Young Justice Beyond
by S. Deitrich
Summary: NightWing#10: When a spaceship craters in Gotham, Nightwing is sent to investigate. What he finds is a humble, white furred creature eager to deliver a message but with the rivalry between the Jokerz and Ts intensifying, delivery is harder than it sounds.
1. Young Justice Beyond 1

Young Justice Beyond #1  
Volume 1. Story 1.  
The Secret Arc

_Notes:_

_-This article will be combined as four ongoing stories, one dealing with the team itself and the other stories dealing with the individual characters on their own adventures._

_-This is an amalgamation of the comics continuity and the DCAU series 'Batman Beyond.'_

* * *

"Todd, stay focused."

"Why must I? It's clear to the team that I'm a non-essential item. Why not send one of his civilian insiders to get this stuff? Doesn't he own the place?"

"All areas of the mission are essential."

"Can we be sure of such? It's at least clear to me that this is the area which is less likely to produce any life threatening incidents."

"Todd, stay focused."

The day was creeping into Gotham city but a light fog deflected much of the sunlight from reaching its earthly target; some faintly shines through glanced upon the glass panes of the outer architecture signalling the death of the lively atmosphere of the night preceding it. Soon, it'll be time for the people of the bat to retreat to their caves.

Nightwing was certain of his situation, a new comer to the night crew in Gotham he had grown accustomed to being assigned the more lighter sides of the city's criminal underworld if such a side existed. Wayne, at the very least, ensured that there was such a place for him. While Batman was spearheading his operation against the sonic super villain Shriek in the more seedier parts of Gotham and Batgirl was out chasing down Shrieks tech runners throughout the South east corner, Nightwing was acting watch on Paxton Powers whom Wayne had assured his troops is working closely with Shriek as his father likewise did since his breakout from Black Gate Penitentiary.

Gliding silently from building to building, Nightwing made a soft landing on the slanted glass panels of the top floor of Power's new base of operation. Looking for a place to hide, he clasped on to one of the one of for cement corner pillars that curved at their top points towards the inclination of the tilted glass pyramid.

"I think he's here, a light in the room on the other side of the floor just went on."

"Camouflage and microphone him, we need to know what he's up to in Gotham."

"Way ahead of you, this dreg is going down."

"Don't be seen!"

The Nightwing suit had undergone quite transformation since its former mantle holder, while much of its uniformity was maintained, this person was more than sufficient enough recognize the need to subtract some of the old and add some of the most essential of high tech items to become more distinct from his predecessor and the hero he answers too. He wore bulky grey boots that when full stretched nearly reached up the entirety of his shins, but lacking restraints to keep them there, the sidings fell down to his ankles making it seem as though the shear grip of the soles kept the boot from sliding off his feet. His gloves followed suit, holding the uniform grey that he wore over the standard Bat grade gloves but rather than hang loosely, they were firmly tied around his fore arms with a rather unsightly large circular bubble apparatuses on the outside of his forearms that seemed to carry something of importance. While the entirety of the leotard was of an offset black, the addition of colour came in the form the logo that fit firmly on his chest, a blue bird, its angular wings flapped out from side to side with a neck that produced two sharp like beaks signalling his position within the line of Nightwing holders. He placed a finger on one of the windows and instantly it shot up with lines of blue energy that coursed throughout his fingers like tiny threads but not without purpose, the ingenuity of this technology gave him the ability to hear through this meagre glass surface.

"Quickly..." a door opened, "we must move everything before Shriek gets in too deep with Batman. Grab the files of the Forward Computer while I delete the temporary files. We need to get away from here before we are attached to this horrible indecency the D.E.O. has gotten us into," the angry Paxton fired off as he efficiently made his way to his computer behind his long oak desk that sat directly in front of the door he was entering through. A slow brutish figure in a dark jacket followed in from behind him attempting to find the appropriate monitor that lined the large office room walls.

"He's brought company...big company. Must be on a hiring binge." Nightwing commented in a hushed tone.

"We need to know what he's deleting, is there any way you can get close enough to tap into the computers and trace the files?"

"Yeah, not without being seen," Nightwing stated, taking a moment to think, "What's the D.E.O.?"

"Accessing...It's a near defunct government operation. They've been studying meta-humans since the mid-nineties...most of whom were quite young...notified by the bat computer as a minimal threat today."

"What would Powers want with a bunch of super powered kids?"

"Irrelevant at this moment. If he's footing the bill for Shriek we need to be able to connect him. We may have no choice now…Intercept Powers and retrieve the files."

"Yeah, didn't get that far in the training manual," Nightwing continued in his bantering tone all while keeping a sharp eye on the happenings through the glass panelled roof of the office room, "don't think I'll have to do much work. They're leaving."

"The files Todd. Follow them."

"I'm going in."

"Where?"

"The office, duh." Nightwing placed the entirety of his fingers now on the glass panel that his finger had sat idly on. The hand quickly came to grasp the panel, sticking well enough for the young hero to pull it up easily on its hinges. Nightwing slipped into the dark office room and made his way to the forward computer on the main office desk previously occupied by Powers, "have to say that the computer education around these parts are quite minimal, I mean how to do you get away with sending all these copies?"

"What have you found."

"Exactly what...I think we're looking for? None of this has anything to do with Shriek." Brashly, Nightwing sifted through the computer files scrolling rapidly through each one, "All of this has something to do with the D.E.O. Man, this dreg is in deep...wait, do we got anything going on in Metro Town? Pretty much all the files on the top are linked to something that's happened there recently..."

"Accessing...There's a Wayne-Powers chemical research and storage facility there. Files indicate a cover up. What they were really working on...oh."

"What happened?"

"Upload those files to me; it appears you'll be working in Metro Town shortly."

"Schway..."

* * *

"I don't think I'll be liking this place."

"What's not to like?"

Vehicles had crammed onto the cold high rise cement highway in the early hours of the morning, they were busily moving quickly to and fro from the nearby city only gently clasping the road surface with their thin hoop like tires. With the advent of auto-control settings installed in every vehicle, the multitude of cars in their various makes and weight classed never came into contact with one another, saddling tight within the span of eight lanes that comprised the highway which itself was a near three stories from solid earth with exits down to it existing every few miles ahead of one another, becoming more and more dense as the approach to the major city was undertaken.

"I lived around here for a long time, used to patrol primarily around this area for some time when I wasn't on another planet, traversing several dimensions or..." his face crunched up in thought, "travelling through time..." he shook it off, "I can't seem to remember where I went only that I did. No matter, can't be expecting to get into all that yet."

With the destination found the slick dark green coated vehicle automatically manoeuvred itself to the farthest lane of the highway closest to the exit that led into the heart of the eastern bound city below. First focusing on the distant sun as it glowed, the boy sitting snugly in the passenger seat ruffled his decently short black hair to prevent himself from becoming less than the vanity he prided himself for. He became sharply saddened when the beauty of the sun as it gently rose to lit the street ahead disappeared when the manoeuvring of the vehicle down the exit ramp led to a new world of complex roads veering under the primary highway, "Still got me waiting for the call?" he questioned the driver through a weak voice.

"Yeah, it's not terribly unusual," the driver reassured him taking his eyes briefly from the road, "the guardians get quite busy sometimes when governing the safety of the universe. I've heard stories of some perspective lanterns waiting up to a month before getting a call up to Oa."

"A whole week with the most powerful weapon in the universe...we'll see about the time travelling Kyle."

"Probably be much longer since you stole the ring, the guardians look so pitifully upon even the smallest of crimes."

"I didn't steal it...!" the boy retorted with a sharp stern attitude, "I just happened to come across it...in the open...stuff," he mumbled off.

The vehicle headed into a large complex of buildings and houses that reached near ten stories high. The architecture represented a late twentieth century design though obviously reconstructed in a day and age when precious stones of a past time have been replaced with composite plastics. They were generally consistent with one another, fashioned with an overlay of dark radish like bricks that squared on every wall of the structure. There were several steps that lead up to the door ways, the old wooden kind with a heavy gold painted handle and a circular or square frame of glass in its centre that sparkled and radiated the particles of light that dare reach its pebble like formation; though this was most uncommon with the triangular roof top hanging overhead of the porch like platform where the doors awaited their opening. The aurora the buildings gave off was more or less a winter feeling, clasping to delicately cold colours of purple, white and blue with all its shades.

"It looks nice Kyle, it really does," a small dazed look swelled up on the boy's face as he saw the families and pet owners walk down the similar hard plastic sidewalks enjoying the day that was beginning to unfold. "But when I look at this, all of this, it seems so fake."

Kyle turned to take a look at his new young ward as the both now were looking at the community they were now inclined to join, "hopefully," Kyle said trying to cover up his remorse, "that feeling will die away with time. You just got to get to know people..."

"Perhaps," he said with his gaze never leaving the passing structures, "I don't want it too."

The nearly hovering vehicle Kyle was piloting came to a complete stop at one such of the familiar structures. It was built up in the same uniform as all the surrounding buildings but was seemingly produced to reach four floors making this strip of housing significantly smaller than all the others for the seemingly important purpose of making particular buildings made for a single owner.

"All our stuff should be inside," Kyle said has he was getting out of the vehicle, "we've got this whole one section to ourselves. Let's say we at least check it out and see if it fits our needs.

"As if we have a choice?" the mumbled groan came as the young ward jumped up from the passenger seat. He took his first couple of steps on the solid ground and with a less than eager pace followed Kyle up the steps to their new home. He was a boy of average height, could not be more than seventeen years of age at the most but unlike those of city fold that resided here, he was quite the muscular specimen, worked hard from years on the streets throughout his youth. With frizzled short black hair, crisp blue eyes, an angular chin line, and somewhat pale skin, he stood to mirror that of his older mentor Kyle Rayner whom had come to take him in upon coming across the ring that powered all members of the Green Lantern corps. He clung tightly to a dark green leather like jacket which had accentuated patched lines around the square regions of his shoulders and button up straps on the ledge of his sleeves that had been left open to reveal his forearms. He came to a sudden stop at the centre of the side walk and glanced upward to gather in the details of the structure he would be calling his new home pretty soon.

A black fence, with vertical square bars spaced half a foot from each other and carried spear like points at the end, surrounded the entirety of the front and squared the corner at the both ends of the sections it enclosed and reached back to connect to the sides of the house. As it was, the fence only existed after a near metre high wall of solid plastic cases, modelled to look like stones, were present making the gate even more the menacing being that their base was at his eye level. With several solid stone steps lined up at the centre of the building, the wall was divided and as such indented inward reaching towards the main structure thereby setting up the enclosure of two separate patches of grass on either side of the steps being carried above the rock barrier. Of the building itself, the brick overlay on the core construction appeared to be in its dim dark purple hue but in a very ruffled state with various degrees of circular cuts and scars being on the surface giving off a very distinct look. At either side of the centre of the building and ahead of the grass fields were large window panes that were gently shaded with a dark tint making view within impossible. Above the panes were a series of smaller windows lined up centre with the larger and at every floor interval. The roof was composed of a loose metal painted brown and was triangular in shape, running horizontal to the building as they saw it but with a particular strong additional triangular arch shape that mixed into the roof at the centre. The stone like wall gently grasped the sidewalk it faced and linked up with the other building structures panning out on either side of where the young man stood. Seeing this, most especially the points of the gate, further imposed the feeling of uniformity and collectively within his mind; if you enter, you will never leave.

He climbed up, one foot after the other, up the several steps that comprised the walkway to the big solid brownish door which carried on either side of its frame two narrow yellow window strips. "What's that?" His voice peaked up. Kyle, having already pushed upon the door to open it, narrowed his eyes to his belt line as he blindly walked into the building with his companion. A pager seemed to be blinking off on Kyle's belt. He took a quick look around in the small lobby area just inside the entrance way and then to the neighbouring apparent family room to their immediate left which contained black plastic boxes of various sizes filled to the brim with Kyle's things. Only one such box belonged to the young boy. The ground everywhere was a dark trimmed woods, narrow panels that laid flat against one another at various lengths. The living room appeared to be the largest room in the house having taken up a significant fraction of the ground floor, a white trim circled around the cumbersome entrance way inside which immediately contrasted with the blue palsy of the surrounding walls. Immediately in front of them was a long straight stairwell, kind of steep, with a white railing while immediately beside it was a small hallway that led to the back where he could make out white linoleum, a kitchen of sorts most likely.

Kyle was quite the muscular man himself however not through the conventional methods that had inflicted the boy, rather years in the Green Lantern Corps had hardened his body and sharpened his mind but perhaps it was a few years too many. The youthful figure that was Kyle when he had first been given the ring had been shattered, making way to a man in his mid-forties; wrinkled, bruised, scarred and black hair slipping away to a grey shade at the sides, nothing that could not be fixed with the latest hair chemicals of the time. It had been sometime since he had left the formal Lantern uniform, but now he had given into the casual wear of the time accepting straight pants and a simple collar shirt and silk laced jacket that hung loosely on his shoulders, opened at the chest, and hanging lowly at his sides. The Lantern whom stood as Earth's hero before him once told him that the only way out of the life of a Lantern is to die. And while he more than exceptionally should his words to be true, Kyle was determined to believe he could retire with his life intact and perhaps this boy could offer him an opportunity. He cuffed his hand around the square block on his belt and looked down at it.

"It's a call from the League," Kyle announced. He quickly took a look around attempting to locate all of his belongs he had shipped over the past few days ago, "Why don't you go check out your room, I'm a have to take this."

"Schway!" the boy stated with an unparallelled sarcastic voice as he pattered his way up the stairs immediately in front of entrance way. Thoughts of living in a full room crowded his immediate thoughts, but traces of the contents of Kyle's call became more prominent with every step he made upwards. "Coincidence or something else...all the rooms are painted green." He took a few steps into the room he assumed was his own. It was on the third floor which he, upon taking a good educated look, determined was as best suited for his living since there was plenty of living space and exit ways from which he could make his nightly escapes. A quick turn to peak upstairs to the fourth story revealed a single room which he assumed Kyle would possess since he would need to be in and out of the house through the roof more than he ever would. "Man, this place is wack." He returned to his new found room to take a better look around. He saw that all furnishings had already been placed out in an efficient matter, bed, desk, television set, "Kyle," He yelled back in a unusual tone, "This place is laid out like a bad television sitcom, how long you say you were working on this place?"

"Deryck," Kyle shyly responded, " I uh...I have to get going. I got some business I need to take care of."

"Great! can I come with?" Deryck shouted back his query.

"No, not this time, it's a little out of bounds for you at the moment," Kyle yelled back reaching to the stairwell, "just sit tight for a bit will ya? No ring outings till I get back, alright?"

A small dissatisfied frown reached Deryck's face acknowledging that Kyle may be gone longer than he is currently letting off, "Sure," he mumbled back.

"Ok." Kyle yelled back, "you can reach me through the communicator. It's on the kitchen counter...uh..." he paused in his concluding words, "goodbye for now."

"As if that'll ever get through," he muttered in response. Deryck had felt like this had happen to him all before, a sharp emotional depression grew his brain as he thought heavily upon Kyle, he looked around his new room. The bed, with its green blanket top, sat in the far left corner upon entering, the desk with its sharp steel like design was designated to the right side wall, its farthest ledge just short of the back wall, and the flat screen television was practically connected to the wall to the immediate left of the entrance thereby standing directly in front of the bed, sitting upon a simple silver shinning stand of sorts. He reached for the swivel chair from under the desk and dragged it along the wooden panel floors, "I can't just be doing nothing..."

Deryck came to a stop at the front of his green coated bed and leaned forward towards the television screen, reaching out a finger to tap the central blue button that sank at the bottom centre of the frame. He rapidly began flicking through the channels quickly coming to a pause of a national News station. Quick images flew by of what Deryck quickly ascertained to be the Justice League quickly jumping into battle with an alien intelligence that he had difficulty describing to himself "So I guess that's where Kyle is...and is that Batman? Hmm never seen him before, heh," he laughed the notion off, "probably a new addition."

"Although the Justice League is currently occupied, our sources however are currently being devoted to an incident in Metro-Town which has succumbed to what authorities are calling an accidental chemical fire."

"Sounds promising..." Deryck began to smile slowly as the newsman continued the story till its finale in one of the most serious tones he could possibly mumble.

"The apparent explosion has possibly trapped a hundred or more civilians in their homes for the time being or has no doubt forced eviction until the excess pollution can be safely contained. Authorities state that the possibility of a quick removal is unlikely and that with current resources available it may take up to a week to make the town hospitable again."

"People need help," he shook a fist, "and with Kyle and league busy with something of a more persistent matter, it only seems right that other expendable...expendable?...heroes like myself attempt to reconcile the situation regardless of the current laws imposed upon me...us?" a look of thought crept upon his face as he stood up and planted his right fist into his open left palm, "Who am I talking to?" he questioned as he threw away his hands, "I can justify breaking orders later, people need my help! Ring, lets suit up!"

The green ring with its lantern decal surface quickly sparked up with its green energy that expand around his arm forming bulky green gloves that left his fingers exposed and extended down his forearm ending off in unique shaped spikes that protruded off the side of his elbows. The green form quickly made its way down his torso leaving its mark; green shoulder pads, though only as such as imbedded in the costume itself, with centre metre thick hexagonal piece on the outside of his shoulders. Following in line with the hexagonal shape, upon his chest was a large green outline of the six sided shape awaiting something to fill it within. The ring continued its transformation with strong green boots that reached to just under his knee before extending upward into an angular four piece pad that capped the knee, they were surprisingly bulky but gave off the impression of being battle ready and regarded for its impeccable strength simply based off appearance. "Yeah this will do," he stated with some remote glee as the green mask lit up around his eyes, four triangular pieces jutting up and down on either side of his face, two pieces pulling down his cheeks and the other two up to his temples "I now carry on a legacy that everyone can trust!" he yelled excitingly as he quickly located the window to the ride of the desk. He quickly dashed towards it, working his hands onto the metal hinge piece on the side, pressing upon it till he could successfully slide the window across into the centre. He slowly began to rise up into the air, working his way towards the outside, "But can I even trust myself when I continue to decline in the world of insanity by talking to myself," speeding up, he had pushed upward to the sky diving towards the air as all heroes with flight capabilities did, "...the world must know!"

* * *

"Alright, what's the problem?"

"I'm bored...no room to stretch my legs...did all the others have this problem or am I a unique oddity? How did you pacify this urge?" the blonde haired speedster made pace marks in the floor, every indent finding the sole of his shoes a near thousand times. He was a tall specimen with a very loose muscular structure that made him kind of gangly, but this was quickly made up by his fleeting brown eyes and sharp smile laced overtop of a nearly squared off Jaw. He was young and bright but nonetheless impatient, a traveller that was not used to staying around for such a long extended period of time.

The young speedster was stretching his legs on a flat plateau of light wooden flavour plaques that smoothed into one another with a waxy coating, solid as best it could be. To his eastward direction, to his side, a step down from the plateau occurred giving way to a setup of plush green couches, sitting in a square formation around a tall spiralling rock made fire place save that the opening for the fire had been replaced with a flat television screen. The couch to his side was a long three person couch, its back side running along the single step down, whereas on either side were two single person couches, though by their sheer puffiness, it could be argued that more than just the one could easily squeeze in. Sitting on the farthest edge, the northern most side, of the three person couch was a particular individual who the young speedster had come to be thankful for being a part of this family of speedsters, though this may be for the single fact that separated him….

"Didn't exercise my right to the speed force for that long... you know it's hard to hear the TV with that rattling back and forth," he stated gently scratching away at his short black hair and ironing out his muscular stomach with both his paw like hands. He was a man of incredible finesse, and while never attempting to reach the speed of his friendly companion, he more than definitely made up for it with his over developed strength; though all such attributes we're deemed unsuitable in light of the man's incredible laziness always being in the victor's circle.

"Yeah, sorry sir."

His hand waved backwards towards the running boy behind him in a meaningful gesture, "no, don't call me sir, this isn't Petrol, Petrius or whatever that dwarf planet is that you are so terribly fond of," the man said with his gaze never turning away from to the television screen but taking the relative mundane action of waving as an opportunity to unfurl his arms on the top bar of the couch plush green couch, "Why not take a seat and let your mind waver uncontrollably into the world of..." he shook his head in a dissatisfied way, "whatever I'm watching?"

"It's Petrus."

"Isn't that the drama in space? This is some sort of reality TV show marathon about a bunch of shop girls."

"No, that's the planet I lived on," the blond haired boy glided around the end of the primary couch the man sat on and took a seat on the single cushioned matching couch adjacent to it, "and it's a micro-planet."

"I've already lost interest."

"You care so very much Jai," the boy sneered as he pointed out his hand at him in evident sarcasm.

"No, really I don't," he said carefree, never leaving the TV screen's phenomenal glow, "Remember, it's my sister who picked you up, I just feel compelled to help whenever I can."

"By the way, this is the last season."

"For what?"

"This show," he said re-pointing his finger at the television screen, "this is a particular favourite of cultural theorists in my home century; though you must explain to me, what's this fixation you all appear to have on the daily lives random inarticulate women, it's so infuriating..."

"Yeah, I've been told that before."

"Kind of makes all the people within your time seem so less evolved then you actually believe."

"Creatures of habit?" he shook his head once more in dissatisfaction, uncertain of the purpose in those words, "I didn't pay much attention in the education departments."

"Clearly."

Following a moment of watching, Jai suddenly grew tiresome of the television glow and took a look at his companion who sat with his head laid back against the headrest and hands stretched out on the holders as ready to fall asleep, "You know, we had this guy living here once from the twenty-ninth or thirtieth century...think he was your cousin or something strange...you guys ever meet in your time."

"twenty-eighth." He responded pulling his head to look at Jai.

"Nope, still sure it was the thirtieth." he said as he fell back in his chair to look back at the television.

"No, I'm from the 28th...and no, I've never met Bart."

"Eh what's this...?" Jai leaned in forward brings his hands down from the couch top to clasp together on top of his legs.

"What...?" Jace followed suit, curbing his head to take a look at the incoming information.

The occupants of the cumbersome living space placed their entirety of senses onto the screen absorbing every absolute detail that could be found in its glow. "The Justice League battling up in space?" Jace commented, "Looks like sis won't be home for a while."

"Ah come on." Jace quickly rattled around the room at a lightning speed and then sat down in his original position. "I've been sitting around all day."

"I know it's tough, but you're going to have to enjoy life like the normal people."

"I'm not a normal person Jai," Jace stood up at a surprisingly normal speed and decided to take a normal walk around the room instead, "I came here to learn. I've spent my life waiting for this and I haven't even been allowed to leave the house without her; why should I put up with this?"

Jai turned around from his position on the couch and looked up at Jace pacing once again behind him, "Jace, you are particularly special, but these things you want come in time, something none of the flashes seem to have learnt, not even the great one; they just have no patience. Why don't you master that and-"

"Hey what's that," an excited tone reached the end of Jace's lips as he jumped back to the upper plateau and planted his hands over top of the three person couch sharply leaning forward to learn of even further information on current events, "Something's happening in Metro Town."

"Yeah, that's great...people love the tragedy," Jai stated with disappointment as he reached for the television controller.

"It's only a tragedy if we allow it. With the justice league busy, it's a necessity that I do my part in their absence," Jace stated as he shook his hand at the television over the couch top.

"No, I pretty sure that some of them 'human beings' have gotten things under control."

"I'm a suit up and head over to a news agency and get some more information."

"Perhaps its best that you wait like Iris told you."

"Jai." Jace looked at him with wide eyes exposing his heavy heart, "People are in trouble."

"Yeah," Jai said as he stood up to look at the blonde brazen boy as he stood ready to run the latest marathon of heroics, "but what about your time paradox chart where all your actions and stuff, I didn't understand half of it, leads to your existence being withdrawn? And do you even really care?"

"The future of earth is never as it seems!" Jace brought up his right fist and looked deep at the mystical ring that sat around his finger, "It's time to fly," suddenly a scarlet and black suit catapulted from the inside of the golden ring flexing out into the full garment as Jace speedily jumped into it with ease. His feet became encased in hard shield boots fashionably furnished in a dark red that matched the triangular middle chest region that extended beyond his shoulders and down the outer region of his arms to his gloves. His gloves maintained the same universal flash colour but they meagrely reached beyond his wrists and were held tightly down by two thick black straps. As an offset black completed the remnants of his suit, that being leggings and the outer sides of his torso, the flash logo flexed and became fully realized on Jace's chest, the yellow rimmed circle with the black inside and finished off with the red lightning bolt.

"Never understood this affiliation with black,"

"Well you know what they say about white in this time," the speedster nodded, "it's the current evil."

To top off his uniform was the full scarlet cowl with goggle pieces that fit firmly around the outer bone structure of his eyes, "what I don't understand is all the other younger flashes letting their hair roam free; You've really fixed that stereo type. How is it possible that no one in a small town would notice that there is someone with the same flamboyant hair style as a local superhero?"

"Talk to Iris about it, I've always liked the full cowl; looks more mature." Jace stated as he shook his body a bit to get some flexibility, "I'll be back in a flash."

* * *

"Wow-chk" Nightwing stated while not only managing the sudden coughs that have over taken him but also trying to remain steady since the coughs resulting in the distorting movements in his feet, of crucial importance since the his boot's rocket boosters were indiscriminate when it came to being powered at full strength when it certainly wasn't wanted, "the air is nasty here and I haven't even reached the main hub of the city," a moment of static raised through, "Proxy? you hearing me?"

"Communications seem to be breaking down; I'm reading some heavy interference...?"

"I'm a try to get to some higher ground," Nightwing diverted his foot booster so he stood upright propelling himself vertically through and above the layered yellow smog which only seemed to dissipate in minuscule amounts as the ascent continued, "These buildings are smaller than I expected..." he spat out as he climbed up closely along a flat window side of a nearby building.

"You're coming in much better now."

"That's great, but I'm still not seeing anything...oh wait a second..." a clearing began to open up ahead. Within seconds he bolstered himself through the opening and almost immediately dropped his body to a horizontal stance so he flew just above the heavier smog below him. Arms spread out ahead, he propelled himself over the top of the building that he had just moments ago been flying upwards against, "Think I found an office building… can see it just barely above the thickness of the smog...must be the tallest structure in the city." Nightwing flew up a few feet more as he approached the designated structure which he set to noting as being rectangular in shape and being at least reaching twelve stories to be able to get its rooftop above. He proceeded to let his boosters fall through, retracting the blue wing like apparatuses under his arms simultaneously thereby allowing himself some support to glide down to the top structure, "agh, you'd figure there would be more efficient methods to build roofs than this slippery glass..." he fell down to his knees when his feet gave out on the slippery surface that comprised the roof, "I'm going to take a look down below."

Nightwing slowly rose to his feet and took a few steps forwards. He retracted his wings while he angrily began kicking his boots to the ground attempting to get a grip on the flat glassy surface. At the steep ledge of the building he took to one knee and attempted to take a good look at the ground below, "I'm not seeing anything, this gas is tragically heavy and who knows what dregs are lying dead out there."

"Perhaps I could be of assistance...whoa..." after the first few steps, Interval began to slip and slide on his feet before finally getting his grip on the surface by dropping on all fours just short of Nightwing's arch on the straight ledge, "what's with this century's people and their inefficient design plans?" Interval stuttered out as he attempted a careful walk to get to the ledge.

Nightwing took a quick glance back at his fellow young hero before returning to his complete fixation on the golden smog that covered the ground below, "Yeah, hello and everything," Nightwing replied sarcastically, his attention being returned entirely to the world covered below.

"I assume you're having some vision based issues?"

"Yeah, the infrared vision in my cowl is getting all distorted," Nightwing lifted himself up with his arms and shifted his legs to sit over the edge plopping down comfortably, "I'm not sure I can help anyone below, this is way outside of my moral comfort zone..." he said attempting to appear as one who people dying and the heroes unable to do anything."

"If it alleviates you at all," Interval said taking a knee to become on par with Nightwing, "I didn't see anyone coming in," he stared into the distance, "it's possible everyone's been evacuated," he said coldly.

Nightwing shifted his head upward to look at Interval, "How are you getting through this smog?"

"I'm just speeding up my arms to make some air currents," he stated as he pushed his arms forward ahead of Nightwing's field of vision, "at a high speed I can create a small wind vortex a few metres in front of me," the speedster sighed, "works better in enclosed spaces, out here though heavy smog just flows back in a matter of seconds...nearly ran into a park vehicle."

"Man, I wish I could have been there to take a picture..." Nightwing responded quietly in sarcastic edge.

"Hey," Interval looked across at Nightwing with puzzlement upon his lips, "can you hear that?"

"Is something big coming?" he responded looking up over his shoulder, passing the side where Interval was standing next to him.

Interval stood up took a short slippery walk to the ledge of the adjacent side to look at the side of the building zeroing in on an incoming storm that seemed to be the source of rumbling below, "looks like our help has arrived!" Interval smirked.

Nightwing took to a stand and moved in next to Interval, both of them watching the sky above as a loose green ball of energy hover in the air but was quickly taking in the distance between them. As it approached, it became plainly obvious that this was a humanoid figure of sorts with an applicable thick coat of green energy that wove around every facet of his body. He was floating more downward now with his right hand fully extended in front, protruding from it a thick beam of green that shot down to the covered street below. "Iota!," Interval shouted out to get over the loud grating noise that had taken its home within his ear.

"Eh what?" Iota responded turning his head to look at the top of the exposed office building while still maintaining his descent. He continued to push forward and was soon on par with the two other young heroes on the top of the building. They looked at him with their puzzlement pulling a tap along the young lanterns spine which jittered his legs. Just as his boots were beyond the trim of the building, he came to a pause and turned to face the other young heroes whom stood on top of there. He attempted a smile but it was quickly short lived when he saw the presence of the darkened Nightwing, his shoulders hunched.

"What are you making?" Interval continued to shout over the loud noise that continued to rumble from the ground upwards.

"A Fan!"

Nightwing stepped towards the edge of the building and peered his head over top when he came to notice a flurry of the darkened brown dust flutter away in large circular quantities bursting through the window sides and crossing through the dividing street lines. Interval followed suit, leaning as he did on his strong right leg, looking down at the dispersing smog which steadily grew further and further in development as Iota came closer. Their eyes quickly got on to particularly large item that scrapped along the street top, large shinning green propeller blades of sorts that circles at an intense speed that only Interval could keep his eyes on successfully for any period of time; five blades near the size of a building but just small enough to hold to its sway on the main street.

"What the...no, I don't think so," Iota seemed to be mumbling to himself. The connection beam from his arm to the blades of the fan suddenly severed as he reverted his descent, hovering now upwards above the rooftop and heading inward towards its centre. He took to landing on the glass like surface of the building. Nightwing and Interval watched with interest as the fan quickly began to dissipate into simple contour lines, a ghost of its former majestic fullness, "my rings mighty temperamental today, doesn't think I'm accomplishing anything with the fan...what's with this roof? It's so smooth..." he smiled in delight, "why don't they make all buildings with this glassy stuff?" He slid around on the surface with a strange happiness before deciding to produce sharp prongs on the soles of his boots, digging them deep into the roof surface for grip.

"Never mind that!" Interval said looking down at the relatively cleaned up street thanks to Iota's efforts. Below, the main road was near vacant; abandoned vehicles, the empty lobbies of the sidewalks immediately in front of the jammed up buildings which in themselves appeared more than empty with the absence of any clear light or power within, regardless, it still held up quite a strong sand storm of sorts that twisted and blended into the contour patterns of the wind. Something however, down below on this main street, didn't quite sit well with the logical thinking speedster whom clumped his hands into fists and bit down his lips.

"No, I want to know," Nightwing questioned interrupting Interval's discovery, "Why do you think this kind of roofing is efficient?"

"Efficient?" Iota questioned as he turned to face the expanse of his cleansing, "from where I was standing the glint of the sun really lit up the place; can't be that bad a place to work in side, the lighting must be just right and it's all natural...that's efficient right?"

"Alright, the roof is fine," Interval said standing up, "but quickly come and take a look at this before the smog sneaks its way back into the middle of the city."

"Great..." Nightwing sighed as he stretched his legs out before pulling them side to side, placing his hands on his knee cap allowing for him lean in to get a good look at the a distant roadway that some smog had exited from during the Iota's cleansing, "a bunch of dregs in white hazmat suits...remember when these guys were the stuff of legend and myth?" He glanced up to Interval.

"It appears they're looking for something," Iota said with a smile. The teen lantern approached the ledge, standing off to Nightwing's side whom leaned down centre of the two other teen heroes. He placed his hands on his waists and continue with the smirk as he examined the hazmat clad figures below, "perhaps a good time to show them what I can do."

"You?" Nightwing stated loudly while turning to glare at Iota.

"Hold up, lets first figure out what-" Interval began to say trailing off into silence as both Iota and Nightwing made the heavenly drop to the ground in hopes of being the first to get their hands filled with acts of heroism. "Perhaps we can discuss the ethics and morals of teamwork when we become better aware of our collective strengths and weaknesses and...I'm coming..." Interval took a jump off the glass surface and connected to the side of the building running at full strength to catch up with the heroes who had gently descended to the earth in their most familiar style. Upon getting close to his accomplices, he found that Nightwing and Iota had already introduced themselves, facing a tall man in a giant white full body hazmat suit with the only abstraction being a square transparent panel on a rather robust box of a cowl which allowed for the pale straight edged face of the human flesh within to become visible, "hey guys, what's with you young people in this generation?"

"What appears to be the issue? Can I help? Ignore these guys these amateurs! I once worked with Batman," Nightwing began spitting out gaining the attention the white hazmat suited gentlemen.

"No, no, I'm the real hero here, part of an inter-galactic order of policemen." Iota responded strongly with enough enthusiasm to back up his rather dry lie statement, "if there is someone who you could call upon for help, it would most definitely be me."

Interval shook his head in disgust. The man in the hazmat suit seemed unamused, never seemingly moving towards any expression, his vision obscured by addition of black tinted goggles tied firmly to face. "Alright hold up guys," Interval jumped in with a calm and matured voice, "I'm Interval, these two are my fellow heroes Nightwing and Iota."

"Me."

"That's me."

"Is there any way that we can be of assistance?" Interval continued. The hazmat wearing gentlemen stood motionless for a few moments seemingly staring down the boys who began to slowly wobble at the knees simply from the eeriness of the situation. Taking a charge in amongst them, Interval continued, "may I ask whom we are addressing?"

The motionless stare continued, though no special attention was first placed upon the face of the hazmat man, the boys began to realize the absolute purity of the man's complexion, white and without wrinkles, no visible discriminatory marks of any kind. Suddenly and without warning, the man turned around to face a large parked van behind him, his mouth opened ready to blurt out the intrusive dialogue in a booming base, "We have company!"

"Company? Where?" Nightwing shouted as he shifted himself into a position prepared to go into battle.

"I think he means us man, stand down." Iota assured Nightwing over his shoulder. Within a minute the boys found themselves surround by a near dozen other men in hazmat suits all speckled with the same black tinted goggles and near perfect pale complexions.

"Dude, I think these things are ghosts!" Nightwing stated collapsing to his knees and clasping his hands to this mouth.

"Ghosts don't exist!" Iota was quick to respond, "stand up and make yourself presentable, we ain't going down without a proper fight."

"How do you know?" Nightwing said regaining his composure and pushed himself up against Iota attempting to appear menacing. The small three man crew of teen heroes formed a loose triangular shape at the centre of the street, all aiming down towards a handful of hazmat wearing creeps whom were approaching them at a sluggish pace.

"No, the question is how you can believe in all that nonsense!" Iota retorted.

"Enough! We can argue this later." Interval said spreading his arms to his sides as if to say to his fellow heroes to calm down. One of the hazmat suit wearing person, whom was more reasonably smaller and stockier passed by the first hazmat wearing ghost and made his appearance up front and faced the boys with a smile. While he too had the black tinted goggles firmly in the proper position, his face was significantly more so aged and less perfect than all the similar looking individuals surrounding them. For Interval, he seemed much more human. "To whom am I addressing?"

"I am professor Isaiah Esau of the Department of Extra-Normal Operations..." he stated with a hint of an old English accent, "perhaps better known within your community as simply the D.E.O."

"Yeah, I knew these guys looked familiar." Nightwing stated now crossing his arms and sporting a mild smirk. He relinquished his fighter stance, turning instead to one of relaxation as he turned back to face the arrival of the professor along with Iota.

"Yeah, could have fooled us," Iota said slapping Nightwing's arm causing him to jump a little out of fright, a sneer coming across his face.

"As much as it pains me to say this to you all in particular," the older hazmat gentlemen began, "but I believe the incident that has occurred here is partly our responsibility"

"How so?" Nightwing questioned taking the front of the questioning, "are you saying that this was no simple chemical plant malfunction?"

"Not exactly," Esau responded in a seldom used monotone, "it's a bit of a mess that we hoped we could keep quiet, but now that your assistance could be used to the benefit of both our parties, then I suppose I ask for your services," he finished by crossing his arms signifying to the boys his absolute authority in the situation, "and let me just how thrilled we would be with some of this world's finest youth's working this case."

"I'm not sure," Nightwing hesitated, "from what I understand the D.E.O has always been somewhat hostile to the hero community…you guys like want something else than just some helping hands in the clean up?"

"It's some sort of a PR grab." Iota interrupted, "by working closely with the young heroes you guys think you might be able to invoke some good graces with the big ones."

The man then began to smile and brought his hands up to his chest to grab one another at the centre, "perhaps then it is not as easy to pass our intentions past even the most 'simple' of young people."

"I'm sorry," Nightwing stated while raising his hand ready to ask a question, "but did anyone else see him stare at me?"

"I confide in you boys now with respect to the responsibility you must then undertake," the man stated solemnly.

"You've put lives in danger," Interval retorted with an outright tinge of anger.

"I assure you that all people in the area have been properly evacuated and know nothing of the true current situation."

"Just be straight," Iota bumped in, "what's the problem."

"The chemical storage facility that the media has declared as the source of the problem is essentially just a front for one of our more seedier operations," Esau took a moment to swallow then continued, "while we do indeed work with chemicals as the public believes it as such but there are also other things to which we have been doing so perfectly that we have elude the attention of the public eye."

"And these are..." Nightwing started tailing off with a questioning glare.

"Meta-experimentation," Esau was quick to growl staring down all the boys, "It's not exactly a moral accepted practice, but we believe that such experiments have provided millions in medical research. Our only intent was to ensure human survival."

"In the event that people like us choose that you're no longer relevant..." Interval stated.

"Always comes back to money...survival's just the decoy," Iota shrugged looking anywhere but the D.E.O agents around him.

"You guys don't seem very human to me; experimentation on anything living just seems... inhuman." Nightwing stated attempting to find his roots of authority over the D.E.O figures.

"Regardless of your opinion, we are in a situation that needs the utmost attention," Esau continue, "One of the entities in our possessions, as we can assume it to have limited logical thought, has managed to escape the facility and seemingly in the process generated this smog that currently has enveloped Metro-Town" he gestured his hands upwards to the sky with open palms, "the smog itself appears not to be immediately hazardous, we're still analyzing its compounds based off of the stock in the facility...but don't stand in it too long."

"I imagine you're having difficulty finding the creature?" Interval questioned now noticing the smog creeping back down the streets and into the city section Iota was clearing out.

"Indeed, it's been eluding us since the moment we arrived. We're attempting to make our way to the main facility but we're still experiencing some difficulties in moving our equipment." With a flick of his raised hand, Esau had ordered the D.E.O troops to disperse and leave to continue their hunt for the creature, "I must warn you of this creature, it is highly volatile, quite capable of changing its composition to more hazardous substances than just this smog...we have some great concern for the lives of our agents."

"Where can we find it?" Nightwing pleaded for the man's attention on him.

"Hmm," Esau started, "You accept then. It would probably be best to try the main facility first, the emanating smog seems to be deflecting off of the building and into the atmosphere and it's likely that the creature is responsible for this strange affect. In the meantime, my men and I will continue the analyzing of this smog," he raised a single hand just in front of his face and waved it slowly back and forth in front of his plain of vision, "It would appear that its coming back, I suggest you make your move while you can before the smog becomes so thick that your abilities would no longer be effective." As the boys turned to make their move towards the facility down the road they were blocked by a hazmat D.E.O agent who used both his hands to carry a decent sized glass cylinder like device that looked like a large vitamin capsule. "You'll probably need this to capture it…it should contain the creature. We have no intent to harm it if that is such a possible, if not, I'm certain that heroes such as yourselves can act at your own discretion. Be careful," he coldly continued.

Iota took hold of the cylinder with both his hands and took a look at his two new companions, "Alright!" Nightwing exclaimed stepping forward and mashing his left fist into the open palm of his right hand which he proceeded to squeeze gently, "let's make our move out!"

* * *

"What do you think this stuff is?" Nightwing began while walking with his two companions down the city where its monolithic structures, crevices and general population had become unknown in the thick atmosphere of golden shinning smog, "I bet you it's that ectoplasm stuff," he raised a hand to his chin and rubbed it lightly.

"Ok!" Iota face palmed his left hand to his head then threw it back down in disgust, "There are no such things as ghosts and by association there is no ectoplasm."

"Seriously man!" Nightwing turned to look at him, waving his right index finger with some strong anger behind it, "how do you know?" he abruptly dropped his hand and hunched up his shoulders to neck height, heavily planting step after step against the tar black ground of the road in the direction they were headed anyway. He threw both his hands into the air when had gained some significant distance ahead of his companions, "bet they've captured a ghost and they've been experimenting on the undead for years!" his trudging quickly turned into an outright run; however it was short lived as a result of some strange thoughts and emotions crowding his head causing him to drop to his knees in a defiant stop.

"Both your arguments exert great flaws," Interval stated focusing intently on the road beyond Nightwing's slumping body, taking quick glances at the flat glassy buildings, "there are more important things going on that could use our attention."

After a few steps down the road towards the main chemical facility Interval came to a stop. "What's wrong?" Nightwing asked when the Interval, along with Iota, came to a stop beside him. He quickly rose up from his position and analyzed the coughing of the speedster.

"It's coming in faster now, any chance you can blow us another path...cukk...I'm starting to have some breathing problems and I don't think running at high speeds will make it any better, just too dangerous..." Interval stuttered to get out as he rose a hand to his mouth.

"Hey, no problem." Nightwing reached into a slot in his utility belt and pulled from it a transparent triangular mouth piece that extended upwards to the nose and was weighted down at the chin by a small cylinder device. "put this on."

"What is it," interval asked as he gently placed the device on his mouth feeling it suction onto his nose and chin almost instantly

"It's some sort of breathing device," Nightwing proceeded to pull another from his belt and put it over his own mouth and waited for it start suctioning on to his face, "Its suppose to convert all the poison into something breathable...seems to be working yes?"

"Indeed," Interval sternly responded, dropping his hand from the piece once he felt that it had tightly been sucked onto his otherwise exposed mouth and nostrils.

"That's all fail." Iota said with his pride in full swing, "my ring keeps me safe from harm," he said raising his ring hand and allowing the green lightning to sparkle in what minimal light the upper sky provided through the overwhelming clouds.

"Great good for you. How's it feeling today? Jealous? Does it miss its friends on the planet of the rings?" Nightwing said with malice as he headed off in the direction the facility was purported to be in, "What else could be down this way?"

"Should be the town centre and then on the other side of that the main facility," Interval began to state, "The visibility is falling apart," Interval raised his hand and began twirling it at a hyper accelerated speed. Seeing the impending doom of twisting whirl winds, Nightwing dove out of the way and watched from his crumpled state at the resulting pushing of the smog but only to a limited affect, "Iota any way you could extend this distance of the wind? My speed just isn't packing the punch."

"Pack-a-Punch!" Nightwing exclaimed with accentuated syllables as he got behind Interval to take a look ahead watching the wake of the smog move away to making a clear path to what appeared to be a circular disk with a smaller bowl shaped object raised a foot above it in the centre, "Hmm, that looks like a fountain..."

"Yeah, I'm working on it," Iota took a long stare at his ring, "come on, don't let me down," he seemingly whispered to his ring hoping that its emotional core would see the urgency of the situation and work to fullest.

Several smaller versions of the large fan appeared in a row across the road and along the line that was formed by the teen heroes standing side by side. Nightwing and Interval both became excited as the smog started rapidly moving away to the sides resulting in the clarity of grounded fountain like object ahead. Six fans worked at full strength allowing Interval to relax himself somewhat, relieved that he could still back up his boasting. With the smog having dissipated away from the fountain, he could not help but voice his pleasure with a humbled words that failed to be recognizable through his still strong arrogant tone, "that should hold it back for a bit, what we seeing?"

"The fountain...its dry," Nightwing stated as he ran up to its stone circular edge and leaned to look inside, "Money!" he excitedly shouted as he pressed his hands against the inner rung of the fountain, scratching away at the long obsolete metal made coins.

Interval and Iota began to move up to take a good look also, "Its glass like," Iota said looking over his shoulder at Interval who was also looking into the fountain with a shocked expression. Nightwing pulled away from the fountain with a moan upon realizing that the coins, seemingly encased in the glassy substance, would be impossible to get to short of blowing up the fountain.

"That's just a little strange," Interval began, "do any of you know what the weather was like around here yesterday?"

"Yeah, hold on," Nightwing stated turning away from the fountain and taking a few paces away from the group for some privacy, "Proxy, can you hook me up with the weather in this area for the past little while?"

"Who do you think he's talking to?" Iota questioned Interval.

"The Bat-gods?" Interval said. His gaze began to shift away from his companions and began to focus upon the surface that had formed in the inner fountain.

"What are you thinking val?" Iota stated taking a seat on the edge of the fountain.

"Well, if Nightwing can confirm the weather, my theory may actually just come to light," Interval placed up his right foot on the ledge and leaned in to take a more complex look at the thick glassy substance.

"Yeah, I got something" Nightwing said as he returned to the group, "It was raining heavily for the last three days."

"Well then it all makes sense!" Interval exclaimed, pulling his foot down from the ledge and waving his hands out to his sides.

"Ok, I hate it when people do that...it forces me to think." Nightwing stated as he took a seat on the edge of the fountain with Iota.

"Its water...look at the buildings, the roofs, this fountain..."

"I know I usually understand you, but now you're actually beginning to lose me," Iota said attempting to get into the conversation.

"It's water! The glass is water." Interval said dryly.

"How exactly does this help us?" Nightwing asked knowing that with even hours of thought, no logic would be likely to extrude from his conscience.

"It's the reason why all the water has dried up from the fountain and why all the buildings and surfaces are all slippery and glass like, the composition of the smog is changing the composition of the water so we end up with this hard shiny layer of glass."

"Still not helping me see everything..."

"Well, we could probably be able to eliminate all this smog with a good rainstorm."

"Probably won't take to long for the D.E.O guys to figure this out," Iota said reassuringly.

"Won't that just make a giant sheet of glass in the air or like create a massive hail storm?" Nightwing said assuming his now standard questioning tone.

"Yes..." Interval stated looking for a moment to think, "Not sure we could prevent that, in any case, I don't see there being much evaporation getting past these dark clouds. I mean, why do people always expect that we'll have solved every single problem by the end of every story?"

"OK great, we found a way to save the city and destroy it at the same time, what exactly can we learn from this?" Nightwing inquisitively asked bringing his left hand to his chin as if to extrude that he actually cared about the answer.

"Well," Interval said while distancing himself from the group looking down at his large boots, "If the creature we're after is really the source of this smog, or at least shares some fundamental composition with it, then we may be able to use some water to eliminate it."

"You don't seem too thrilled about it," Iota said letting the cylinder free fall in one hand holding off to the side.

"Well, we don't know what we're dealing with, for all we know water could kill it, but it might be all we've got going for us...besides I don't see where we'll be getting water in this dried up hole of a place."

"I'm sure our collective minds will think of something," Iota chimed in with his support.

"As water is the source of life and as such it should be the source of un-life!" Nightwing stated seemingly being ignorant of the conversation that had just taken place.

"What?" Interval said switching to the inquisitive tone normally suited to Nightwing.

"How fortunate that someone like me exists and that I know people like you that can do all this weird science thinking for me so that I can better focus on bringing the dregs of the world too justice!"

"Thanks Nightwing, I'm a make a bumper sticker of that statement as soon as we're done here!" Iota sarcastically responded.

"Cassie always said my words would be remembered," Nightwing said, ignorant of the sarcasm protruding from Iota's mouth.

"The smog is seeping in again," Interval intruded, "let's get to facility, the agency listing showed it beyond the town hall. Let's see what we can dig up." Interval immediately began to start walking in the direction of where the town hall was, the smog already creating a light layer that made the view of the once majestic white pillars at the front of the classical building appear as though it were decaying with the advent of yellow plaque.

* * *

"Wow, this place is just shocking!" Nightwing shouted upon reaching the wide concrete steps of the chemical storage facility.

"I don't know," Iota chimed in, "looks like all pretty much like all the other buildings with all this glassy texture."

"No, no, it's half past three," Nightwing started up, he nodded his head and caught under the glares of his two fellow teen heroes which he shrugged off to his back side, "that means we've been walking for less than five minutes..." he turned abruptly and stared at Interval with wide eyes, "you know since I started reading all this text..."

"This breathing apparatus is getting too tight; I can feel my nose dying." Interval stated with some detachment, "let's quickly figure out what we're dealing with so I can breathe some fresh air." Interval pointed towards the entrance, "There, I can see the door looks like the outer lobby walls are giving it some clear coverage. Iota can you clear away all this excess stuff so we can move in?"

"I'm on it," and just like that the green three prong fans made their reappearances ahead of them and quickly acted to create a pathway up the wide angled facility stairs. Despite the hindrance of the heavy smog above, the boys were able to make out the bleak grey colour of the building that stood as a single story box with its sides seemingly running off infinitely into the distance on account of the ends being stifled from view by the intense smog which of itself blocked off all other structures around them which made the appearance, the clarity, of this particular building up ahead. With the dropping of Iota's fans, the three found themselves focussing upon the bustling smoke streams that seemed to bounce along an invisible wall that held up around this front piece of the building. The front of the building was quite a straight edge; however, there was quite the indentation where the boys were headed, where it was clear under the meagre rooftop. Their line of vision led them up from the long lane of stairs towards four steel block like doors that were just begging to be opened.

Interval took some steady quick steps up the stair, a questioning puzzlement in his eyes as he analyzed the under areas of the outer lobby. Iota stayed along the ground with his own puzzling glare being infatuated with the skies above while Nightwing stood on the first step, head tilted, and postulated the speedster's sudden stop, "find something?"

"Hmm…there's no smog in this area," Interval obliged to the question

"What's wrong?" Iota asked catching up to the outer lobby area just before the door. Nightwing likewise followed suit and stepped up the steps at a heightened pace. All three came to stand under the overhanging roof and found themselves somewhat relieved now that the smog which had blinded them for most of their journey was for the most part gone, all particles just seemingly having dispersed away magically.

"These stone walls shouldn't be doing this good a job keeping the smog out and yet," Interval concluded, "there's none here," he hurriedly pulled away his breathing mask, snapping its suction and handing it off to its original owner Nightwing, "not a bit."

"Yeah, my sensors aren't even getting any trace readings..." he Nightwing hunched an eyebrow as he accepted his handed out device from Interval, "not from in here...but what's in here?" Nightwing sharply turned towards the doors as he retracted the apparatus from his mouth.

"It's a good question," Iota noted.

"Alright," Interval took to command, "let's take a look inside and see if we can find anything related to the smog…if this absence here is any indicator it could mean that the creature responsible is working out of here, maybe its blocking its off somehow."

"Yeah," Nightwing slowly slurred out as he made a dash ahead of his companions to the door, leaping one of the centred ones with enough force to cause its metal composition to bounce out a thud sound.

Interval and Iota followed their light minded companion to the multiple steel doors. Nightwing took to one knee, retracted a silver lined key from the tip his index finger with a smile, and angrily attempted to try to pick away at the circular lock piece just below the square handle piece. Iota, impatient as he always was, walked passed by the crouched bat-boy and simply grasped the handle and pulled accordingly to make it open. Interval followed Iota shortly, head shaking slight in dissatisfaction as he passed by Nightwing whom stayed on the floor waiting for the two of them to make their way in before he would follow, "my way is cooler."

"It's kind of dark," Nightwing stated, "but No worries," he peaked with excitement, "I got a flash light in one of these pockets," he continued with his hands working harder on the built in utility containers around his waist, rummaging with the hope that he would at some point come across the flashlight in his belt.

Interval and Iota stood rather ignorant of the bat-boys attempts to make himself appear useful, instead they were focussed upon the image ahead that engrained itself in their eyes. The hallway ahead was rather lengthy in its perception, carrying over the bleak grey cement imaging of the outdoors along the sides with several door sized indentations that presumably lead into rooms, but of keen interest was the illuminated entrance way at the end, a bright light shining through an opening that was at least two door sizes wide sitting centre of the wall. "You can put that away the moment you find it," Interval commented, "kind of bright over there."

"Do not walk towards the bright light," Nightwing stated in a cheerfully eerie voice as he lifted his arms with the ends of his hands aimed down and walked towards the light in a pale imitation of a zombie. Interval and Iota nodded towards one another and began to follow their friend.

"So what you think's behind the door?" Nightwing stated as the group came to a stop a short two metres outside the door that emanated the bright light, "let's take a look inside," he said as he proceeded to dash up to the evidently glass door and rub up his hands along it and pulling his head up close enough to peer inside.

"Hey?" Iota exclaimed, "did you hear that?"

"Rumbling?" Interval beckoned with a shocked facial gesture. He brought his head up slowly to look upwards at the ceiling above, a sheet of metal that was seemingly being hammered against on the other side, "it's coming from above," he concluded drawing the attention of his colleagues to look upwards as well.

Nightwing never quite dropped his grasp from the door, instead letting them slide down somewhat as his head pivoted on over his shoulder to look back and above, looking for the source of the persistent rumbling and contorting of the metal plate. "Perhaps some of the pipes are in need of some repairs..." he said in a mild intellectual tone. Suddenly he pulled his head back to the door and peaked up in his common cheer filled voice, "come on lets open the door!"

"No wait!" Interval shouted as he reached his right hand out to grab Nightwing shoulder but even with his super speed in hand he was unable to prevent the bat-boy from sliding one of the panel glass doors into its wall slot.

A sudden explosion of broken concrete chunk blew out from one side of the hallway and shot out from its cracks a golden gaseous form, composed of much similar compounds as the outside smog, which quickly encapsulated quite far back green glowing Iota taking him into the other side at enough force to bust through the solid wall but with a much greater immensity in volume. "I haven't even opened it yet!" Nightwing coldly shouted over his shoulder as he pulled his arms down from the clearly unmoved door. He turned sharply to take a look at the massive small cracked like hole within one of the walls and followed the pathway formed by dust clouds to the large mess of the much larger hole within the opposing wall. When the rubble had reached its final resting place on the floor it was quite immediately recognized that a significant portion of the wall had collapsed where Iota had been torn through. The two heroes stepped towards the opening and peered their heads in to take a look finding there to be a large set up lab equipment, but more importantly another significant hole in the wall ahead, "You think he went that way?"

Iota found himself surrounded in a cleft of dust being carried some distance through concrete wall after concrete wall, "Ouuu...For...Ahhh...Sakes..." he shouted through barred teeth as he began clawing rapidly at the intangible force of dust and fog that engulfed him, propelling him without discrimination. The intensity of his glowing emerald shield grew in intensity as he attempted to fly out. When his attempts to do so were stunted, he immediately resorted to flashing out some laser grade ammunition which simply blew out of foggy force resulting in the sound of breaking rock, the walls where the laser presumably landed. It was not long till he had found his acquired ring abilities be futile in breaking free from the force that carried him, but he was not ready to give up the fight just yet resulting instead to physical tactics, stretching out his limbs searching out for the solidarity within the cloud, the piece that held him attached within it. He somehow found himself able to get his head free but before he could get a good look at his tormentor all he could see was another wall ahead, "Is that steel?"

A large 'donk' sound made its way through out the facility, the source of which was only known by the teen hero whom collided into a solid steel wall. Iota slumped to ground, the subjectivity of his tormentor leaving him to soak in his wounds and take a mandatory rest, "OK..." he said with a grunt while he flipped over onto his back, head leaned up against the wall he had crashed into. He looked up and saw the smallest of indents in the wall where his head had collided, thankful no doubt that his emerald shield kept him safe from serious injury, "that hurt. Groan..." he unmistakably grovelled.

"It's some sort of gaseous creature...probably composed of the same stuff outside…interesting!" Interval stated with absolute fascination. The speedster began to take some small steps back towards the bright shining door where Nightwing stood backside against it. And while he stepped, he never once took his eyes off the dark cream coloured cloud that floated towards them at the other end of the hallway near the entrance where they first started.

"Let's try not to stare to long at it...ghosts always kill the living if you stare at them!" Nightwing said as he felt the open palms of his hands against the glass door feeling the suction that was induced by it.

"Nightwing," Interval tilted his head slightly to his colleague, eyes still focused on the creature, "get into one of the labs and see if you can get some water, it's our best bet."

"What are you going to be doing?"

"I'm a try to hold it off," Interval said picking up the clear large canister that Iota had dropped after he was attacked. He pulled up with both his hands and crouched slowly, placing the it safely on its side against the glass door, "I'll buy you some time..."

"Yeah, no reason to worry about Iota then I guess." Nightwing said as he began a steady side step against the wall, reaching towards the nearest lab door a couple metres back down the hallway, "good green-boy can take care of himself," he suddenly disappeared into the small indentation, pulling away at the solid steel door and sliding carefully into the lab room, his last part being his head as it glanced towards Interval and down to the approaching monstrous cloud. With a quick smile, he was in the room.

"Alright, I know you must be scared," Interval stepped forward reaching out with a friendly hand, "I don't mean you any harm we just want to know what has happened here..." he retracted himself, dropping solidly on both soles of his feet and letting his hands fall loosely to his sides. He became frighteningly puzzled by the creature's appearance, "can you speak to me?" he stated suggestively but clearly uncertain of himself as sweat began to dribble down from his hair and soak into his goggles.

Interval began to take some heavy breaths when the gaseous entity came to as sudden stop ten paces out of reach from him. The gaseous state of the creature began to shift, growing into a rather humanoid form. First stretching out from its core was two dark grey arms along with a spherical head piece. The core piece began to fashion into a solid chest plate that appeared much darker than the cream part, reaching towards a near metallic like armour which grew upward creeping along the neck forming triangular bars over the head. "Not particularly liking your formation..." Interval said under clenched teeth, maintaining a monotone; much too frightened to reveal his fear. Doubt in his ability to communicate quickly began to overcome his rational thinking, topping to a peak when he found that he had backed up to the glass door. As he looked at the creature head, it began to form golden circular eyes which protruded from between cracks in the plated armour that had encapsulated his face head; horns coming from off the corner sides of forehead, aiming with their sharp points to the ceiling above generating a mood of hate that Interval was not to particular fond of.

Following one last heavy breath, Interval reasserted himself with a strong step forward and assuming a commanding no nonsense tone, "last of my warnings, who are you?" It was the last words of his honest cause for communication, but his warning went unheeded as the creature continued to pan down on him.

The plates over what would be considered the mouth began to slide opening to a deep black hole, an infinite looking gap in the space of the creature's entirety. A loud moan began to creep out from its hole; dust now seemingly exiting from every angle of the beast: "You...KNOW HIM!" The creature raised its head as high as it could reach, just tapping onto the ceiling. Its arms became larger in its muscular girth and stretched out longer to touch the ground. The hands at the end protruded three finger claws which were nearly a foot long and drag along the floor, tearing away at the first layer of concrete.

Interval heart steadily began to pump harder as fear with a mixed sense of confusion quickly took its hold, "I know...a lot of people..." he stuttered to get out as a question.

"I WILL...DESTROY!" the creature moaned puffing up its chest to become more fearsome and bellowing a continuous stream of the illustrious gold dust.

"Don't come any closer..." Interval stated regaining his sharp edge. As the beast grew closer Interval felt he had no choice but to throw out his arm and slowly begin to turn it, "enough warnings," the twisting of his arm quickly went to an unimaginable speed creating a mini-vortex of wind that quickly sped down the hallway corridor bashing into the creature just as it saw it's opportunity to lunge at the lone hero. The wind of the vortex quickly over took the creature, blowing away its metallic looking armour like it was never solid to begin with.

Interval slowed to a complete stop once the creature had seemingly disappeared through the cracks in the concrete walls. After taking a moment to contemplate the situation he became startled to hear the familiar rattling noise occurring nearby. He took a few steps back towards the building entrance way, stepping over top of the broken concrete mounds that formed from the explosions. He took a look through the holes in the wall that Iota had unwillingly formed moments earlier then looked down towards the door that Nightwing had gone through, "Nightwing? You got that water?" he said with a bit of shock escaping his face, believing the more than often confused bat-boy to be the source of the pipe like rattling that hung overhead.

Wisps of the creature's essence began to pour through the cracked wall where it had first appeared, coming through on Interval's backside whom continued to step towards the distant doors. The creature began to reform its terrifying image, the metallic armour, plates and claws which wobbled lightly on its wrists. The claws rose up and ran along both sides of the hallway and scrapped silently along them as it made an approach on Interval. Interval, sensing danger, quickly shot up his head to look to the side but at that moment he turned he was confronted with a heavy had hit to his face, clawed no doubt by a massive fist of the creature knocking his head against the inner side of the concrete wall nearly knocking him unconscious instantly. "I WILL..." the creature continued to groan in its heavy hammed tone, coughing up the dust that made up its composition, "DESTROY HIM!"

* * *

Nightwing had found himself in testing lab room, counters and desks all lined up perfectly with one another, shelves lining every wall carrying large assortments of beakers and chemical containers that Nightwing only found interesting because of the cumbersome amount of 'flammable warning' logos. "Need to find water..." Nightwing muttered taking his attention from the chemical containers. He quickly found that all the counters had in the centre a deep steel basin sink which he immediately assumed was for the purpose of washing down excess chemicals. He quickly pattered up to the nearest one from the door he had just entered and proceeded to turn the green topped valve which he hoped would sputter the water chemical goodness but was stunned to find that nothing was coming out of the cone shaped tap like he had imagined. "Come on watery goodness...oh for...oh?" Nightwing noticed a door in the far corner which had a white sign with black writing that said 'washing down', "water, washing...same thing!" he concluded without hesitation. He quickly jumped up on the desk and made a dashed towards the far door which had become his hope for success in his given task.

Nightwing quickly retract his key imprint in his glove but couldn't find there to be a key hole, "...oh yeah...just twist," he nodded lightly regretting his stupidity. The key retracted and placed his hand on the circular nob, twisting and pulling the door open. "Water is here!" he rushed up to the far deep bottom sink at the end of the wall and took hold of the hose that protruded out from the back which he realized was the tap. He turned the tap on to its full strength and waited a few seconds to only be disappointed to got only a small stream. "There's got to be something stopping it in the back somewhere," as he stated dropping to one knee to take a look at the piping arrangement under and behind the large sink.

Nightwing felt something grab his leg and begin to pull him away, "no wait I haven't figured this out yet..." he grabbed hold of the hose and held on stretching it its full length which unravelled out from the room quite a distance. He found himself face to face with the creature of his nightmares, "so, would you like to help me find something?"

"YOU!" the creature groaned holding up Nightwing by the neck with its massive three prong metallic claw ready to tear his throat clean, "YOU...did THIS to ME!"

"Was that a question?" Nightwing raised his free hand to finger raise symbolizing his questioning nature. The creature didn't take to kind the demeanour of the bat-boy and placed more pressure on the boy's neck, shoving him deeper into the wall.

"Give ME MY LIFE BACK!" It moaned. The creature suddenly turned to a more emotional entity, "I...will destroy..." its voice tailed off, seemingly waiting for the tears to form but never quite being successful in such a natural operation.

"Yeah, but here's where I hope for some easy way out..." Nightwing pulled a batarang from his free left hand and flicked his wrist sharply, tossing the black bat shaped device across his chest towards the backroom sink. Both heads, the creature and Nightwing, watch the batarang fly till it hit a lock pin that was connected to a large pipe which further hooked up to the sink. Nightwing and the creature brought their gazes back together. A smile crept upon Nightwing's face, he held the hose up close, "if this doesn't do anything, could you "destroy' my speedy friend first?"

The strength of the water was felt immediately as it channelled through the hose becoming hard with pressure that flew right into the arm of the beastly creature turning it into glass breaking its grip around Nightwing. Its head turned suddenly, looking back over its shoulder to see Iota and Interval entering through the door, "Now! Do something!" Nightwing stated sharply as he dropped to the ground.

The creature fell backwards watching its arm shatter on the ground, some of the water had reached up to his shoulder and face creating a similar affect that had befallen its arm. It stumbled around developing a new fear that it had never felt before. Interval and Iota cautiously stepped forward watching as the creature slowly came undone, "IT PAINS ME!" it shouted in the bass moan. It dropped down lowly, his head now at stomach height of the teen heroes that had circled around him.

"Iota, get the cylinder ready!" Interval shouted as he quickly ran to speed and circling around the creature. The velocity of the wind quickly shattered what was left of the creature's armour seemingly causing it greater pain than it had already experienced. It continued to degrade further as the vortex of speed that Interval generated over whelmed him. Iota, feet firmly placed into the ground that he stood upon, quickly generated a large funnel composed of the emerald energy and placed it underneath the small tornado that had formed within the room. The capsule, the containment device, sat at the bottom of the fun, one side open and awaiting the entry of the creatures broken down essence. Interval came to a stop and watched as the tornado came undone and the creature fell through the green funnel right into the cylinder trapping it. Iota quickly encased the cylinder in a floating old fashioned bank vault which along with its block appearance included a non-essential combination lock, "that's it, we got it." Interval stated announcing their achievement.

"Yeah too bad, was really looking forward to a fight." Nightwing stated while twirling the hose, the steam of water having died down. Iota was quick to snap his hand on the back of Nightwing's head, "Ou! What did I say now?"

Interval placed his hand on the green safe and took a good look at their cylindrical cage that had suddenly gone smokey as was to be expected, "seems to be a creature with at least a conception of intelligence, albeit mildly..."

"So what?" Nightwing scoffed as he started heading for the door, "it tried to kill us. Now let's try the mystery door before I lose interest."

"Nightwing, it sounded like it knew you, do you know something?" Interval asked as he and Iota followed suit with the hovering green bank safe in tow.

"Nope, can't imagine I have," Nightwing responded with some uncalled for arrogance, "but come on, I've got a lot of villains I don't know, it's just comes with the territory."

"Iota, keep a good eye on the creature," Interval sharply commanded.

"Eh? Nothing is getting in or out," The teen lantern confirmed.

The boys hurried out of the room and into the hallway taking a look at the sliding door that shined brightly casting strange long shadows on their backsides, "bet you the answer to all this mystery is behind that door!" Nightwing stated, standing centre of the three and taking steps forwards towards the door.

"What mystery?" Iota asked with confusion.

"We already finished the assignment!" Interval chimed in.

"Let's just take a look, OK," Nightwing spat out with disappointment over his colleagues waning interest. He placed his thick grey gloves onto the glass door and slowly began to slide it open.

As the door came open the three boys entered the room placing their arms over top of their eyes in fear of the bright light that seemed to come in from unknown force. As they recuperated and took to the walls to the sides of the door they came to realize they were in a very small room the side walls being less than half the broad sides that the door and light source were connected to. After taking a quick look around and noticing the blackened areas on the smaller walls from which the light reached out to poor. Interval felt it best to make note of his conclusions: "It's some sort of energy tunnel or teleporter powered by light...this technology is wrong...its way to advance for this time..."

All of them stared at the circle hole of light on the opposite wall to the glass door, it pulsated consistently making bubbles of pure white energy evaporate consistently in front of their eyes, falling back deeply into a otherwise deeply held blue of the inner tunnel workings.

"I don't know what it is, but it looks kind of cool," Iota said taking his arm down to relax, "Where does it go?"

"Ah guys..." Nightwing stated lowly attempting to gain an undeserved attention from the other side of the room, "There's a dead person over here."

The three crowded around a middle age bald man in a brown jumpsuit who was sprawled out in a basic steel refined chair. Iota and Interval crossed along the side of the entrance door and joined Nightwing in surrounding the deceased fellow. They stood there with uneasiness in their stomachs, looking at the evident suffering that he must have endured with the processes of decay having been taken in long strides with blood vessels having burst, face swollen and his skin having turned a dark shade of brown and grey , "what a terrible way to go," Interval stated.

"What happened?" Nightwing asked turning to Interval.

"The smog must have gotten him...looks like all the liquid in his body turned to glass...must have been here when it first set off, would have gotten the brunt of it. It's amazing we were OK out there."

"AHHH!" Iota screamed out with a jump, falling backwards to the floor.

"What happened hero? Never seen a dead body before?" Nightwing said intimidatingly crossing his arms.

"No man...the creature has a face..." Iota commented, panic stricken upon his face.

"What?" Interval turned around with a look of shock and disbelief, "Of course, we saw the head!"

"No..." Iota responded with uneasiness seeping out of his mouth, "it's more human...I think its crying."

"What?" Interval questioned as he made an approach to the green safe where the capsule was enshrined.

"If someone's going to be shocked, it's going to be me, stop doing that." Nightwing stated with anger over Interval's sudden burst of puzzlement.

"Let's take a better look," Interval stated as all the boys crept down to take a look through the safety that cylinder was said to represent, "just fog..."

"No I swear...there! Look!" Iota rose his ring-less left hand to point a formation the gaseous inner cloud was forming.

All the boys became shocked to find a pale cream coloured face form within the capsule, gold coloured triangular patches sitting over where eyes supposedly were, "he looks sad." Iota stated, concern having wrapped up in him.

"Just a kid, He can't be much older than us..." Interval said with a heavy heart feeling responsible now for nearly killing the once seemingly lifeless entity which only exhibited signs of rudimentary anger, at least in his deduction.

"It's got to be a ruse..." Nightwing stated with a serious take, stepping back from the safe, "we went from calling it an 'it' to 'he', it may very well want our sympathy so that we may be liable to release it and give it another opportunity to kill us."

"No harm to the innocent victims…" Interval muttered, "Iota, can you secure it in the safe alone?"

"It can be done." Immediately a small pair of dark green pliers appeared inside the safe and proceeded to work away at the screw tap of the cylindrical cage, "sure we know what we're doing?"

"If he's a conscious life then we have no right to imprison it without reason. He must realize the position he's in. All we want to do is talk to him, not hurt him…the D.E.O have certain done enough of that."

As the top lid popped off with the pliers grip the familiar cream coloured smoke made its way from the cage and fluttered around in the safe, "can you make the safe bigger?", Interval asked. Iota nodded and allowed for the safe to grow to a near wall size as the creature's aura continued to expand till it had taken up the fullness of the safe.

"This is bad..." Nightwing stated with authority, stamping his feet in the ground with preparation for any fighting that may ensue.

"Well, how would you feel if you were imprisoned for possibly no reason?" Interval posited the philosophic question.

"Hello, I have...it's called living..." Nightwing snapped back in a cheeky manner, breaking away from the fighters pose to assume something more gangly and loose.

The dust and smoke seemingly dropped to the bottom of the safe and formed itself into an image of young boy that could be no older than fifteen. He wore a light grey jacket that went down to his knees and was buttoned twice around his chest over top of a full body suit of an off white body suit that connected seamlessly down to his shoes. Of note however, the boys spent special attention to two diamond patches that covered both his eyes allowing for minimal transference of what looked like black slanted slits for eyes.

Interval stepped closer and crouched down to take a good look at the mysterious boy sitting down, "Do you have a name..." the boy stared blankly at them, "It's alright, we're not here to harm you...do you know what happened here?"

The boy was sitting down on its knees sending the sides of his jacket over top of his thighs. His head darted around his case, looking around the safe and reaching a hasty conclusion that there was no way out of his predicament. His attention seemed to shift at Nightwing who stared down at him with his arms crossed, he then turned back to Interval who appeared to him to be of a more friendly nature, "I know..." he said softly, "what happened...but I don't want anyone to know...I want revenge!" He accentuated in a anger but which was nonetheless soft on account of the boys voice having not reached its full development.

"That's not how the world works," Interval started, "we're here to help…we can help you. Just let us know what happened..."

"I will not let him," he pointed with a menacing finger at Nightwing, raising somewhat from his kneeling position, "help me."

"Why, what did he do?" Interval calmly questioned.

"He made me like this...like this monster."

Iota and Interval were quick to turn and look at Nightwing who upon noticing dropped his arms and seemed slightly shock, "I don't know? Perhaps he's confused me with someone else?"

"Regardless of what he may have done..." Interval continued, "you need to clue us in if you want us to get you out of this holding."

"They experimented on me here...tortured me...took away everything from me and the others..." he pulled his knees up in front of his body and brought his arms around them and rocked back and forth slowly on his bottom. "I couldn't take it no more...it hurt me..." he turned his attention towards the decaying man in the chair as he leaned back on the safe wall,

"Who was he?" Interval asked as he too turned to take a look at the decaying man, "do you know what happened to him?"

"He was my friend, it was his idea to get me out...he did all of this for me...?"

"The smog outside?" Interval asked.

"Yes...it was the only way to get me and the others free...made from my own body," the boy looked up at Interval, "he died saving us all...created that tunnel for all of us to get out..."

"All of you? There's more?" Interval continued with his inquisition.

"Yes, they're all free..." the boy slowly began to smile before returning to a sombre look "but I just couldn't leave him here...I needed to protect him...he made a way out for us through the tunnel..." He nodded his head down resting his chin on his chest, "said it would protect us."

"I'm sorry, there's nothing any of us can do for him."

"I know... I felt him pass through..." he looked up to Jace, seemingly ready to cry, "please let me go..." he bashed the back of head against the safe wall.

Iota and Interval crowded around Nightwing some distance away, "we can't just give him back to them." Iota said with disgust.

"Granted, but something about this doesn't add up," Interval went on with his logical bent, "Nightwing, are you sure that you know nothing about him?"

Nightwing took a look down at his boots and then back up with a more serious face, "No...I don't," he replied with a long overdue serious tone.

"Alright..." Interval turned back to the former menacing creature, "we're going to get you out of here."

"We are?" all looks shot at Nightwing over his exclamation, disgust evident in their eyes, "yeah, of course." he muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest once more.

* * *

"Excellent boys," the elder D.E.O agent leader responded.

"Well, it was a tough uphill battle, but I slugged away and found victory." Nightwing commented.

"Thank you for that..." Esau continued with a sarcastic smile.

"What do you plan to do with the creature now?" Interval chimed in earning the attention of the D.E.O staff.

"It's been determined that the creature is much too dangerous to be maintained," Esau concluded.

"You're going to put it to sleep?" Iota said with a slight bit of shock.

"It's painless I assure you, it for the best really," Esau said sharply handing over the acquired cylinder to a nearby uniformed agent who proceeded to retreat to the D.E.O truck behind them, "We've discovered that water has an adverse effect to this smog the creature had generated; you can expect this smog to be taken care of within the week."

The boys watched intently as the cylinder was placed inside a slot on the side panel of the large truck, following the turning of a switch, water immediately entered the cylinder slowly freezing and frosting up the sides, the agent turned to the group and with a monotone voice stated his conclusions: "It checked in as the creature...rendered inert."

"Thank you for your service gentlemen, and don't be afraid to confide in your superiors of this great service to man, you all deserve appropriate praise."

"If only..." Interval stated coldly as he turned to run off followed by Nightwing and Iota taking to the air.

* * *

"Whatever you're called...I choose you!" Nightwing exclaimed as he threw a small cylindrical black package to the ground of softs blades of grass of the hillside the three heroes now stood upon, immediately splitting open to reveal the once former menacing creature to freedom. Iota and Interval, being unsettled, shot another glare in Nightwing's direction, "hey, if he fits in one of these then that phrase will definitely catch on!"

"As much as it pains me to say," Interval stated as he stepped closer to golden crusted smog as it slowly developed form and shape akin to the small boy they had just met. He sat down and looked up to his three heroes through his triangular patched eyes as they came up closer to him, "it's a good thing that the smog was derived from your genetic makeup," Interval continued, "otherwise that discussion with the D.E.O would have been a little more difficult than what became of it," the boy looked a tiny bit frightened as he searched his more recent memories as a possession of the D.E.O. He bent up his legs and grabbed hold of his toes pulling them back towards him all while crinkling the skin between his eyes as he continued to gaze upon them, "Do you have a name...do you remember anything of your life before this?"

"They referred to me as ODDO7717...I can't remember anything but it...except him," once looking in the direction of Nightwing, a slight sneer on his tongue, "I feel a great pain when I'm around him...he did something to me" he said shaking his head and bringing his hands up to grab it, "it's just to horrid to think about...all I remember is I come from some island in the far east..." his back began to rise up slowly pushing his feet out from his hands grasp, "I can't even remember what it's called..."

"I'm sorry..." Interval started.

"Oddo," Nightwing interrupted, pushing Interval to the side and kneeling down to talk to the sitting boy, "I don't know exactly what I've done to hurt you so much… but of what I do know is that your currently free to pursue a living that you see fit, free of the D.E.O. and their experiments," both looking eye to eye, "and if you want answers then maybe we can work towards them together sometime when we're both ready."

"Oddo," the boy stated as he nodded his head in affirmation, "I'm OK with that." Suddenly the odd boy rose to his feet, the gentle fog foaming around his form as he continued from the ground and floated on beyond to the sky, "thank you for your help my friends," he stuttered, "I don't expect this to be the last time we see one another."

"Oddo, hold up," Nightwing said pulling up a small square device from his utility belt, "take this...it's a communicator, if you ever need help, just give us a call," he said tossing it up to Oddo.

"Thank you," he turned to fly away muttering his first lines of freedom, "I'm free..."

Nightwing turned around to face the two puzzled heroes, "so you guys think that was a ghost? Cause we have evidence now right?"

"What happened there?" Interval said placing his hands firmly on his waist.

"Doing what heroes should be doing, helping the weak overcome the fists of the oppressors."

"No, what's going on Nightwing...what kind of an act was that?"

"OK," Nightwing relaxed himself and sighed, "I don't know what I might have done to him… perhaps he really has just got me confused with someone else…either way, it time I started taking some responsibility where it's required...that boy is all alone without us," he tapped back into his serious state of mind catching his new friends off guard, "time we did more than just cause problems for others after we've done our thing. Let's do some resolving for once rather than leave the aftermath for someone else."

"You done well by me," Interval said reassuringly, he turned to look at Iota, "so you think we might team up all again someday in the near future?"

"I guess I wouldn't mind, have to find a way to fit that in my complex schedule..." Iota stated with pride.

"Yeah yeah, let's do this again real soon so we can have emotional happy time and learn a valuable lesson by the end of each and every story," Nightwing stated sarcastically then booted up into his casually happy voice, "I like the sound of that!"


	2. Nightwing 1 Part 1

Nightwing #1  
Volume 1. Story 1.  
Why Can't I have a Cloaking Device? (Part 1)

_Chronology:  
__Pre-Young Justice #1__  
_

* * *

The tall and slender blonde woman took her seat on the firm three cushioned couch. As she did this she took a sip from a mug she clenched lightly in her right hand. She comb her short blonde hair with her left hand signifying her uncomfortable posture. Finding a suitable seating arrangement which consisted of her left leg bent underneath her anterior and her right leg hanging over the ledge of the couch, she proceeded to use her free hand to pat down her white blouse so that it fit well over the bunches of fabric that had formed up in her black dress pants, "he talks and talks but he never really says anything," she started as her guest followed suit by taking her seat in the double couch adjacent to her, "I answer all of his questions, but..." she looked away from her guest with the sharpest of blue eyes, "he never answers any of mine..." she raised her voice before it quickly declined into a low state of uncertainty that came out as a grovel, "I don't know what to do with him..."

"Oh Cassie," the responding voice came with softness and sincerity that Cassie could not help but look up to her guest while keeping her head aimed low, "If only could have known of this responsibility growing up."

"What responsibility?"

"The responsibility that comes with being a parent."

"OK, hold up," Cassie beckoned to reaffirm her position by presenting herself as normal, retracting her left lag out and straightening her back against the couch rest, "Its not like I'm his mother, I didn't ask to take care of anyone," she came across as snobbish.

"And still you accepted."

"He had nowhere else to go," Cassie turned her head away from her guest again but situated her gaze this time in the opposite direction feeling a sense of shame in her following statement: "his family...his mother abandoned him."

"Cassie," the sincerity catching Cassie attention to look towards her once more, "why don't you tell me the story from the beginning, what do you really think of him?"

"Well, he's a kid...with so much potential...he really wants to be a hero."

* * *

"Hello," the light but still heavy undertone voice came from the door. A boy stuck his face inside the apartment's front room and then leaned back into the pink carpeted hallway. He began to blink in three second intervals as a puzzled Cassie stood towering above him trying to steady herself on the door frame. The boy clenched tightly to a decently sized black briefcase while a larger black suitcase with its handle prongs extended sat behind him in the hallway, "can I come in?" Cassie stood motionless with her eyes wide, quite unable to understand the boy at her doorway, "OK then," he smiled, "just making my way through then." The boy fancied himself a dark blue jacket which he had zipped up to his collar bone covering a black shirt that seemed more suitable for a preacher but lacked the collar the defined collar.

"I'm sorry," Cassie mustered up to say as she closed her eyes and let her head fall down to her chest. Steadying herself on her own legs, she let go of the door frame and turned to take a look at the young boy finding his way by her into the inner corridor of her apartment, "You just look familiar."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," the boy passed her by leaving the larger suitcase in his wake. He proceeded ahead of a living room area to his left and stopped at a desk on the hallway wall some distance from the door. He grabbed hold of a picture on the desk and immediately began to examine it, "You got a picture of the family; jet black hair, blue eyes, perfect cheek bones and a dashing smile," he came across slight sarcastic as he took a look up at Cassie with a smile. He placed the picture down back in its defined location amongst others, "That's definitely us."

"Diana told me about you," Cassie began continuing her puzzlement, "Todd isn't it?" he nodded, "but that must have been..." she shook her head now conveying to her new friend her flustered state.

"Six months ago?" he grabbed an older photo of Cassie standing next to some of a similar appearance, "Why'd you cut your hair?"

"Six months?" Todd put the picture back on the table, "what has Diana been doing with you for half a year?"

"The Graysons took me in..." he started to fidget with his leg as his gaze fell to the floor, "things didn't exactly work out..." he looked up to smile, "all for the better though since I'm here now right?"

"What's that on your shirt?" Cassie extended her pointing finger making note of a white envelope firmly taped to Todd's shirt.

"Oh this," Todd began to unzip the thin blue jacket as Cassie made her way over and took a yank at the envelope to get it off of him, "Diana wanted you to have it..."

"Why not just hand it to me?" Cassie asked as she examined the envelope.

"Ahem," he coughed, "She doesn't exactly think of me as the most reliable person...at least that's what she tells me...whenever I see her..." he said growing ever so quietly with every word, "So what's it say?" he perked up.

"Well, it's in a legal envelope," Cassie stated as she walked down less than a metre down the corridor and turned into the first door which she proceeded to open and make her way into the room it revealed.

"Meaning?" Todd said as he made good on following her to the nearby doorway.

"It's important," upon turning into the room, Todd's foot got caught on a small pile of book stacked on the floor. Looking up, he noticed that he had just entered some sort of study room; wall to wall bookshelves stacked beyond its limit with books, seemingly uninteresting figures and devices littered, papers of no importance flapping and becoming worn through with every gust of wind, and then desk where Cassie had taken to residing behind occupying the single comfy coated green chair. The desktop was littered with books of various sizes, trinkets with historic decay and papers of such a magnitude that the computer console was now covered an thus unusable. Though once a majestic tool of acquiring information, the computer was now nothing more than an expensive paperweight.

Cassie took a small metal envelope opener from the top drawer of the wooden desk and proceeded to tear away at the envelope flap keeping the contents enclosed. She pulled up the note and flipped it open and quickly scanned the writing, "My, it's been some time since I've seen Diana write a letter in her own hand."

"Really?" Todd intruded as he picked up the books he had spilled earlier, "I've seen her write several since I've gotten here...oh" he began to think and looked at the shocked reaction of Cassie, "that's not good?"

"Oh..." Cassie groaned as she put the paper down to her lap. She attempted to make a smile as she gathered the attention of Todd, "It would appear..." she clenched up her lips, "that I'll be taking care of you for the next little while."

"Duh," Todd retorted as he leaned against the door frame having felt accomplished in cleaning up his accidental mess, "I knew that."

"Well that's great," she attempted to pull off a smile but was clearly thinking other thoughts.

"Yeah, so where should I be making myself at home?" Todd said with an open mind.

"We're going to have to have a proper discussion about this," Cassie began as she stood up and ironed out the crinkles of her white blouse with her hands "Hera knows Diana and I are going to have to discuss this," she muttered under her breath looking up at the ceiling to avoid Todd's consistent glow, "I was just on my way out to the office when you arrived," she stated as she returned to normal state of mind.

"Great, can I come!" Todd shot up with glee pulling his hands into fists prepared to jump at the moment of acceptance.

"Well-" she quickly started hoping to form the foundation of a rant.

"Alright awesome," Todd zipped up his jacket to its fullest extent raising the collar just up to the forefront of his chin.

Cassie let out a brief sigh as her mind began to wander into her thoughts, "Alright," she said coolly as she came to her senses, "The cars in the basement, just let me get my coat and briefcase," Cassie placed the letter on her desk letting it fall into the lost memories stored on paper.

"Can I drive?"

"No," she turned with a smile dropping to his level and patted his head.

* * *

"Come on," Todd pleaded, "I spent hours with Grayson behind the wheel...I was trained by the best," the long high trimmed deep red vehicle made its way on the highway that neatly created the view of the sky line as they passed the large glass and steel structures that made the high rise of the full developed city, "it was vehicle ten times the speed of this bucket."

"I like my car," Cassie retorted with a bit of cynicism, "Its economy class, better energy conservation," she continued perhaps with the desire to impart in Todd some of her noble beliefs but came across as snobbish, "if everyone was as responsible as us they would be driving one also."

"Can't I drive though?" intruded staring at the ledge of the highway hoping to catch a glimpse of the ground knowing full well of its dreary state that lacked any environmental nature but the busy human bodies that may have as well be machines in their accustomed routines.

"Stop bringing this up, I feel like we've had this conversation the whole trip here."

"We have," Todd interjected, "every line from the dialogue since we've left relates to this exact discussion: I want to drive!"

"We're almost there, just relax and stay quiet for a bit," Cassie clutched the wheel and pressed her foot down lightly on break pad as she edged the long vehicle down platformed marked as an exit from the highway and thus a gateway to the existing world below made up of the base floors of buildings where the doors lined every wall, opening and closing at alarming speeds collecting people and spitting them out from day to day.

* * *

The first few steps inside the building proved to be a marvellous sight for Todd as he began to slow down his pace to look at the marble pillars as they made themselves pronounced as the up-lifters of balconies and floors above him. Extending up three floors was a large glass dome which sparkled with the presence of sunlight on to the atrium below. People in black jackets and buttoned up white or grey shirts all walked about the place heading down hallways, passing secretary desks forcing themselves to sometimes wave with a smile and others yet choose to go completely cold taking their focus in life to be that of self-assurance. Of it though, Todd could hardly imagine a the place for an established hero like Cassie to be working despite her attire closely resembling that of the others. "Reminds me of the Reichstag..." he pointed up, "you know the glass dome in Berlin!" Todd said trying to catch Cassie's attention who stood in the centre of the atrium floor; the nicest form that linoleum could make.

"You've been to Germany?" she asked returning his gaze.

"No..." Nightwing began retracting to his pointing finger to his face as if in puzzlement, "well, I guess I don't really know...it's just a great achievement of a building I suppose."

"Indeed," Cassie responded clutching her briefcase to her inner waist and took her glare to the surrounding environment she had just entered, "come along then, my office is this way."

After a brief moment of contemplation regarding the excellent architecture, Todd took to following Cassie who was heading down the large hallway to their left. They came across the glass tables occupied by young secretaries as they worked furiously to maintain their positions at the front of the building. Never once did their eyes leave the computer screens. "So you really work here?" Todd said amused by the prospect.

"Yep."

"Seems, really big for a law office..." Todd questioned now catching up and coming on par with Cassie. The hallway was large and long, each side containing a mixed sizes of offices spaces dedicated to the hard workers of the court. Recognizing that his attire lacked a certain unnamed uniform code that Cassie and the other civil servants wore, Todd began to feel a bit segregated pulling his head down to the collar till it had covered his mouth and shame.

"Oh there are plenty of things that go on here," Cassie responded as she turned to a smaller hallway some distance down and to their right. They encountered a short seven step stairway which Todd simply jumped down each step one at a time while Cassie calmly walked down using the steel rail protruding from the ground for support, "There is plenty of injustice in the world and it can't always be beaten with a strong fist, there is plenty of fighting in the courtroom."

"Anything like on TV?"

The two of them made their way through the chiselled hallways and by the fancy folks, "looks like a strip market," Todd commented as he took a look at the glass roof that took a pyramid shape and extended all the way down the hall. Cassie came to a stop at one of the doors like all the others; however, emblazoned on this door's glass exterior were the simple words: 'Law Offices of Sandsmark and co.' Todd found this to be unusual and quickly shot up the question he had hoped he could hold back from asking, "What a silly name."

"Excuse me?" Cassie shot back as she placed her delicate hand around the square handle pulling it towards them.

"Alright, correct me if I'm wrong but doesn't the world already know who you are? I mean hasn't it been public knowledge for years now...isn't this like handing yourself over to whoever wants to beat on you this week?"

"I guess you don't know that much about us after all."

"It's not so much as knowing as it about caring, your stories weren't exactly reading material unless they were crossovers," Todd said as he clambered to follow Cassie into the room without interacting with the slowly closing door.

"Let's just say my father has given me a little gift."

Todd nodded and then took his first steps into Cassie office space. Immediately, he began to observe the basic architecture. It was quite large; however this was deceptive to him since upon viewing the distance he came to realize that the lengthwise was most probably one sixth of its broadsides. Of the most important furnishings of the office was the L-shaped fine wood desk to his immediate right. The desk situated itself touching the door wall with the smaller end of the L and the other part nearly connected to the adjacent wall. On the longer side of the desk sat two monitor screens that didn't seem to be on, additionally various law books and coloured folders were clumsily placed on the top seemingly waiting to be organized properly. Further back to the left appeared to Todd to be a large atrium like structure with windows indoors covered by digital blinds which he thus assumed meant the room served the purpose for private meetings. A hallway immediately to its side seemed to contain yet even smaller offices, "seems kind of dreary for someone like yourself...kind a dark...ever think of turning up the lights?"

"When we don't need the lights, we keep them on low," Cassie retorted, "Where are we at Celeste?"

A tiny brunette head girl popped her head from behind the L-shaped desk, she appeared to adjust her self-grabbing hold of the desk ledge and propping herself up using a nearby chair. She seemed to be quite a small person but seemed to offset such appearances by dressing in attire that some would consider to be 'uplifting', straight black short sleeved shirt with a cuffed collar, her voice however betrayed her as being somewhat weaker those of whom she worked for, "A Mr. Batemen wants to talk to you, I kept trying to tell him that we don't normally do his kind of cases but he continued to insist..." She took her eyes off of Cassie's for a moment and found herself looking into the eyes of Todd who when noticing such attention raised his hand and smiled with his perfect teeth as he waved kindly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Cassie stated as she turned to see the motions Todd was making, "This is my nephew Todd..." Cassie paused, "not sure I'll get used to saying that."

"I see that there is a certain standard for appearance and perfection that runs in your family."

"Well," Cassie took the moment to look at Todd noticing his strikingly good shaped appearance in the vein of his family, "I suppose it's a natural occurring thing...what kind of case has he brought to us?" now returning to her formal business mode.

"He hasn't said much, some form of wrongful conviction," Celeste stated trying to make for the absolute of form of professionalism, "He's been waiting for nearly ten minutes in your office."

"Thank you, I'll take it from here," Cassie stated as she made her way to the hallway at near the centre of the main room. Uncertain as to what his next course of action should be, Todd decided to follow her walking ever so slightly to see Celeste who continued her stare at Todd who now recognized that the deep green shade of hers actually made her appear kind of menacing.

"So what's with her?" Todd beckoned as he grew closer to Cassie's business pace down the hallway.

"Well, I guess she's sort of my secretary."

"Sort of?"

"Yes, she'll be finishing law school pretty soon," Cassie paused, "she's expecting to take the Bar exam before the year runs out."

"How exciting," Todd said with a bit of sarcasm as they made themselves slowly down the hallway. Todd came to seeing the ending of the darkened hallway. Somewhere down there was a sign above a doorway which signalled in red neon lights that this was an emergency exit.

"Why don't you go wait in the meeting room while I take this," Cassie said with jest now seemingly hopping not to anger Todd to any degree.

"How long is that going to be?" Todd looked up at her with hunched eyebrows betraying some desire for sympathy.

"I don't know," Cassie said with a sigh, attempting to make a seemingly impossible truth seem less worse than it probably will be, "You wanted to come Todd," she smiled as she took the higher ground, "this is work now. I shouldn't be that long."

"Can't I explore the place?"

"No!" Cassie retorted now showing signs of increasing seriousness, "I'll be back soon, please just wait for me in the meeting room," Cassie turned to the open hallway where she caught the attention of Celeste and signalled her to ensure that Todd would be constrained to the office space.

"Alright," Todd finally relented, coldly muttering small expletive sentiments under his breath.

* * *

"Hello Mr. Batemen," Cassie greeted him as she made her way around the two cushioned chairs, one of course occupied by the client, and came to a stop behind her own desk, "lights ninety percent," Cassie stated as she pulled her black cushioned chair and pulled herself close to the desk once she had properly taken her seat. The panels above began to brighten up giving detail to room, while the furnishings matched the main office; in contrast to Cassie's home office this was particularly clean with various old styled books coating the shelves that surrounded the sides of the room with two black file cabinets, one on each side of her. Cassie brought her arms forward across the wooden table top, "how can I help you?"

Mr. Batemen was a rather round being with disproportionally short arms but offset such appearances with most visions being shifted towards his large head fashioned with a near perfect hooked nose. His eyes were shot and well sunken and he sat uncomfortably in his chair unable to lift his hands from his knees, though expensively dressed, he came across as perhaps the most humble of beings, "I know you normally don't take these kinds of cases..." his voice was gravely and he seemed to consciously speed up his voice, "but I understand from my colleagues that you are certainly one of the better consultants in the city..." he glared seemingly beyond her never catching eyes with each other.

"Whats the case Mr. Batemen?" Cassie shot out in an attempt to ascertain a point as she acknowledged that Mr. Batemen's well played demeanour was beginning to fade.

"It's my son..." he continued shaking off his state of mind, "with elections this spring...I can't bear to have him..." his voice trailed off hoping that Cassie would be able to fill in with her own understanding, "I have his file," he left his position for the first time, retracting his hands and reaching down to grab hold of the brown briefcase on the ground next to him, he pulled it up and placed it on his knees and proceeded to use both his able hands to flick open the switches that allowed for the top to flip open. He immediately pulled from its contents a cream coloured folder, "My advisers said there's nothing we can do...he can't have done any of this..." he slowed down attempting to create a composure that symbolized the essence of calmness.

* * *

"What did she expect me to do in here anyway?" Todd cordially talked to himself as he headed back into the hallway then stopped to watch the door the meeting room close slowly. With his right foot a few paces forward from his left he took to pivoting on it to take a look at Celeste who appeared to Todd to have fallen asleep on the desk top, "what does caffeine do again?" He glided across the broad side of the hallway and leaned up gently against Cassie's office and leaned his head up against the door slowly before coming to a complete stop as he felt the coldness shift itself onto the cartilage of his ear, "I can't hear d-"

"Can I help you?" A calm voice made itself present some few distance away down the hallway. Todd turned to see a tall man with a young circular face and a well-trimmed body decked out in a very expensive slate colour suit. Todd attempted to ascertain something specific about the gentlemen, but other than his soft voice, he drew a blank drawing a conclusion that the man was decisively average, "I take it your having difficulty thinking at the moment."

"It hurts...to think sometimes," Todd responded sharply as he turned his body to face the man up straight.

"Yes, I hear that a lot more than you'd..." he paused, "think." The man responded with a smile, "why don't you come into my office," he raised his left and hand a motioned it to mean for Todd to come and follow him. With a seemingly uninteresting alternative of waiting, Todd followed the strange man against common reason which dictated that when common reason is impaired crawl into a corner and don't come out till the fog has disappeared completely.

"Who are you exactly?" Todd asked as the man waved him in.

"Well," he started, "You can call me The Attorney."

"What a unpredictable name," Todd stated with a glee of sarcasm. He found the office space to be empty: devoid of books, just shelves and filing cabinets but devoid of labels signifying their hollowed insides; though, as appears to be the norm of this office, a black furnished wood desk lay centre with two stationed chairs with their backs to the door and one much more cushioned chair that swivelled on five balls behind the desk. "Is there some sorta of law of energy conservation that everyone around her follows? How can anyone see," he waved his hands up in the air wildly.

"My apologies," the man said cordially snapping the fingers of his right hand. Todd watched with a bit of glee as the lights began to start up and gradually become brighter and brighter. He walked around the desk allowing for Todd to take his seat in one of the stationed chairs while he took to the swivelling chair positioning himself so as to face his guest more comfortably. Todd began to furiously zip and unzip his blue jacket seemingly intent on trying to think, "Now then, Todd is it?" Todd nodded in compliance, "Do you like Cassie much?"

Todd looked at the ground and settled on his jacket zipper being down just an inch below his neck, concerns in his head wondered if he was being threatened with something, "a gift from her father..." he muttered to himself, "I suppose so...she seems nice." he spoke up.

"That's not what I'm thinking," the Attorney retorted, "No, I suspect you have some sort of inherent need to fulfil in light of your more recent past."

Todd's head shot up, "fulfilment? What kind," he continued with a questioning glare.

"It's very unfortunate Todd, but it wasn't your fault. You need to reconcile with that," The Attorney concluded folding his hands together and leaning back against the hard backing of his chair.

"What are you talking about?" Todd shook his head taking a glance at the desk and the ground collecting his thoughts.

"What if I told you I could help you get on Cassie's ever so good side?" Todd attempted to nod but could only stare at the man. The Attorney reached into one of the desk drawers and proceeded to pull up one brown document folder. He turned to smile at Todd and then turned his focus on the document which he pulled out, "yes, this should do," he assumed his standard position before tossing the folder to the edge of the desk so that it turned to face Todd the proper way. Instinctively, Todd leaned in to take a look at the document in question.

"What is it?" he said analyzing the document before picking it up to attempt to open it.

"Consider it a good deed, we are always watching out for you Todd; maybe once you've got this sorted out you'll be able to come home" he said cordially as if there was no reason to question his words, "I'm sure it'll come in handy."

Todd proceeded to open up the folder and take a browse of the contents recognizing his complete difficulty in reading any of the real legal documents, "I don't understand this stuff..." Todd said looking up and placing the multiple sheets of doctrine back into the folder.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out..." he stood up and proceeded to make his way to the door, "just don't tell Cassie about this, wouldn't want her to think any less of your ability to solve a case," he opened the door and motioned for Todd to stand up, "Now though, if you'll excuse me, I have another meeting."

"Yeah," Todd said looking up at the man who smiled with his clean features, "but what is this stuff...this case?" Todd questioned as he followed through on the man's desire.

"Why it's Cassie's case of course..." he looked Todd in the eyes, "help her."

"Thank you then..." Todd said uncertain of whether such a compliance was necessary. He proceeded to tuck the brown folder into his jacket and left the room. "What home?" Todd took his time walking up the hallway now noticing that Celeste appeared to have slipped and hit her head against the desk top for her body was sprawled out on the floor with her two hands buttoned up all over her head.

* * *

"So that was fun and exciting," Todd said with a sad unemotional sarcasm.

"It's work." Cassie responded with a more serious formation of sarcasm, "No one was asked to enjoy it. Best you focus on something you love."

"So where am I staying?"

"Oh," Cassie took a moment to contemplate the situation, "yeah..." she uttered prepared to pause in mid-sentence more than anything, "I have a spare room that I planned for...well never mind," she nodded her head, "I guess it's now more of a convenience now, never know when someone new is going to be coming through...weird how that seems to be a reoccurring theme throughout my life."

"For real!" Todd responded echoing the sentiment.

Cassie proceeded to take off her black overcoat and place it on the desk opposing the one full of pictures, then in near synchronizing with Todd, each shoe came off easy one by one, "It's just upstairs."

"There's stairs?"

Cassie took the lead taking him down the hallway leading into the main components of the apartment passing the living room and the entrance way into Cassie's study room and stopping at the entrance to the kitchen so that a left turn may be taken to see the stairs a short metre away, "Come on, Come on," Cassie began playfully as she pattered her way up the stairs.

"I'm sorry, the hallway seems longer when you have to describe it..." Todd responded with a tinge of uncommon seriousness. He came to the top and noticed Cassie a few metres down the hall way where she had opened a door and proceeded to cite such as being his room. Todd trudged forward passing a closet space and a door to his right and three more doors to his left, the first two evenly spaced and the last at the far end which he was saddened to think was the master bedroom that Cassie had taken as her personal haven, "So what have I got to deal with?" Todd said as he circled around and took a look beyond the oak door to see his room, "hmm" he hummed, a small smile beginning to form, "its a perfect coat of blue." Todd took a look around seeing it as a decently sized rectangle with a certain metre long window that reached to ceiling. He soon found himself imagining that it would come in nicely for jumping in and out of throughout the night.

"Indeed..." Cassie said a similar smile beginning to form.

"We're a good few stories up, I bet that comes in handy for your late night exploits," Todd said as he examined the window and attempted to formulate a pattern for jumping through in his mind.

"Yes," Cassie said with a sigh, "I was reading up on some of your exploits a while ago..." she stated, "but if you're going to be doing what we do best, I'm not going to stop you, but you have to be careful as long as you're in this household."

"Household?"

"Yes," Cassie stated with a stern tongue that she hoped would make Todd instill in himself some responsibility, "because of the way this place is designed, our living quarters are directly above someone else living space, so quiet activities is a must."

Todd seemed to just nod all this off as he took the moment to hit the floor hard with his right foot articulating the hardness of it determining that while the exterior may be a cream coloured carpet with a wood panels as a trip, true reason would dictate there to be steal plating and insulation, "worry about sound...?" he muttered under his breath as he headed back to the door but was blocked by the towering amazonian figure, "I don't want to get caught up in anything in the superhero community when I'm living at home, if you're going to have to suit up her be sure no one..." she raised her hands up to her waist, "no one is around to see it happen," her mouth opened to breath then curled up into a closed mouth smile, "then I think we can get along nicely."

"What did you say this room was for again?" Todd made his way to the light switch near the door where he began to play with the settings that caused the lights to turn up higher and lower.

Cassie became slightly enraged by this and justly knocked his hand down from the switch settings, "just for some...personal things." she closed her eyes and looked away from him.

"Yeah..." Todd said as he left the room and entered the hallway again once more with Cassie "I'm a have my stuff shipped in quickly," he smiled as he turned to head back to the stairs.

"stuff...? what stuff?" Cassie was startled as she followed him.

"like things to live with kind of stuff." Todd said as he pulled up a small rectangular device from his pocket which he turned on and pressed an assortment of button, "I lived with someone that one of the richest men in the world considers his son...I'm used to having a room three times that big with a ton of useless things I probably don't need," he said cheerfully now as he headed down the stairs looking for some privacy to make his call.

* * *

"Yeah...I know!" Cassie shout into the cordless phone. She was leaning against the wall of the kitchen watching as men in black jumpsuits that were embedded with the 'WayneTech' logo on their shirt pocket passed her by carrying a large assortments of objects; a desk, a chair and the frame of a was assumed to be a relatively large bed. "But that was three months ago Diana..." she paused to return to a more calm voice, "where was the warning? How long is he staying?" Catching her breath, she let herself listen hoping that Diana would be stricken with the desire to answer her every plea, "Do you know anything about him?...no...no...I guess I just don't know what to ask," she ran her hand through her short blond hair, "Well I guess I don't mind...he seems to have taken well to it...but I'm busy also, I have a case that's very important...I don't know what to do with him...No you're right...alright, alright sure...next weekend then. I'll call." Coming to her senses, Cassie sighed and placed the telephone on the holder just as Todd suddenly managed to make his way around the mattress an employee was carrying and into the kitchen where Cassie was still clutching the wall with her eyes closed.

Todd took a look around her and noticed another entry way beside her that led to a small dining arrangement, a standard wood table surrounded by four simple chairs, "You know I could really have the place sprucened up...'sprucened', is that a word still?" Todd took a moment to ponder raising his hand to his mouth before looking up to Cassie recognizing her current state as one that is hard to manage.

"I hardly eat here..." she said with her eyes still shut and body unmoving.

"Is there something wrong," Todd said looking up at her.

Cassie leaned down and placed her hands on Todd's shoulders, "Todd, I want you to know that I'm happy you're going to be staying with me for the next little while."

Todd was stricken with a bit of speechlessness but words suddenly began to form from his near perfect cheek structure, "OK."

"Now though, I have a very important case on hand, I trust you to take care of yourself for the next little while," she nodded and stared deeply into Todd's eyes till he was able to acknowledge her.

"Yeah," Todd responded as she watched Cassie leave the kitchen area dodging the employees leaving the apartment, "I think their near done here, I'll just...what's your case about?" The door into the study came to a shut and Todd stood awkwardly for a moment as the final employee came down the stairs and smiled with his crooked teeth and then in a similarly awkward state proceeded to lead himself out of the apartment. Todd looked around realizing the emptiness, "awesome."

* * *

Todd paced around the room taking a measure of all his belongings and their placements assuring that everything was done to his specifications...and then some. "Yeah Proxy, I don't think I got a computer link up to the bat computer..."

"It's not exactly something that can be handed to civilian workers to be passed around to some indulgent heroes."

"Granted, but I feel I got shorted here," he raised his free hand in defiance of the situation, "the best I've got here is the cowl communicator..." he shifted the cowl piece to be more comfortable near his head, "it blows...Mr. Wayne's probably watching me while I sleep."

"With what he understands of you...I wouldn't be the least surprised."

Todd circled the middle space of his room, and came to a pause at the his bed almost directly under the window the ending of which just came short of the doorway. Further down the way was Todd's large classical wooden dresser and his empty desk directly across it which aimed a little directly below the large window which took the expanse of the upper part of the room. All the furnishings stood to be a dark shade of a blue, a perfect match for the current offset blue paint job of the room itself.

"How're you fitting in?"

"You know...it's great...really," Todd shifted around the Nightwing cowl attempting to get a better grip on it without having to hold on the full costume which extended from it, "Cassie's really great I guess..."

"You have some minor issues?"

"She seems all about fighting the good fight in her civilian uniform...when Grayson was talking about her I got all these notions of uber fighting woman...I suppose I was hoping for some action femme fatale style."

"Do you even understand what that means."

"No...but the media tells me it's awesome...I want to start a fight..." Todd stared nervously at the brown folder that he placed on his desk when he first checked into his new room, "I'm not too good at reading these legal files, but I have this case here I was hoping you could help me with."

"Scan it through. Legal doc? There a client name?"

"Yeah," Todd commented with a knowledgeable tone as if used to this kind of discussion, "A Mr. Pat Batemen," he took to the documents from within the brown folder and proceeded to pull up the glove from his costume and proceeded to flip open a patch on the index finger and watched as it produced a green widespread light that he proceeded to use to scan over the papers, flipping over to a new one when it had completed its work. "She seems to be taking this case pretty seriously,"

"Who?"

"Oh Cassie..." he commented, "really who else," he muttered under his breath.

"Does she know you're doing any of this..."

Todd took a moment to contemplate and remember the words of the Attorney but came short of the mysteriousness of the man's appearance to him, "No...but I think I can help. She must be afraid to get into the trenches, I can solve the case with some bat-power!"

"No I don't think that's the case."

"What do you mean," Todd's voice dropped to a less heroic tone as he continued his scanning nearing the end.

"Todd, the first page tells the story."

Todd's head shot up as he pushed himself up from the desk with his free hand while he fumbled to keep the communicator piece close to his ear, "It does? Are you sure?"

"It's just text..."

"Really? What's it say?"

"Jacob Batemen, the son, is being accused of pedalling drugs."

"Dealing?"

"In a manner of speaking...the drugs were legal."

"How so?"

"Turns out he was in an vehicle accident some time back, been taking pain killers, perhaps maybe a bit too much, his doctor oversubscribed him...nearly five times the normal dosage...could of lasted him a year but I guess it didn't. Some of the enquiries the police have made shows some suspicion that he returned the following month for more."

"Still listening."

"I didn't ask. Get this, the doctor has not been found to comment on the case and the attorney has re-filed the case several times."

"Overzealous much?"

"The D.A. Supports a rival candidate."

"Rival what?"

"Batemen is in the political office, he's running for re-election."

"What?"

"For mayor."

"What?"

"Are you dressed yet?"

"Oh yeah, I'm ready."

Todd stood to full attention decked out in the full Nightwing suit, though with many modifications that made it distinguished from its predecessor. A full simple blue bird which when followed up its neck appeared to be two beaks, the large of which at the highest peak. His cowl covered the entirety of his face and shared many similarities with his mentor though in contrast to him, Nightwing's ears were curved back. His gloves were a dark grey and thick seemingly allowing for his fingers to roam around a near one and half centre metre, though loose, the forearm portion was tightly bound by round circular disks that raised a few centre metres from his arm and looked like decent sized compartments. His boots followed in a similar manner except that they were not bound and thus fell short of his legs and dropped near to his ankles making it seem as though his soles were the only thing keep the boots attached. After a few quick stretches to get some minor flexibility ready, Nightwing began to play with his belt setting twisting the metal circle around the blue light at the centre of built in utility belt, "I can't get the cloak to come on."

"It's been disabled."

"What for?"

There seemed a be a long withdrawn pause, "I think you know."

"No..." Nightwing stated bemused. He proceeded to press the switch on the wall just underneath the window that electronically signalled for it to be open. Nightwing waited a few moments for the glass to fall through into the wall then jumped up onto the sill and took a look down the ground below him, "What kind of drugs?" He stated trying to become serious as he focused on the parked vehicles below and the moon as it's light began to push through the clouds signalling the peak of the night. Finding no one within a viewable distance, Nightwing prepared himself mentally for the tasks ahead.

"A pain killer called 'Cirius'"

"Awesome, what do we know about it."

"I'm pulling up statistics now. If you're really invested in this case, your first priority should be to find this Doctor Thead."

"I'm on it...wait who?"

"The doctor who prescribed Batemen's son the drugs; Karl Thead, he apparently works at the Norris Grove research hospital."

Nightwing raised himself up and down a few times then to a leap from his fourth story room and immediately retracted the blue wings from under his arms raising them ever so slightly to cause a gliding motion. Just as it seemed that he was about to run head first into the plain grey town complex building in front of him, he signalled for the rockets from his soles to turn on and give him some speed. Instantly, a shot charged fuel propelled him upwards and over top the building leaving a trail of curled black smoke. Bringing his arms in close to his sides to maximize the speed, Nightwing's ascent took him graciously over the building, "I'm going to the garage to get the Blue Bird," Nightwing continued with his formal speech, "you've got an address for me to start looking into."

"Only an Office address. I'll have it wired into the Blue Bird system."

"But I wanted to drive..." his facade of seriousness dropped.

"I've got details on Cirius. Quite a serious counter drug, effective in all studies...few concerns, the bottle says don't take all at once..."

"Bottle?"

"I have a bottle. I'll be dissecting it now."

"Schway, I'm almost at the garage."

* * *

A long black vehicle darted its way over top and beyond the designated highway. Though all vehicles are designated to stay within the perimeters of the road, Nightwing's classification as a super hero placed him in a position above the law; more guidelines really, it surprised him that so many civilians didn't bend the rules a bit and fly up a bit to take a look at the world from above. "So what do we know about this doctor," the vehicle made its way up into the skyline allowing for the shine of a moon, now free from the clouds, gaze upon it. The main body of the vehicle was simple in its oval shape, protruding forward it however were two large spike like features, one on either side, with blue coloured panels plated on the inside of them. The main body connected itself to a large black box piece with the top curving into the the long windshield that covered the majority of the top. Underneath this box were two circular devices that appeared to be the source of propulsion for the vehicle.

"I'm finding anything of use, appears to be just a physician."

"That's not helpful," Nightwing sat well place in a chair, his suit now having light up with blue lines as his hand connected firmly onto two joystick like handles, though he didn't appear to move them much, rather he just liked to hold them, "why hasn't he made any court appearances then...didn't the file say that the doctor was brought out on charges of being a pedlar?"

"Yes."

"So did he just disappear? Why haven't they brought him in yet?"

"I'll start searching the PD database."

"Is that sarcasm?" Nightwing asked with a bit of sarcasm on his own part.

"It's not exactly a difficult explanation to come to."

"Explain?" Todd said returning to a position of humble questioning.

"Doctor subscribes an abundance of drugs for a patient who is then told or blackmailed to redistribute the drug to appropriate customers."

"Yeah, but this guy really needed the drugs."

"All the more reason. Doctor's don't make much money these days, its not terribly uncommon for some to take some bribes from pharmaceutical companies, why not some other shady organizations?"

"I'm going to prove his innocence regardless then."

"That's not what we fight for!"

"Innocence by all accounts,"A sudden beeping noise came through Nightwing's communicator resulting in him to take his right hand off the joystick and grab hold of his ear through his cowl, "You going to turn that down?" he said with an understanding sternness.

"My connection to the PD is getting all kinds of calls throughout the city...there are real people that could use your help," pause in time seemed to occur as Todd found himself unable to form a proper argument, "There's been a call on a violent dispute, possibly drug related, in an apartment nearby. I'm putting the coordinates into the computer now."

"This is a case, let me work it!" Nightwing mustered up some gusto in his voice.

"Nightwing...this case is literally open and shut. People make stupid decisions and get caught up in things they ought best have left alone. All that's talking now for this client is money."

"I can prove innocence." he uttered back, "Are you going to help me?"

"You can't make that call, you haven't even met the man...wanting someone to be innocent doesn't make it so." Nightwing slumped back in his chair and let go of the two handles that he had so affectionately grabbed onto before with purpose, "follow through and assist the PD in the situation at hand, this is what we fight for."

"What do we really fight for anyway?"

* * *

"I've got the blue bird hovering on the building top."

"Got-cha." Nightwing firmly replied with a bit of glee as he dropped smoothly down the clean metal magnetic system of the elevator shaft and landed on the top of the conveying elevator box. Regaining his composure, Nightwing pulled from his belt a small black circular device which he took and placed it on a square three button control panel on the wall next to the smooth silver coloured doors; it was a standard addition to all modern elevators that allowed for personnel to find their way out when the system had lost power. Suddenly noises that could arise only from moment stun him, "woh-oh".

"What's happening?"

"It would appear I'm running low on time," he placed both his hands on the circular device as it started to glow up with ten blue buttons that formed a circle inside the device. He began to angrily mash the buttons one at a time using his fingers, "why can't I ever remember how to hack these things when they're needed," The conveyor cords started to move upwards and the box below which Nightwing relied on for his foundation started to shake, "Yes, yes, yes...I got it?" the silver doors immediately began to shake in unison with the box below, "what the...? agh!" Nightwing started to get furious, "what kind of door only opens one foot?" Nightwing quickly broke the circular device off the electrical panel and made his way through the one foot agonizingly pulling himself through as the elevator box below slowing began to push up on him. Nightwing began to find himself in another difficult spot when the elevator began to pick up speed but found that his legs were caught with almost less than a foot. A young couple stood inside the elevator and saw Todd hanging from above through the foot crack, "Hello!" he took the moment to smile and wave. The young couple's reaction as they held each other was a bit more mixed unable to fathom the situation they froze with their mouths open and facial expressions unchanging. "This had better work!" Nightwing immediately activated the jet boosters in his foots that propelled him forward with such force that he hit the ground in the hallway and bounced up into the wall breaking the small table there underneath a painting of a field of flowers, luckily, he managed to save the vase before it cracked on the ground, "ouu...I'm in. What room is it..." A sudden explosion of debris of a table through a door a few feet away made him startled resulting in him dropping the vase. He took a moment to look at the broken baby blue pieces of the vase and watching the water flow away from the clump of plaster and quickly staining the carpet, "Think I found it," Nightwing stood to attention with his fists prepared and his right leg forward ready to jump into battle.

"If that has anything to do with meta-humans, perhaps its best that you wait for proper back up."

"I can handle this," Nightwing began to run up to the door. Upon arrival, he leaned up against hallway wall outside of room nearest to the door into the room. He first took a good look at the debris of the wooden and glass table along with the door smashed up against the opposing wall which apparently had won the battle. He turned to take his attention on getting a good look inside raising his left hand to the inner trim of the door frame and pulling his head in a few inches to take a proper look, "Well, Proxy, you're not going to believe this..."

"Hooking up visual cam."

"Yes...this is real."

"She's just...dancing..."

"Looks like one of them girls in the sixties...just needs some flowers."

"She couldn't have caused all that damage," Nightwing turned his head to take a look at composite mass of door and table, "get in there and see what she knows, be cautious."

"Like there's an alternative?" Nightwing pulled his whole body forward and slowly walked forward to make his way to the girl who was twirling around on one leg while her hands waved randomly around an inner imaginary circle at varying speeds. Nightwing immediately assessed the room upon entering, seeing immediately to his left the kitchen with a counter that went full way around from the adjacent wall and near to the door segregating the area from the living room directly ahead of it which contained the girl; of curious note however was the large ceiling tiles above mixed in among other tiles that served as the apartment's lighting source. These tiles that stood out contained a series of fans that when articulated properly could be used to generate any absolute temperature. Making his way into the room, Nightwing noticed the broken furnishings as their reflection echoed in the wall size glass windows at the far edge of the living room. Finding the work place to appear relatively safe, Nightwing got up close the girl who stood nearly a head taller than himself, was dressed in white which immediately contrasted her darker tanned appearance but nicely suited her long free roaming blonde hair. He grabbed hold of her shoulders and attempted to steady her but she appeared to be in a very lucid state of mind as she continued with her smiling and rotating her head rapidly blinking her eye lids. After a minute of doing this Nightwing finally found himself able to open his mouth, "I don't know what to say."

"Ask her what's going on."

"I don't think she even notices that I'm here..."

Upon hearing his voice the girl raised her delicate hand and placed it on Nightwing's cheek and managed to steady her head to stare him in the eyes, "You must try this."

"Try what?"

Her eyes began to widen and her grin grew larger from ear to ear so that now her teeth glistened in the lighting, "What's behind you?"

Nightwing calmly let go of her and began to turn around where he became witness to a larger specimen of a human being who stood nearly three heads taller than himself, he was of dark tone, bald and wore a grin that began to frighten Nightwing on such an instinctual level that only three words could be found in his mind and arising in his mouth: "I must run." Nightwing started to pace himself by stepping backward as the man drew himself closer. Nightwing began to notice little intricacies about the man as he came closer, his eyes were shot, the pupils having turned black and the vessels becoming red, he steadied himself primarily on his right leg and dragged his left foot to follow at least an inch before he could raise it, and while the man's upper body appeared to be bulging through an orange muscle shirt, Nightwing quickly realized that the muscles were overextending possibly as a result of drug use, "Alright I've learnt all I need to know," Nightwing stated as he found himself backed up against the brown plaster wall which was by his own deduction was a part of the room prior to this particular couple moving in.

"What exactly?"

"He's human...plain human...probably hopped up on something good."

"Try communicating with him."

"Don't think we've got much in common at this point," Nightwing continued as he made his way slowly to the side closest to the door, he took a glance at the girl who had now found her reflection when she placed her hands on the window. She looked up into the skyline above the neighbouring apartment buildings started yelling something about stars, "Perhaps I can just tire him out or something...looks like he's burning up."

The man proceeded to grab a piece of the couch that had been broken up from the incidents that must have occurred, "I don't think he's quite drained yet," In a fit of rage the man tossed the couch piece at Nightwing who was already in mid dive to get near the side of the counter where he could plan his next move. The man yelled with a large gravelly voice and clasped his bald head. Now understanding his enemy, the man turned to face Nightwing who was now kneeling down beside the counter with the door some way behind him; he placed his hand up on the counter top and prepared to lift himself up. He stared down at the piece of couch which had caused a bit of a dent in the weak plaster wall, "perhaps it's best that you started moving again."

At this point it became plainly obvious to Nightwing that the man was preparing himself to charge: head down, arms bulged out, fists waiting to fire. "He may be drugged up, but he's only human," With the first step made towards him, Nightwing propelled himself up to the counter top and placing his left foot on the ledge performed a second jump that placed him over top of the beast of a man where he quickly latched onto one of the ceiling tiles and quickly went to work on pulling the panel down with a pocket laser built into his right index finger. The Man continued his charge but upon seeing the door way clear collapsed and placed his massive hand on the metal frame which was previously occupied by a door in order to prevent himself from going through into the apartment corridor. The Man returned to his menacing gaze as Nightwing entered his scope once more. Nightwing stood on the floor and had crossed his arms and tapped his left foot seemingly waiting for a particular moment to occur when suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning he found the girl had found him in her haze.

"Hello boy, want to play?"

Nightwing let out a small chuckle in shyness, but this quickly dissipated as he heard the rumbling of the large man's bare feet tear across the cheap linoleum floor. Turning, Nightwing believed he had found the right moment and clicked a button on his inner side of his extended right glove. This action produced a minor explosion in the roof above, Nightwing quickly pulled up a small capsule from the right side of utility belt and chucked it at the man who instinctively grabbed it. Realizing the moment had come, Nightwing took hold of the girl and dove towards the living room just as the upper panel, which contained the large heavy set fan, fell down and smashed the big brute under to the floor leaving him pinned with nary his head and a bit of shoulders free. The panel slumped won to the brutes left side away from the counter.

After placing the girl firmly back on her feet, Nightwing became surprised as she simply began to laugh and run around the room again. He immediately began to start searching for what they could have possibly taken, "I don't remember these being common symptoms of the most common drugs."

"There are plenty of new designer drugs created every day, it's just something you haven't encountered," Nightwing circled the broken couches hoping to find some samples in underneath or nearby, "Best you get moving, I've contacted drug control, they'll be able to handle it from here."

"Unless that drug happens to be 'Cirius'" Nightwing commented as he took a seat on a cushion that had been cut in three different places, the girl continued to float around him now believing she was an areoplane flying around him.

"What?"

"That's what the label says, there must be..." he paused to take a collection, "20 bottles of the stuff here. Why would they need so many?" he chucked the bottle he was carrying at the girl but it just bounced off of her as she laughed and started feeling the burning sensation on her nose caused by the bottle, "why not try testing the drug effects for high doses, perhaps the warning is something a little more than just an ordinary warning...doctor's orders."

"Alright."

"I'm going to the Doc's office, this dreg ain't going nowhere quick."

* * *

"Well this is place? Right?" Nightwing started as he hung tightly onto an outdoor window sill as he looked into an office space shrouded in darkness.

"He hasn't been in for months, seems to have left a lot of stuff behind."

"So this is the best we can do then, no home address?"

"Not one that hasn't been vacant for the last four months."

"hmm...when the charges were filed."

"It's difficult since a straight up conviction could very well take away his license to practice."

Nightwing, feeling the metal platforms that made up the sill of the otherwise plaster friendly building, scrolled himself down to face the window with the whole of his body and began to chip away at the slide strip on the bottom of the window managing to eke away an inch of the window; enough to slide his hands through and open it the full way, "So the doctors a dreg like everyone else."

"It's tough times."

"I'm inside."

"This is a waste of time, surely the doctor has been thoroughly investigated by now"

"There could still be something here...besides its tough times for police these days as well, probably gave up when they couldn't find him at his office," Nightwing got inside and proceeded to pull out a flashlight, "couldn't you guys have made better flashlights?"

"There's a light switch near the door."

"Awesome," Nightwing proceeded to flash the light towards the door wall where upon finding the switch decided it best to turn off and put away the flashlight thereby allowing him to more efficiently consult a higher electronic power. The lights began to slowly turn on, "What? Does Cassie write the town's electrical laws?"

"What?"

"Lights one hundred percent!" Nightwing exclaimed. He found himself in a small room with simple furniture and belongings; a desk, a filing cabinet and a chair, but nothing of particular noteworthy though it was unusual in its design for the door wall was straight but a fifth wall was put into existence when it was designed with a slanted wall immediately following the door. He quickly set to work on waking up the computer and browsing through the files by first pulling a rectangular device from his belt and locking into one of the slots built for the drive.

"I can take over from here."

"You know I happen to be very good at technology."

"I'm in."

"That's not fair," Nightwing leaned back on the swivel ball chair and did a quick twirl around, "well, did you find anything yet?"

"There's a whole database of drugs, Cirius isn't exactly highlighted...but there are a few emails."

"Let's break into them then no?" he drew himself close to the desk with a firm grasp of the edge of the steel black desktop.

"Typical then. He's financed by the company that produces Cirius."

"So the doctor's guilty then."

"Fair assessment, but the charge against your 'innocent' client is concerned with dealing not financial gain. Regardless, these Emails would be inadmissible since they were stolen."

"But if we could say these Emails happened to come across us."

"The case has been refiled six times, this attorney seems to really want this one. It's not exactly door shutter of information...if you want to really be of use you're going to have to find something more supportive, like the doctor."

A small noise could be heard in the background of the communicator, "What was that?" Nightwing piqued up as he made his way back to the window after successfully turning off the light, he took a look at the ground first analyzing the cement and an assortment of parked vehicles and the garden patches made of bushy trees and odd flower colours that made Norris Gross appear to be more environmentally friendly then it probably actually was.

"The testing has been complete."

"Excellent, what are its effects?"

"Oh...oh my...I've seen this drug before."

"What?" Todd quickly retorted his curiosity ever growing and he was prepared to make his leap from the window and retrace his steps to the roof. The words however began to fall apart as they came through the communicator, soon all vocal functions ceased as Nightwing began to feel a heavy sensation in the back of his head which he could not easily explain, "something hit me...", he attempted to turn and get a look at his assailant but instead found himself fluttering as a one of his wings retracted as he fell silently to the ground below just dodging a bushy tree of the happy garden surrounding the building and landing in a mound of bark mulch.


	3. Interval 1 Part 1

Interval #1  
Volume 1. Story 1.  
Yellow Lightning (Part 1)

_Chronology:  
__Pre-Young Justice #1  
__Pre-Nightwing #1_

* * *

"It's not life here...not for me."

"Will you come back some day."

"I don't know...who knows where I'll be now?"

* * *

The cold space platform, round circular pieces around a shaft of steal running up the centre, hovered above a small brown and green micro-planetoid known as Petrus, one of the deepest of human colonization projects. Space crafts of various sizes and origins arrived at the station regularly, today made no exception as though space seemed infinite in its scope, the traffic around the space station was certainly not.

"Flight FL1198 departing from Petrus 1 to Earth Station 7," the loud intercom reached throughout the large atrium of the station.

"It's time to leave," a young boy muttered to himself in a dry voice, "it's always been time to leave." The boy proceeded to zip up a thick red coat till the collar reached fully around his neck and extended to a less than often used hood. The boy clasped onto a small bag he had been carrying with himself for some time and then stood up from his seat and proceeded to make his way past the rows of chairs and the humanoids that were all busy with their own prerogatives so that he may see the planet which he had called home for much of his childhood. He got to the end of the giant waiting room atrium where the large windows took up much of the wall space. He stared quietly into the space and then at planet below that, from space, appeared like it was growing into a metal-sphere with all the advancements the human population had implemented, "time to get back to the real thing."

The boy walked into a metal corridor trailing and being followed by other humanoids who carried no less than he small bags. Like the others in front of him, when he came to the entrance way into the checking room, he encountered an automated security android that stood towering above him and was furnished in cobalt blue paint. While humanoid in shape, the automated security force had some differing, albeit lacking, characteristics to its humanoid makers; a small hole no bigger than a centimetre in the lower regions of its head and a slot that extended all around the head portion like a visor forever glowing with an unusual and frightening red which appeared account for its source of vision; the only features such a machine would ever require. The Machine opened its Steele arm to take the bag that the boy extended out to him. "Name and Arrival Location?" it uttered out in its distinct mechanical voice.

"Jace Allen. Earth."

* * *

Jace looked around the large gymnasium sized room that was intended to stand as museum dedicated to one of Earth's greatest heroes. Statues and boxes had been covered in synthetic blankets and were arranged in such disarray that Jace had difficulty imagining how people could have ever navigated themselves efficiently throughout the area and seeing all the exhibits, "I expected you'd be coming here sooner or later...thanks for the call."

"Yes," Jace responded turning his gaze from a particular covered square and looked at the elderly man who was making his way from the darkness of the large room over to him.

"It had been sometime since I had talked to your father..." he said with a heavy sigh and paused for a moment , watching as Jace's light brown eyes began to glow a bit with an inner sadness, "He was a good man." Now in the minimal light given from above, the man came into full focus; a tall man with large upper body which he covered adequately with a white jacket that extended down to his knees. The wrinkles of his face marked the endurance of age and experience while the pureness of his near silver hair signalled him as a man of wisdom, though never would he be found admitting such a claim. The man extended his hand to be shaken and Jace responded with immense pleasure hidden behind a crooked smile, "It's been sometime since then though, what have you been up too?"

"I was busy..." Jace said turning away and looking at the base of large covered box in front of them, "there was some things there I wanted to take care of...I didn't want to leave his memory behind," he pulled up the bag he had been carrying all the way from Petrus and after holding it for half a minute he handed it over to the elderly man, "This was one of his costumes...I'm not sure he ever wore it, but it was the only one I could find it still good condition...I never figured out how to get it back into the ring."

"What should I do with this," the man said as he pulled the zipper on the bag and pulled at the cloth from within. Finding there to be a costume of some sort, he pulled up the cowl and immediately came to recognize its origins.

"I was hoping that once you get this place started back up again you could set up a tribute...he deserves that much," Jace continued to stare at the large box in front of him.

"You know what's there don't you?" Jace turned his head to the man, "I've seen those eyes before, you've thought about using it."

"Yeah," Jace's voice jumped as he held back the tears, "I always knew it was here. Took me a long time to figure out how to break the paradoxes..."

"It shouldn't be used," the man's voice turned from its genial state to that of a stern and unforgiving man, "It's corrupted to many good people who have taken the mantle. One mistake..."

"Yes, and they all die," Jace stated as he let his head slide down to his chest, "I've done my reading carefully."

"Please think more on this."

"I have," he turned to man with a gaze of absolute intent, "It's my decision now isn't it."

"You know of the history as well as I do," the man responded with some shock.

"I'm the last of the Allen's," he continued his look at the man, "That's a statement of fact, what have I got to lose?" He turned to face the square box and placed his hand on the synthetic blanket scrunching it up a bit so as to attain a grip. He pulled away the blanket away and chucked it a few feet behind him. It sprawled out as he made his way close the glass surrounding the artefact in question, "The cosmic treadmill..." Jace stated in his apathetic tone. The man and Jace took a look at this rediscovering; a straight grey conveyer belt that sprouted from its base a thick rods that held in place a slanted bar that contained a great assortments of buttons and two handles jutting from its side that the user would take to holding on to when in use. All in all, it served the purpose of being a connection to the speed force, that magical realm that contained the source of the speedsters' abilities, allowing its users to run the belt of the conveyor resulting in the pushing of the speedster into the past, future and beyond, "I was always meant to come here."

"I'm very sorry that you feel that way."

Jace looked at the man and slumped his shoulders. A short minute passed, "its all I got." Jace pulled at the translucent hinges on the glass and attempted to pull the front panel glass, "You going to help me?" the man stuttered as he walked forward and assisted Jace in pulling down the glass panel, lowering it down and leaning it up against the platform that the treadmill stood on.

"It must be then. The time."

Jace zipped down his red jacket and laid it on the floor revealing a full body suit that held up a muscular appearance with white tints; a kind of cloth armour. His boots were big, black and well strapped to his feet which he kicked into the ground to ensure such definition. He jumped up onto the conveyor belt and grasped his hands around the control board handles taking his time in order to properly contemplate his next action. "Jace, tell me...can you save him?" Jace stared at the only man who would care but could not bring his head to nod in either direction. Unfathomable, he turned his focus back to the panel.

Powering it up, the boy place one foot after the other quickening his pace as the conveyor belt followed suit. He gently combed the museum once more with his eyes as it slowly began to fade away into bright lights; a mixture of yellow, blue and red arriving at his eyes from a source in the distance. His mouth slowly dropped open as he screamed a curdling scream as he took full flight through time with the cosmical device.

"It is time..." a thin whispery voice came from the light source. Jace continued to pound away at the belt as it lit up with lightning. Jace could not feel the strength to let go and cover his eyes as the source of light came closer and closer to him. He settled on closing his eyes and clenching his teeth enduring the pain, but less than a second later he felt there was a presence, a shadow towering over top of him, its feet standing on the control panel and arms open wide and pounce upon him. He clenched his hands tightly on the board handles as he opened his eyes with excruciating pain in order to see what stood above him, but before a capable look could be made out, he felt the sole of a boot kick with the force of a speeding semi-truck to the face. Jace's grounding on the conveyor broke as the force at such a high speed pushed him backwards onto the belt. With quick thinking, he attempted to grab hold of the turning wheel on its side of the treadmill, grasping with all his strength, he looked up to the figure; a tall muscular being wearing a yellow jumpsuit with cowl that emblazoned upon its chest a black lightning bolt. Jace went into shock as his grasp began to slip, finger to finger, till it was lost and he fell into the time stream created by the treadmill.

* * *

Jace got up slowly, his memory and senses acting unusual as a result from falling through the time vortex he had hoped would help him. "What happened," he muttered as his blurring of his vision steadily decreased. Standing up, Jace found himself to be in what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse; tall metal pillars reached to a ceiling three stories above and nothing but dirt possessed the magnitude of the open space in the giant box of a building. Analyzing the roof further he found there to be some small square foot windows evenly spaced around the circumference of the building just below the proper roof. In one such window he noticed a small creature prancing around the ledge, "a bird...haven't seen one in years..." his voice, cut and dry, was sore with every syllable.

Gathering up his strength, Jace trudged along to one end of the dark building towards what appeared to him to be a solid metal gate that reached to nearly the middle of the buildings height. Placing his hand on the gate, he could feel its wrinkly feeling and its weak dimensions; recognizing it as thin sheet metal, he proceeded to push hard at which point the old clips holding it in place gave way to the force and snapped. He watched breathlessly as the gate fall slowly as it was being cushioned by the air underneath it. Looking around outside, he found there to be much more modern metal fencing project built with wire that formed neat hexagonal patterns that extended nearly two metres high and extended around a zone perimeter of the ailing warehouse. Scanning the fencing, Jace noticed there to be another gate much more complex in design, two connected bars that extended a good distance and connected to a single pillar that could be used as a pivot for moving the gate to and fro; In any case, it was something that he could easily jump over.

When his the extent of his vision improved with incoming sunlight, He came to spy a rather large wooden plaque wedged into the ground by a a thin metal bar that was bent partially way down thereby causing the plaque to move somewhat freely in the wind. Needing anything information he could gather on where he was exactly, he pushed himself to pick up to his natural super speed racing to the sign jumping over the gate in the process.

Jace placed his hands on his knees as he attempted to catch his breath. He proceeded to wipe the sweat from his eyes as he took a look at the sign and analyzed the black writing, "condemned?" he started, confused at the situation he had just gotten himself in, "oh...the museum hasn't been built yet..." he became startled as his already shallow breathing began to speed up, "How far back have I gone?...or how much forward?" looking around at the external surrounding where he simply found there to be mounds of sand and some patches of grass throughout. Some distance beyond the box of a building was what appeared to be a large lake or a river, regardless of which, he had great difficulty in making out the structures that littered the area. He began to hear some noise of sand crumbling from behind him, turning he saw in the distance, beyond the mounds, the lifting of sand as if magically compelled to fly and then descend as slow as a feather. Though others would miss it, Jace's ability to see through into the Speedforce opened up his vision to make out two distinct figures as they made their trail of sand seemingly in pursuit of Jace who stood motionless believing he recognized the figures in absolute disbelief.

Jace noted that the first figure was a stride ahead of the other, he was a tall muscular man clad head to toe in the scarlet red that had made him famous while the other figure trailing behind was significantly smaller and wore a yellow suit that allowed his streaking read hair to escape into the air as he pounded the ground. The two came to an efficient stop in front of Jace blocking his view of the sun behind them.

The younger of the two became shocked upon seeing Jace who he proceeded to point at Jace and then grabbed onto the older man's shoulder to signify that something wasn't right. The man seemed to be unaffected by the situation, he simply placed his yellowed gloved hands on his waist and looking down at Jace with a nervous grin, "I assume you can tell me what happened?"

Jace looked up at the man noticing the lightning bolt ear pieces and boot holsters, but most importantly, Jace was impressed with the appearance of the proper Flash crest which held itself in a yellow circle with a white inside further exemplifying the virtue of the lightning bolt it displayed, "you're the Flash?" Jace said looking now across at the younger one whose face had become embroiled in puzzlement.

"Yes," the man responded with a serious, yet heroic, attitude, "What happened here?"

"No, no," Jace said as he pulled his hand to his eyes hoping this moment would shake him out of his current disposition. He fell to his knees feeling the sand realize the form of his knee prints "Which Flash...?" he paused to question.

"What do you mean?" the man peaked up, now bringing hand forward trying to steady Jace who appeared off balance, "Who are you?"

"What year is this?" Jace questioned as the younger of the Flash's stepped forward to take a serious look at the newcomer.

"It's 2005..." the younger stated.

Jace clasped his hands to the sides of his head, "oh..." he started as he grabbed hold of the Flash's hand to help himself up, "Barry!" he shot up, he took a look at the younger speedster seeing the red lightning bolt and the boys light green eyes, "Wally..." he stuttered to get out, "Oh this way to far back..."

"Who are you?" Wally, in his Kid flash uniform, questioned as he was getting closer.

Regaining his strength, Jace let out a big breath letting his quick reacting blood work away at his body, "I am..." he stuttered and paused, "Jace Allen, I am a part of your distant future..."

Kid Flash's jaw dropped as he could not bear to believe what was just said; however, in contrast to this, the genial Flash just smiled, "Welcome to your past. As much as I hate assumptions, I have to assume you have something to do with the recent activities in the Speed Force?"

"What...?" Jace said, his mouth opening but seemingly never coming to a close. After a moment of blinking and contemplation he thought up the proper words to use; "No..." he paused, "I was trying to stop it," he acted accordingly, "though, I'm not sure exactly what going on...what have you been feeling lately...?"

"Sick," Kid Flash firmly responded clenching his stomach, "feel likes something fierce is tearing me apart," the Flash's head turned from his distant relative to his young ward, "don't tell my I'm alone in this?"

"Come now," Flash said as he turned to Jace, "let's take care of this at home, are you good to run?"

"Of course," Jace responded with a smile, "been a while since I've had someone to run with," Jace's strength returned seemingly instantly as he got read to run.

Kid flash shot a glare of uncertainty towards his mentor, recognized but ignored, the Flash seemed to determine the boy to be worth their efforts, "Just follow."

* * *

"So this is where the Flash of the past takes his time off..." Jace said as he watched Flash pull his mask down from his face revealing the all to familiar features that they shared. Jace strode down hallway in procession of the back door at a normal speed while Wally, now too with his mask down, followed in from behind. The house was a quaint one story building, with nary more than two full rooms a kitchen space and a living room with two couches that looked like they had been worn in to.

"I don't require much..."Barry stated as he furiously returned his costume to its ring and calmly placed it around his finger, "please, come take a seat," he motioned to a table that stood just outside of the kitchen area. It was all very unusual a place for such man often claimed to be the Flash in the most proper of sense, everything was so simple, "So what happened?" Barry asked as he took a seat in one of the older fashioned wooden chairs that matched the decor, Wally and Jace followed suit taking to chairs on the adjacent sides to Barry. Wally, now dressed in a simple red shirt and well-worn jeans continued to stare long and hard at the new boy in the house, a fact that began to make Jace feel uncomfortable.

"I was using the treadmill from my time..." Jace attempted to started.

"I noticed," Barry interjected.

"How?" Jace shot as Wally also shared in this realization.

Barry took a deep breath and stared blankly at the empty wall ahead of him, "I could feel it...I think we all can..."

"Who are? Us?" Wally asked bringing a fist to the table.

"Everyone," Barry continued still seeing nothing but the blank wall, "everyone whose touched the Speed Force..."

"In every time," Jace completed his thought, "Every second of your existence, of every speedsters existence is dying."

"Someone's breaking a paradox," Barry explained as he took the time to get eye contact with the young boys at his table, "many worlds are being formed, an infinite amount, one for every second of our existence in which the end result is death. The treadmill has been abused."

"But who?" Wally interjected, "the only people that could be using the treadmill are us."

"Yes, Wally," Barry replied, "In our time this is true, but the future is as predictable just as it is unpredictable...perhaps someone down the line, our distant ancestors are up to less than what they should be doing," Jace began to frown as he began to fade back into thoughts of his destined mission.

"But Barry," Wally continued, "I thought we'd, I mean our 'descendants', would certainly know better than to create some killing paradox."

"A tragedy can change everything..." Barry replied in a solemn voice.

"What is this paradox?" Wally asked once more.

"What does it matter?" Jace replied becoming uncomfortable in Barry's presence.

"If this thing is killing speedsters, you know I happen to be one!" Wally stated eyes wide open and waving his hand with intent.

"You don't get it," Jace responded while placing his hands on the edge of the table, "It's not just here that your dying...if whoever is causing happens to fail in their self-righteous mission," he frowned, "then your existence for every second becomes distinguished into multiple worlds...you're not dying once, your dying every moment of your existence," Wally fell back into his chair feeling the rumbling in his stomach begin to reach up to his chest.

"What do you need Jace?" Barry asked turning his attention to the new boy, his fated descendant.

"I need a treadmill to use," Jace responded with strong affirmation.

"What happened to one you were using? Isn't that how you got here?" Barry asked.

Jace sat quietly for a few seconds staring blankly at the one person who could help him, "I misjudged my intervals," Jace sternly responded, "It was lost it in the vortex...the person I encountered kicked me off of it..." Jace stated intending not to lie completely.

"Alright," Barry nodded his head and pushed himself in his chair away from the table, "It's at the museum."

"What no? Wasn't...?" Jace stuttered in getting his questions straight, "There's a museum?"

"Well more like a dedication or tribute..." Wally stated as he too stood up from his chair.

"Barry!" a voice shouted as the door close, a woman in a big coat that reached down to her knees came forward and caught the men as they stood on the line between the kitchen's dining area and adjacent living room, "You two are needed at the rail station..." her words trailed off. She shook her hair wiping around the brown streaks of hair that flew across her vision, seeing Jace standing with the two she fell into a sarcastic grin, "lost child?"

"What? No Iris..." Barry responded showing his palms by his side. Smiling he motioned for Jace to come forward, "This is a future comrade of ours, he's come back to help the tear in the Speed Force that's consuming us."

"He's..." Iris stood up stiff as a board, "He can get you guys free. He's so young," he trailed off.

"We hope so," Barry responded with calmness and looking across to Jace, "What's the problem."

"They're calling you out..."

"Me? Who...?"

"Who else...The Rogues...!" she flew her hands up wildly.

"What do they want now...?" Wally said sarcastically as he pulled up the ring finger and proceeded to click the ledge to release the contained costume.

Barry turned to Jace, "Well, it is time travel...I think we can handle the immediate vibrations for another hour, Jace you had much combat experience?"

"I've had some intense training," he shrugged off knowing better.

"You got a uniform?" Barry asked concerned about Jace's current attire.

"Yeah, that under armour ain't fooling anyone." Wally said as he the speed of him turning getting into his costume caused a mini-cyclone that raised some excess dust from the floor.

"Under what?" Jace responded.

"I'm sure Wally's got that spare suit we started him out with," Barry nodded for Kid Flash to get the ring which he reluctantly complied with. Within mere seconds Kid Flash returned with a somewhat larger ring than the one he himself carried. He extended his hand and dropped it into Jace's. He held it in his hand analyzing it carefully becoming excited upon feeling the raised lightning symbol in the circular top of the ring, "Just hold it down and suit up."

* * *

Ice had shifted itself up and down the ledges of the stone built railway and extended to a fused metal and glass dome connected to it which contained the civilian loading centre for the long distance travelling trains. The electronic railway carts had frozen up in ice spikes at the front while a man in a orange jumpsuit and green helmet paraded inside the reflecting panels the ice created, "I'm bored," a colourful costumed character stated as he stood on the station floor looking around the glass dome which had fogged over with the cold generated atmosphere. He proceeded to pull out two duck shaped explosive devices from his long purple jacket and shook around his orange, black checkered pants and prepared for a toss but became startled by the noise of energy firing off. Fixing his black domino mask, he looked up at a white full suited individual standing next to a man in a blue parka at the top an ice mound that formed up in the centre area of the dome encompassing the train rails, "Is he coming or what?"

"Patience," the drawled voice of the man in the parka responded. He pulled up a white gun shaped item from his belt and proceeded to aim it down at the at the gateway that the trains normally take to exit from.. Upon sliding down on the triggers a burst of near invisible waves made their way in that directions and produces a circular shaped wall of ice blocking that entrance way. An eruption occurred above through the glass ceiling as man in a green jumpsuit with a collar that extended up around his ears proceeded to glide down as lighting protruded from a small steel rod with a ball at the end of it firmly grasped in his hand, "Excellent, Weather Wizard," the man continued, "Have you gotten what we needed?"

"Sure, thing Captain Cold," Weather wizard stated as he took a stance on the mound of ice with his fellow rogues. He proceeded to pull from his pocket a black square no bigger than an average wallet and handed it to the open white gloved palm of Captain Cold.

"So what's it do?" the man in white peaked up as he raised his yellow gun up just like Captain cold had done.

"Exactly what I want it to do Heat Wave," Cold clicked a metal button on the black box and pulled from inside a green computer chip with small wires that extended on all sides, "Mirror Master!" he shouted. Instantly the man dancing around in the reflections of the ice made an appearance from the reflection created from the smooth ice they were standing on. The man came up to his waist, keeping his legs in the mystical mirror world, and with a smile handed to Captain Cold a larger gun that sported a blue circular tube with a red light in the centre. Captain Cold picked it up and proceeded to press a square button the side of the tube like gun. The other Rogues watched as a side panel fell down and the Captain placed the chip inside, "That'll teach them to be stealing technology from me!" he said coldly easing himself into his less than happy attitude.

"He's coming." Weather Wizard said as he began to float upwards again raising his weather rod in his hand to the sun that shined through the broken glass of the dome. He proceeded to call upon more thunder from his rod and almost instantaneously the sun came to a close behind a thick sheet of clouds dropping the temperature to what others in the city who weren't rogues would consider unliveable.

"The Trickster is ready!" the colourful costumed character noted to his companions as he started to laugh and throw the duck bombs at the ice beams watching them collapse into the stone cold floor of the train station.

* * *

"So that's Captain Cold?" Jace said suspiciously now wearing a smaller version of the flash costume, yellow streaking boots and all, that Jace believed would give him at least some emotional strength if not any physical protection. He along with the Flash and his partner leaned up against a booth that was positioned on a balcony overhanging the river. Within view was behind the booth was the train station which looked now more like a snow globe with large shards of ice protruding through nearly every window, and all windows that were intact seemed to become blended into the metal and stone that compromised the infrastructure of the building.

"What did you expect?" Kid Flash responded attempting to convey a seriousness that his mentor would respect.

"No, it's just the Captain Cold of my time was dictator of most of Antarctica...I've never even heard of the Rogues."

"Alright, we need to stay focused," Flash started to command coming out of the cover of the booth to look more at the building, "We're not sure what they're planning if anything, so we need to approach this cautiously and get some answers quick. We'll assess the situation after they spill."

"How do you achieve that?" Jace asked questioning the proposition of quick answers.

"We're going to go in and ask," Flash shrugged as Kid Flash quickly followed him as they walked towards the glass snow globe connected to the breaking stone structure of the train offices.

"I don't understand," Jace stepped out of cover from the booth, "Couldn't they kill you?" he pleaded.

"The Rogues don't like killing," Kid Flash turned around to face Jace as he continued to move in the direction behind Flash, "They'd have to catch us first. They want us to come here to show them their place!"

"Jace, hold back though, if things get out of hand we'll be expecting you to give us a hand." The two established heroes walked up to the snowed up glass and both placed their hands on it, after a quick nod to one another their hands began to move at incredible speeds. Within a few seconds the glass and ice began to give away along with the heroes bodies as they seemed to move into the ice sphere engulfed into the unknown prison of matter.

"What now?" Jace asked.

* * *

"Hello Gentlemen" Flash announced as he appeared walking through the door of the furnished stone complex to the left of the established ice mound dedicated to the Rogues. He took further steps accessing his enemies once again, "glad to see your all free again, life in this city was getting boring."

"Tell me about it!" Trickster launched into a snarling laugh and proceeded to pull two more duck grenades from his seemingly endless inside jacket pocket. A little tapping of his shoes caused some electrodes surrounding them resulting in the Trickster hovering higher and higher with his laugh becoming ever more serious with its sadistic nature.

"Flash," Captain Cold stated with an unhinged glee, "You have come," he turned the tube gun towards the scarlet speedster as Weather Wizard and Heat Wave dispersed themselves from the mound sliding down its ledges to get to the ground of the train station, "But where be your allies?"

Without warning, Heat Wave found himself hurdling up against the back wall breaking the tiles that lined it and falling to the floor moaning, "Here I am," Kid Flash said with pride as he made his appearance in a running stance next to his mentor.

"Pity," Cold mumbled under his breath watching the fog emit from his breath and dissipate into the air.

* * *

A loud sonic boom seemingly emitted from the ice dome sending a chill down Jace's ear canal till it hit the drum thereby beginning an unimaginable ringing sound that made the large beam of blue circular light shooting up through the iced roof seem to be of an absolute silence despite the clashing of icicles and falling chunks of metal and glass that would surely make assorted noises. Jace fell to his knees and propped his chest up with his hands while little shavings of ice from the beam residue fell all around him and littered the ground. His neck seemingly cracked with every press upward as he attempted to get back on his feet and recover. His teeth clenched up with pain as he slid his legs into a starting position ready to run in and help.

At the quickest speed he could bring to the game, Jace propelled himself past the deck view and towards the stone wall; with nary a thought he vibrated his molecules at an extreme velocity and engulfed himself into the wall getting into the inner sanatorium of the station. He placed his speed on pause regaining his form and turning to face the short but widening view the hallway gave him of the atrium where the Rogues have made themselves masters. Captain Cold, standing high on his peak made the attempt to re-arm his new weapon while the two heroic speedsters were attempting to regain their balance after managing to prevent the beam from coming in contact with them.

A horrible expression crept onto Jace's face as he saw the heroes begin to move rapidly in a single place, the Flash now trying to stand up looked ambiguously at his hand as it moved with such speed that it appeared that it was not moving at all; however, the quilted red lightning that engulfed his hand betrayed the fear in his eyes. Kid Flash was unable to stand, they were both dying. The Rogues stood around them baffled, while Captain Cold prepared to fire his weapon upon the two from above, Jace attempted to yell and make the move to save but every step he made seemed to slow down. Soon, he saw there to be a source of light in the distance that was coming closer, the mixing of yellow with blue and red lightning broke into Jace's eyes forcing to give away tears. Soon the figures and the background of the train station began to fall apart, taken up by the light, The Flash and his partner began to form into the matching lightning colours of their costume as Jace found himself moving closer towards them along with the light source; he knew where he was but didn't know how. The two heroes disappeared behind him, but Jace had no strength to look back.

"You are safe..." the whispering voice arrived to him from the distance, "they will need you to save them."

"Noooooooo!" Jace shouted as the light source became a pure colour of white energy that phased into him and then released him back into the world outside the Speed Force. Unable to slow himself down, Jace fell to his stomach and let friction take action as he flew across a cement surface and finally came to a crash against a train box with his back nearly causing a rupture of the metal container.

Jace took a look back up from the small crater in the ground he had created; the costume he had been given had been shredded up and he was beginning to feel the pains where the fabric had given way. He let out a groan as he pulled away the sleeve that had wrapped itself tightly around an open wound. "I'm alive..." he stated softly trying to get a lump out of his throat. He leaned back against the crate and attempted to get some rest allowing the nature of his quick reacting body do the work in reviving him to a more proper condition.

* * *

Hours must have passed; he did not remember it being so dark when he had first arrived. Noticing the tear in his arm had healed sufficiently, he decided to try to stand up and figure out where he was. Immediately began to recognize that he was once again at the train station looking back towards the dome that was formerly covered in the vicious ice. "It's different...it's changed." he said as he came to recognize that the station had been converted into some sort of supplies loading dock, the deck facing the river having seemingly been deserted of chairs, tables and people for years, behind him were endless rows of other train carts waiting to be loaded upon the arriving trains. He started breathing rapidly, "Its quickening up...this is a different world...everyone's going die..." he began knowing full well of his situation but could not stand being alone through it all again, "What year is this...?"

Jace dusted his leggings down and tore off the torn cowl. He combed his hair with his hand gently and followed up by rubbing his left eye where he felt a sore, "not everything healed up then," he groaned once more as propped himself on his feet and took some steps towards the station. Looking in both directions, he came to choose to follow the tracks to the left side where he believed the trains normally arrived from, "how do I get out of here...?"

"You there!" a soft female voice echoed in the distance.

Jace attempted to turn around to face his questioner but found his foot caught up in the inner railing of an outer track causing him to fumble but before he could hit the ground he found himself embraced by thin gloved hands and being pulled up to his feet, "Let's get you some rest." Upon hearing such words of reassurance, his mind slipped away into a hazy state where unconsciousness soon followed.

* * *

"He's an Allen."

"How can you tell."

"He just...he looks like one...that's the best I can do, been sometime since we've seen one, not since Bart ran off."

"Did he say anything?"

"He just passed out when I found him, just need to give him more time. He possesses the Speed Force still...we need to ask him how."

"Did you figure out who told you how to find him?"

"No...can you keep an eye on him?"

"No prob sis, you can always rely on me."

Jace felt himself roll around on top of a large cushion, a thick coating, which he imagined to be a blanket was wrapped over top of him. He was stunned by this at first, but after regaining some basic senses, he pushed the covers away and sat up. He found there to be only one source of light, a long strip that seemed to start from the floor and work its way up to a definitive end; a door had been left slightly ajar.

He could finally feel the strength in his body, pulling himself to the edge of the cushion which he came to understand now as a mattress. He let his legs plop onto the floor, realizing now that he had been stripped down to his under shorts, but was thankful when he found that his black flex shirt had been retained. Standing up, he walked slowly towards the light of the door, his toes soaking in the smooth wood panelled floor. Placing his hand on the edge of the door he pulled it towards himself to and quickly pulled his right arm to his eyes to block out the light in the hallways ahead of the door.

Jace was startled to see two sets up eyes set upon him. A adequately tall muscular young man with jet black hair and thin eyes kept his mouth open as he leaned against a pale blue bar counter with an apple on hand waiting to be eaten. On the other side of the counter and obscured by the hallway wall stood a tall woman, not much older looking than the boy, who had fiery red hair and wide green coloured eyes. She was of the two, the most confused by the appearance of Jace as he found his way out of the room.

"Hello...?" the man said as he proceeded to take a bite of the apple and wave manically with his free hand.

The girl shook her head in displeasure of her brother as she placed bother her hands on the edge of the counter and pulled herself closer to him. She turned to face Jace and walked around the counter ledge to get closer to take a better look at him now that he was awake. Though he considered himself to be a taller than most people his age, he came to the acceptance that the girl coming towards him was always going to outrank him in height. She wore a tight pair of black dress pants that tucked well into the large four strapped black boots that she managed to make work in matching with a near orange blouse with a sharp collar that was cuffed up around her neck rather than properly tucked down. Jace however found the leather jacket to be the most interesting as she pulled the two sides together as she leaned a bit down, exemplifying her stature, to get the attention of his eyes, "what's your name?" she asked quickly and softly.

Jace could only stare at her deep seeded green eyes that he felt he had seen before more recently and immediately drew conclusions to whom she was but acknowledged that a response may be better suited so long as he avoided questions regarding the future, "Jace..."

"Allen right?" the young man in the background yelled out as the apple was being withered down to the core.

"Yeah... you know who I am?"

"Somewhat, your much younger..." the girl responded, her voice trailing off as she stood up straight and turned to look at her brother who attempted to toss the core towards a waste basket some place in the back of the kitchen area, "do you remember anything that happened?"

"Here and there..." Jace started but couldn't focus, "not much, just the lights."

"Alright, that's OK," she said with the most reassuring voice, Jace confirming his logical deductions from having heard her voice at the station, "just relax for a bit while I try to sort this out."

"Who are you guys?" Jace asked with unnoticeable act which saw the answers as unneeded.

The girl looked back her brother who was now ready to approach Jace all muscled up and ready to impress his perception of living on the boy, "My name is Iris," she said turning her attention back onto Jace.

"And I'm Jai," he said as he came up close near shoulder to shoulder with his sister, "Sorry about all the arrangements, there's a few room in this old house and I'm just not certain on what to do with them yet..." he paused to gather Jace's look, "did you like the blanket?...I got it-" His sister elbowed him in the stomach.

"No one cares," she said sharply.

"You know," Jace started up with sincerity, "I'd really like to know where I am...what year is this?"

The two looked at one another as if they always needed to reach an agreement with one another, "You're at the West's house; Its 2045." Jace shook his head as he placed his fist on the nearby wall to steady himself, "What's wrong?" She asked.

"Sorry, it's only been a few years since..."

"Since what?"

"Well," Jace aimed his head down and noted the white linoleum floor and turning side to side seeing the offset yellow walls decorated with a few pictures which he still found to be fuzzy either because the entirety of his vision had not returned or the photos themselves were actually paintings made to look that way. "I suppose since I was running around with your father...right? when he was around my age."

Iris's face lit up with a mix of excitement and shock, but her brother went in the complete opposite direction, "Awesome."

"Is he still around...perhaps he remembers me..." Jace looked up with his bare right arm still clutched around the top of his head

Iris's head fell as Jai looked away, "he hasn't been around for years..." he stated, "he's just," she nodded, "gone."

"But that's OK alright," Iris stated as she seemed to be controlling some inner emotions, "there is still his legacy for us to uphold."

"Yes," Jace said recognizing their mutual emotional disease as his hand fell down to his side and he looked at their similar facial expressions, "I'm sorry..." he muttered quietly. He looked up at the two suddenly with his senses coming back to him all at once, "I need a the treadmill..." he breathed deeply.

Iris looked at him uncertain of what Jace had stated, "time travel..." she nodded.

"Everyone's dying..." Jace looked down and muttered swaying his head from side to side, "I have to finish what I started."

"So why don't you take a seat and tell us all about yourself," Jai stated as he consciously worked towards a happier mood in near ignorance of what had just been spoken. He raised his hand and directed the young boy down the hallway.

"I don't know if I have the time..." Jace started.

"Nonsense," Jai stated with a comical grin, "It's time travel right? I'm sure we can survive an hour."

"Sure," he said as he walked by Iris who never let her gaze fall away from him. He came to the bar counter where he noticed that small kitchen area was present just behind it; however, turning around he saw a connected room with glass walls and a sliding door going out, "hot tub," Jace said quietly to himself. He continued to follow Jai turning around the kitchen area and into a cumbersome living room space decked out with some of the finest classical furnishings that Jace had ever seen. The wooden panels that compromised the floor were unscratched from use and well coated with wax, the green couches formed an efficient square around an inner fire place that reached to the ceiling and beyond only the fire aspect had been replaced with a television box. Cabinets stood around the outside offset red wall paper and possessed precious plants and carried on top of them photos of family and loved ones.

"Ahh..." Jai sighed, "I don't know why, but I've always been sort of big on house decor!" he shouted with pride as he ran up to the black sofa table immediately preceding the back of the three cushioned couch itself which he easily jumped over and landed neatly on the centre cushion, "if you stay long, you better get used to it." He shot a stare back at a puzzled Jace, who in turn, watched Iris smile as she crossed the floor to meet up with her brother, instead of jumping however she took the more civil route of taking a step down to the lower floor and took a seat on the couch next to her brother.

Jace sat on a single cushion couch immediately adjacent to the two siblings, "you guys have a connection to the Speed Force also?" Jace beckoned, "is that possible," he muttered looking away from them.

Jai rolled his eyes and looked away but Iris was ready to speak up, "Indeed," Jace turned to reface her, "though things seem to be rocky as of late."

"What do you mean...?" Jace quickly shot back.

"For some reason our link to the force was severed...I didn't know why at the time but then someone who referred to himself as a friend..."

"A friend..." Jace mumbled to himself.

"He told me that there's been some disruption, he gave to me some of his own speed which I've been having difficulty using, it's not as quick as what I'm used to," Jai continued to nod his head while Iris continued her explanation, "Jai choose to let his connection go so that there wouldn't have to be sharing between us. The strain on this 'friend' was strong enough as is," she turned to Jai and placed her hand on her brother as a reassuring gesture, "some of us make sacrifices" she turned back to Jace "till he says all the issues in the Speed Force had been settled, we have to make due."

"You have any idea who this person was?"

"No," the two looked at one another again, "We were hoping you would know since he came back to tell me where you were."

Jace once again decided to cloud himself in an act, "when I was with Wally and Barry,"

"Barry?" Jai shot up in his seat.

"Yes," Jace continued, "it appeared that they were being affected by some disturbance in the Speed Force...did you guys not get any of that?"

"Well, I'm not sure; the man said we were needed for a 'control'?"

"Control?" she nodded with mutual confusion, "well, you guys must have been thinking up something...do you have any leads on this mysterious man."

"Dad," Jai said as he kept his head lowered.

Iris nodded also, "he was a real hero; if there's a problem I think he'll be doing all that he can to fix it," she breathed deeply followed by a sigh.

"When I first got myself involved in events I was using a cosmic treadmill," Jace paused as he waited for their attention to draw back memories. He stood up and quickly took to pacing back and forth on the floor behind the couch forcing the siblings to turn their heads, "if you guys weren't affected, it could only mean the that the 'control' is in absence to the experiment...what experiment," Jace stopped and nodded to himself affirming his deduction, "I should leave," he turned to face him, "Its necessary that I finish this,"

"Finish what?" Jai asked with enthusiasm.

"I can't tell you." Jace nodded with dissatisfaction.

"What do you need," Iris leaned forward and looked sharply into the boys eyes.

"A treadmill!" He breathed deeply, "you guys wouldn't happen to have one in your possession?"

* * *

"We've been keeping it at the lab for safe keeping. We've had a few too many enemies over years who were able to manipulate it for use," Iris explained.

"What labs?"

"XS labs, my father started it to study the Speed Force more carefully."

Jace smoothed out the uncomfortable baggy brown pants he was given as he took a look at his surroundings. Night time had arisen when Iris and Jace had made their quick run to the facility. The two were standing in front of a two story white structure with a red painted trim near the square off roof that easily moulded into the 'XS' logo on the corner. Jace seemed quite impressed recognizing the necessity of such a lab; however, he became notably upset when he found, just as it was becoming on Petrus, all plant life had been restricted to squared off sections. "What's wrong?" Iris asked.

"I have this thing about plants..." he shook his head, "just hate it when it's all been corporatized."

Iris led as Jace followed suit coming to a set of four glass doors, two bunched together with a pillar in between. The doors lack any handles with which to pull on, nor did it seem to possess any sensors since Jace, despite in close proximity, became visibly upset when the doors wouldn't open on the command of his motion in front of it. Jace attempted to see through the doors but found that they were embedded with some fog like texture that made any form of viewing impossible. Jace turned to face Iris who had produced a wallet from her pants pocket. She flipped open one side and place the wallet up against a glass bubble on the control panel that was placed in the centre of the segregating pillar. "You sound a lot like Jai, he's not a big fan of the metal and glass architecture that he claims has taken over the 'livelihood' of the world." Pulling the wallet down, she pressed a large blue button just below glass bubble and almost immediately afterwards the opposite door of the one Jace was standing nearby slid open. "We don't work much on weekends so things around here have been pretty quiet," she said as Jace watched her walk into the darkened area beyond the door. Jace follow through, "lights eighty five percent," she exclaimed as she seemed to disappear into the blackness.

The panels of lights above began to give off their energy as Jace started to build his assessment of the lab. "So I guess Jai doesn't work here?" Jace stated as he noticed that the two of them were standing in a large square of foot sized windows that extended upward one story but with an open roof; it was from inside this box that he could see the rest of the lab save for behind a large white pillar in the back with a door on at the front of it. Iris started walking towards the exit door at the front of the box and pushed her way into the main lab which Jace found to be highly unusual for this time frame in human history; though one side contained cabinets and desks with flat panel computers on a consistent cycle, what took his attention mostly was the technology seemingly being dissected in all corners of the lab area: a large circular device in need of power, an assortment of electronic gun like weapons waiting to be put into service, and an endless wall of posted up blue prints and plans for not only the mechanical objects but also of the physiology of a speedster, "where did all of this come from?" Jace said with some shock.

"Throughout my father's travels we've managed to come across a great assortment of items that have yet..." she paused, "to be understood, perhaps if you stay long enough you could help us out, you must be knowledgeable of some of this stuff in your century?"

"A bit," Jace stated as he started to recognize some of the items, more specifically an open metal box that contained a neon blue circular tube in its centre; it appeared to be working progress . He looked across the doorway that led outside of the window-cube to see Iris working on opening the door into the white pillar, "treadmill?" he stated.

"Through here," she opened the door and motioned for him to follow.

Inside the white pillar was a different ordeal since, a large gymnasium like room extended to heights and lengths that one might find unfathomable from the appearance from outside. The walls stood as a testament to cleanliness holding to the white hue without a single discrepancy. To Jace's right he could see several large wheels, edge to edge, that extended upward a near three stories. Upon further inspection, Jace noted the wheels to be compromised of mostly metal plates connected together in a large structure with a inner tract on the inside, "we've been attempting to build an energy converter that can turn our speed into electrodes; preliminary exercises has proved promising," Iris conveyed with a assuring smile. Jace turned to right, viewing other various machines in the process, and came upon a series of familiar glass doors with the fog like texture, "we have one through the first door," Iris led him towards one.

She pressed down on the glass half dome which signalled the door to follow suit in opening inward. As the two stepped inside they came to the rediscovery of a treadmill like device facing towards then encased inside a giant green tinted bubble placed on a square platform raise a near metre above them, "we have yet to really play around with it," Iris said placing her hands on her waist, "my father already-"

"Wrote the book," Jace interrupted and gathered her attention, "first thing I read when I got on the thing. But why does this one look so different?" Jace asked when he saw the treadmill to be now purple in colour and seemingly a lot more simpler in design possessing three circular prongs, two at the front and one at the back that hold the treadmill safely in a level state on whatever foundations were given.

"The first one that Barry built was lost in time," Iris responded, "But my father was never satisfied with the first one anyway, had to rebuild his own...took him a few tries and a few years. The thing is we know enough about its uses to know better than to ever use it."

"I know it..." Jace stated with uncertain breath. He drew in closer to the device slightly above him and placed his hand on the bubble feeling its smoothness, "I need to use it."

"Not sure that's so wise," Iris's breath became shallow. She stared sternly at the boy who returned the look raising his head and nodding it back with a crooked sceptics appearance.

"Why not?" Jace shot out bowing his head down and recognizing her shallow state.

"The Speed Force is tearing itself apart Jace," she paused and then nodded her head, "I don't even understand how you've managed to retain your abilities."

"This has something to do with me," he responded, "Obviously, I'm here because its necessary that I come to place that's unaffected!" he grew stern.

"It's being worked out," she said with an unhinged calmness.

"The Speed Force is being torn apart!" Jace responded turning to face her with open eyes, "I have to do something while I still can. Now is the time to strike!" he shot his fist at the ground. Iris appeared stunned, "Thank you..." Jace stated slowly, "but there is something I have to complete and I can't let it end like this." Jace immediately began to shake his molecules at a sufficient speed to break through the bubble and towards the treadmill, "If I come through this fine..."

"You better." Iris said looking up at him, "there are things I want to know..." she trailed off ambiguously.

"I'll return here..." Jace got up on top of the conveyor belt and took a look at the control panel recognizing its many similarities to that of the one in his own time. Pressing down on the centre button he put the treadmill into gear as he started to heat the belt up coercing it to move on its own. A slow walk turned into a light job, and that in turn became a quickened run as Jace began to go into full gear with his molecules bouncing around in unison with the machine watching as Iris and the white walled world all around him began to disappear; he knew where he wanted to go.

In full movement, the bright source of light reappeared in the distance shooting from it the red and blue lightning that Jace had become accustomed to witnessing and since now being more prepared, he regulated the intervals of his moving molecules to regulate the pain so that now he could see with an open mind the generations that were passing him by.

Things went wrong though when Jace felt his legs freeze up; the treadmill had stopped moving. It was no more than a millisecond later that Jace felt the force of his speed carry him over top of the control handles of the treadmill falling face first into the source of light that once more engulfed him.

"Why?" Jace heard himself think and speak in unison.

"No," the whispered voice returned, "I ask such things."

"What's happening?" Jace could no longer feel his body, unable to turn his head to look around, he had found he had become a creature of consciousness, "What have you done!" he exclaimed with his mind once more.

"You've started this," the voice continued, "now you must finish it..."

* * *

Jace sat up, finding himself in intersecting streets that were devoid of people and vehicles. He looked above and saw the classic stone building carvings and the electric dome above that covered the sky with green hexagonal shapes, "This is it, the twenty-eighth century...home," he said startled as he found the strength to stand, "Where are all the people...Dad!" he exclaimed as he stared down the endless streets with the classically simple geometric shapes that made the architecture akin to his time; all colours unusually beginning to become dim.

"Not quite," a deep booming voice came through. A circular sphere of energy containing lighting appeared in the middle of the intersecting streets forcing Jace to step back as he watched the lightning burst from the centre. Soon he was able to make out a figure.

"My treadmill!" Jace shouted as he intended to get closer to the blurry yellow figure making its appearance in the storm of lighting standing on top of the grey tainted treadmill from Jace's time, "What have you done?" Jace mumbled in a hushed tone.

"You're asking the wrong questions," the boom returned as the yellow figure came to a solid and stepped onto the ground. Recognizing now the entity as wearing a variation of the Flash costume but the colour scheme was seemingly reversed, the bolt emblem becoming black with his goggles holding a the darkened pure hue with red lines horizontally cutting it them in half giving him a menacing appearance without any emotive declaratives. He smiled affectionately as he saw the confused Jace.

"No...NO!," Jace said as he approached the man, "You've ruined everything! What have you done?"

"No..." the man responded as he stood waiting for Jace to approach him fully, "we have done this!"

"We?" Jace fell back.

"Well, I, in a manner of speaking." the man proceeded to pull back his mask revealing his strong similar features: short blonde hair, shady blue eyes and an unmistakable grin. He looked down at Jace keeping one foot on the treadmill. It didn't take long for Jace to realize who the man was: the reflection of himself, to the future, "It's not life here...not for me."


	4. Iota 1 Part 1

Iota #1  
Volume 1. Story 1.  
The Colour of Death is Yellow (Part 1)

_Chronology:  
__Pre-Young Justice #1_

* * *

The pattering of quick footsteps down the brick patterned resulted in the casting of heavy noises and long shadows deceiving whomever might view come in view of the source. "Kids they say," the lean young man stated as he took the forward stride out of the alleyway and onto a small street that caressed a portion of free earth that contained an endless assortment of vehicles behind an octagonal patterned fence, "we can cut through the fence into the fair's parking lot."

"How can we get there from the parking lot?" a voice chimed in from a smaller shadow in the distance till it became whole showcasing a younger looking teen who capably maintained the clearness of the blonde hair he was born with.

"It's too difficult to get into the garage head on," the evident leader responded, cool cut in a waist length black jacket that whipped around as he turned to look at his comrades, "we can make it easier from the fair parking lot by sneaking into theirs...no security, just fencing," he smirked as he took a look ahead seeing the fair in the far distance ahead of the dust bowl parking lot, "the code should work the garage doors, but we can't be pushing our luck on anything else."

Another boy popped his head out of the alley way and became fascinated by it; rides decked to the highest peak with flashing lights, the cheering of people in distance satisfied with what lay before them, and an endless array of entertainment showcasing boundless will of the human artist. He felt a small shove from behind as the last remaining boy, a roundish one who by all accounts seemed new to game, ran into him blindly trying to exit the alleyway, "Sorry Deryck," he peaked up having fallen back to take a position of humility.

"Watch it!" Deryck responded stamping his foot on the end of the poor boy's shoe resulting in a startled expression along with a small hop after the fact, "Razzi? How long we got in there?"

"Come now Deryck," the boy turned to face him, "we'll get in without being noticed, we have all the time we want," he turned once more to face the fence that lay across the road protecting the parked vehicles inside, "let's just get this dirt done and we'll all be sucking up gold through a straw."

"Ahem," the blonde haired kid said as he tapped the leaders shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, bad analogy."

"You'd promised you'd stop."

"Just shut up k?" the boy stated with sternness as his face crunched up with disgust, "Let's pull this together and get a job done."

Deryck, a decently tall young man waved his firm hand with a gentle gesture of compliance. Though his hair was the pure hue of darkness and his complexion matched the sourness of a melting vanilla ice cream; in the light of the moon the shadows made engulfed him which, at least in appearance, made him a god among his comrades.

* * *

Unknown to the beings on earth, a battle of light and entrenched hatred ensued in a nearby space and threatened to come closer. "Don't get so close Narog!" A tall human green lantern made his appearance amongst the stars. He proudly wore the lantern logo of green on the black of his body suit which only differentiated with the continuous green highlights that were his knee high thick boots and elbow reaching gloves that clung tightly around his arm. Of the most interesting of features though was his mask, the jagged square edges that reached up the sides of his temples and came down across his cheeks halfway. He continued his shouts at his much larger, deep pink hued teammate whom wore a similar suit but with the absence of long stretch gloves and at the very least a much larger variation so as to fit the moulding of his figure, "our rings won't hold out for long...get some distance!" the human lantern, though appearing brave and bold in this undertaking, was beginning to sweat from the expanded strength poured into his inner will to power his ring; his only source of strength.

"Kyle..." Narog, a humanoid with a large upper body and a terribly large under bite that reached the region where one might have a nose, continued to aim his ring at a sphere of green energy a short distance between both of them on opposite ends. The sphere grew in menacing behaviour as it shocked out bolts of yellow light as it as it came to hover above the Earth's sphere of influence "the ring is giving up!" Suddenly, a shock of yellow light pulled out of the sphere and latched onto the beam Narog had carefully aimed towards it. It began to circle around the beam and made its way up to Narog's arm and squeeze ever so strongly till the strength of the beam snapped and seemingly blew his arm out of its socket.

"No!" Kyle shouted as he let go of his concentration on the fluctuating sphere and made a mad dash to his friend formulating a decently size baseball gloved with which he used to pull him forward towards his otherwise frail human body, "this is going to hurt a little..." he stated under clenched teeth as the design of the glove faded into sketch marks before disappearing. He grabbed hold of his friend with his organic hands and prepared the make shift operation.

"Do it." Narog coldly replied as he watched the sphere begin to dissipate as the yellow bolts began to collapse inward converting the green energy into a small sun. Kyle manoeuvred one hand around Narog's large robust forearm where the green fabric of his Lantern uniform was pulled and back and placed his other hand on the large guys back. After nodding his head a few times and hoping that his friend's physiology was similar to that of humans, he pushed and pulled hard in both directions till he felt a connection of skeletal tissue. Narog let out a small moan never wanting to make the appearance of being weak. Kyle looked at the stars for a brief moment as he allowed himself to float away from his friend in space then looked back towards the magnificence of the Earth below; a look of puzzlement came upon his face; "Where'd it go."

* * *

"Hey, we're almost in," the blond kid replied as he and his three comrades managed to by pass the outer fence of the garage facing the fair's expansive parking lot, "so what we do now?"

"Told you it'd be simple Athis," Razzi stated as he place his coated arm around a nearby Deryck, "trust me, we'll get high marks in the respect category once we've rolled out with these things."

Deryck looked back at him awkwardly allowing him to let go and dash up ahead with Athis parked in front of a tall garage door. Deryck took a moment to ponder the perimeter of the building. The longest and tallest section, shaped as a rectangle, extended towards the fence they had just broken into. It became apparent that it was the proper room that carried all the vehicles being worked on, of the six rather large steel gates, his companions choose to work their magic upon the one nestled closest to the additional smaller sections a further distance from the fair's parking lot.

Deryck stepped a bit closer and stood near the crevice where the garage proper hooked up to the section presumably used for office and storage. Regardless, the near four story height of the garage proper and roughness of the ground seemed undesirable for a jump and tumble; the storage centre seemed much more viable reaching two stories and possessing windows evenly spaced apart, the door perhaps being on the other side of the structure. Touching the wall he could feel that despite its stone appearance, the building was nonetheless constructed with the modern materials; plastic composites and metal panels that served as batter straighteners. He distanced himself from the crevice and nodded, "OK..."

"Alright," Razzi began as he placed his hand on a small rectangular panel on the wall immediately next to heavy garage door, "just got to work in the code I was given..." a few quick taps on the panel proved to be somewhat miraculous as a series of lights on the opposing side of the metal door began to light up and down forming a pattern that held one or the other for a near three seconds. The boys stood back to watch the lights, analyzing the pattern and hopping the code would be sufficient enough to grant them entry. One light after the next along the strip became solid. With the last light, a stunted boom could be heard at the Garage door shifted upward and fluttered back down.

"Is it working?" the round boy asked gaining the stares of his mates.

The door began to pull itself up breaking down into foot sized panels, each one containing its own light along the sides, continuously folding at the top and underneath into an upper bucket like device that had the width to store the flattened panels, "let the adventure begin!" Razzi shouted as he waved his hands in the air walking through the garage.

Athis found a panel on the inner wall immediately following the entry way, he placed his hand upon it and marvel at the blue glass ball that seemed to hover around in the middle, "Lights, ninety percent." Immediately, the panels of lights that layered the roof above began to light up the garage base giving it the exciting detail that the boys were hoping for.

"Early twenty-first century my friends," Razzi stated as he walked towards the first vehicle which stood on a circular platform raised a mere foot in the air. Deryck once again took to noting the features of the room looking for all plausible possibilities of escape. A steel stair well extended from what would be a top floor where he suddenly realized that there was a room. The stairwell was completed with a small balcony which ran along the length of a long single pane window that signified the presence of the room though its automated blinds were down and conventionally camouflaged with the inner garage's wall colour. A single steel door was in the far corner at the edge of the balcony, it lacked any basic handle to pry upon meaning in his mind that the only way to get it open at this time would be on the other side, in the room. A quick turn around to see the farthest extent of garage showed nothing to be of a boastful nature, a simple box like shape which definitely required the lights since not a single window that led to the viewing of the outdoors existed. Vehicles of many different designs, though generally consisted with the established era, lined up in columns of two and extended down the full six doors.

"This is cool," the chubby teen placed his hands awkwardly on a lime green vehicle which felt smooth having never encounter the speed of the road and the friction of the wind.

"Back in the early days of automotive work," Razzi began, "some of the boys in the biz developed this design called a 'hybrid'," he pointed towards the green car the tubby kid was pawing, "didn't catch on when someone came along with the ugly moderns we're seeing today, but there's still some mighty lookers waiting to hit the free road below the air highways."

Athis walked down the path of garage doors till he had found a red mustang like vehicle. With a cunning smile he ran between the column of vehicles and clasped his hands on the narrowing hood coming to a stop at the squared headlights which he proceeded to stroke menacingly, "find something you like buddy?" Deryck arrived, looking suspiciously down at Athis on his knees, his gaze never leaving the old fashioned bulb behind the square plastic translucent panel that extended around from the front and a short distance along the side. Coming to his senses, he turned his head upwards to see the confused Deryck. Dusting his black jeans, the young man stood up and took a firm look at Deryck, "we didn't really come here to boost some vehicles did we," Deryck commented lightly as he took a quick sustained look at Razzi as he eyed the room above the stairwell.

"I doubt it," Athis responded with apathy, "bet the boss has got something for Razzi," Athis stated as he smiled with knowledge.

"What do you mean man?" Deryck responded further confused by his friends sentiment.

Athis dropped into a more serious tone, "why do we do this?" he shook his head in disgust.

"Alright guys," Razzi stated extending his arms to signify the entirety of the room, "the place is yours," he continued as he took his first few steps up the stairwell.

While the round balding teen attempted to break into his prized beauty, Deryck and Athis spied on their faithful leader who pushed away at the steel door passing into the room beyond the window. Athis turned back to the vehicle and squatted down taking another look at the extension of the headlights. Deryck, now contemplating the entirety of the situation proceeded to continue walking down to the end of the garage area passing the extremely robust and detailed vehicles looking down every single column. Looking down at the column at the end of the row he spotted something of interest just below the raised circle platform holding up the car worth more money than he's ever possessed at any time. He fell down to his knees on the composite plastics that may as well have been cement and immediately began to feel the circular edge that only appeared when the platform was raised, he hummed to himself as thoughts began to take hold and the luxury of the vehicles faded from his focus.

* * *

"Well, he thinks he can still send kids to do his jobs," a man leaned forward onto the wooden desktop from his seated position. A tall robust man decked out in black that matched his well darkened demeanour immediately stood in the entrance way pushing the door closed faster beyond its usual floating pace, "hello Razzi," the man smiled from under a wide brimmed hat, "it's unfortunate that you'd be the one he send."

"Rotund..." Razzi stated as his mouth dropped open, his jacket now done flattering, falling limp to his sides.

Rotund, a tall lean fellow who wore a dark brown trench coat that buttoned in eight different locations from his stomach to his chest and matching leather bound fedora, stood up from his seating arrangement as his companion proceeded to turn up the manual dial on the wall control panel immediately on the inside of the door. He looked up at the ceiling just above Razzi's head and grinned revealing the seemingly endless rows of teeth in his mouth and the immense space gaining of his needle like nose, "I happened to really like you, you know?" he stated as he brought his dark brown eyes upon Razzi's dull depressed blue pupils, "you did such a fine job with the splicers," Rotund said positively as he placed his hand in one of the large pockets and pulled up a gun shaped item and aimed it at the startled boy. The evenly spaced blue lights that worked in rows across the top of the gun began to light up as Rotund insinuated with the moving of the weapon that he would be willing to put a few holes in him, "why don't you step out," Rotund moved around the desk, "keep an eye out," he stated as he motioned a smaller gentlemen in a black suit sitting in the far corner. The thug pulled up his semi-automatic and stood to attention before turning to face the adjacent office window that projected the front of the garage. The bigger man proceeded to fix his sunglasses and then pulled up front his own semi-automatic rifle which he balanced in one of his massive paw like hands as he pulled the door open for Razzi to walk with his back facing their menacing glares, "you had such a future man," Rotund teased, "what happened?"

* * *

"Hey fatty," the big man's voice boomed from the balcony above, "hands off the vehicle!"

Instantaneously, the three boys below shot up to look at the pistol waving Rotund as he made nudging motions in Razzi direction, whom now shaking uncontrollably, followed the nonverbal orders. "By the way boys," Rotund started as he glared down at each boy assessing them comfortably from above, "what you're looking for ain't here."

"But you said I-"

"Shut it!" Rotund clambered onto the railing to interrupt the poor chubby fellow who held his hands together tightly to his chest.

Deryck lifted his hands as he walked slowly towards Athis who seemed anything but concerned for the situation that was unfolding, "what the hell is going on here."

"Just hold on," Athis smirked as he continued to stare at the entities above.

Razzi got himself pushed to move down the stairs as Rotund and his guard made the descent with him, "how disappointing," Rotund began, "you haven't told them the reason why you broke into here," Rotund kept his gun hand straight aimed at Razzi's back as he raised his free hand to tease the hairs under his chin, "that's just bad leadership skills." The three made the last step off the stairwell one at a time. Rotund waved his hand signifying for Razzi to move forward; the guard took the command upon himself and grabbed Razzi's shoulder and pushed him towards the hood of the green vehicle. Looking up, he saw the tubby child ready to cry. "So, who wants to see him live?" Rotund looked around at the three others, Deryck stood motionless staring at his leader while Athis smirked sarcastically rolling his eyes. "What, no opinions?"

Everyone in the room, save the guard, jumped as a magnetic shot of metal jumped from the Rotund's pistol and punctured a hole in Razzi's thigh. He let out a curdling scream as his hands fell to the car hood trying to keep himself up; failing so, he twisted his body and fell to the ground and found use of the vehicles tire as a backrest.

"Rotund!" the smaller man shouted as he pulled out of the office room above. He dashed to the ledge of the balcony and clasped his hands tightly on the metal bar, "the law!"

Deryck started breathing heavily as he saw Athis begin to laugh as Rotund's eyes began to go into shock. Realizing the serious of the situation, he raised his gun to the tubby kid, "you turn this on us?"

"Damn fatty," the boom box man chimed in as he drew up his weapon.

"No I didn't!" the boy froze as the hot sweat turned to chills.

The lights on the garage doors began to power up as Rotund and his company turned to look at the open gate seeing the flashing of lights from overhead and drawing closer. "Well," Rotund piped up, "the squealers never live to the end," the blue top of his gun began to fire up sending a hot metal disk at lightning speed smashing into the boy's upper chest cutting off his oxygen supply and puncturing the caravan attachment of the truck behind him. Deryck and Athis watched as their former comrade, though new as he was, dropped to the ground like a pile of rocks, blood gushing around his body leaving its indent stained on the ground. Athis nodded his head, his smile now having left, and stepped forward towards the pistol wielding lunatic as the lights drew near along with the sound of police boots stamping the ground of little stones that comprised the area outside. Deryck recognized the severity of the situation and backed up against the wall, the furthest extent of the garage wall.

Rotund turned to face the oncoming storm of units but suddenly felt the vibration of a metal rod to the side of his head. Razzi pulled back, crowbar in hand as he watched the lifeless body of his enemy turn awkwardly as it hit the ground unconscious. In a split second, the guard raised his weapon to fire in retaliation only to have his expensive suit pierced by three bullets to the leg, arm and chest with a police issue firearm. Razzi's eyes began to flicker, his hands now focused on holding his bloody leg straight. He turned to face his companion Athis, who stood motionless with his bottom lip being tightly bit on. He fell to the ground once more and fell away into the state of blankness.

* * *

"That's an interesting trick," Deryck looked up from his hiding place behind the large assortment of vehicles that lined the parking lot outside the main fair grounds to see a darkened figure standing in the front of the light from the moon, "you practice often?" the voice shot out in a genial manner. He seemed to be a rather short man but the shadowy indent portrayed him as a strong figure, "come on..." he lowered his hand to help Deryck up as he had fallen back against the side panel of the propulsion unit connected to a rather robust red vehicle.

"Were you watching me?" Deryck retorted as he stood up. He took a quick turn around to see the police working tirelessly in a the garage a near half mile away, "though I suppose everyone's probably interested in whats going on over there now..." he turned back now able to see his darkened assailant more clearly. His black hair was nearly shaved to its roots and his smile was slightly crooked, possibly as a result of years in long combat, and he wore a tight purple suit with a series of red straps that connected around and above his shoulders and came down his front like suspenders wrapping themselves around his stomach a near dozen times.

"Well you could say that," the man suggested as his eyes darted to and fro with his unusual smile, "but how many of them know of your involvement and successfully evasion of the law?"

"Who are you?" Deryck asked as he regained his strength preparing to make a run if necessary.

"A friend," the man responded with a serious tone as his smile disappeared.

"No, who are you really? What did you see...?" Deryck responded unamused.

"I can't tell you that now Deryck," the man placed his hand on Deryck's shoulder which puzzled him, "but I suppose, for all intents and purposes, you man call me Shilo," the man let go and waved to the large octagon shape of the fair complex in the immediate distance beyond the parking lot with lights that shone and turned with gracefulness through the moon lit sky, "but around here you best refer to me as the Phenomenal Escaping Victim!" he cheered turning back to the puzzled Deryck, "the miracle worker of escape artistry."

Deryck smiled but quickly returned to his angst ridden appearance, "how do you know my name?"

"It was in the file," he responded in rapid fire enunciation.

"What file?" Deryck's face crunched up with puzzlement as he took the initiative to follow the bizarre man as he travelled down the rows of cars towards the complex, "how do you know how I got out," he nodded his head in disgust, "no one knows me when I'm doing my thing."

"The art form of escapology has been around for centuries my friend," the man responded as his head turned back to look at the following Deryck but never left his designed movement.

"Yeah, bet they all made a quick buck," Deryck stated as he quickened his pace, "so is that what you do here? Escapology?" Deryck asked coming near on par to Shilo.

"Yes," he paused in his movement and looked up at the roof of the complex; a thick black bar that carried circular panel lights that shot out different rays of colours, "I was trained under the best."

"OK," Deryck responded with uncertainty, "you don't really know me do you?"

"Yes Deryck I think I do," he responded.

"What?"

"Before you start to think about running, I think you should give the opportunity to showcase myself," the man stated as he zeroed in on the blue cloth coated gate, "please, come with me to my stadium," he said as he turned and motioned with his hand for Deryck to come with him.

"Your wack! Why would I follow you?" Deryck said trying to look anywhere but the strange man who seemed to be 'picking' him up.

"I don't plan to turn you in Deryck," the man said with a serious appearance now, "I'm a friend who wants to help."

"You know nothing," Deryck responded pulling his hands to his head and then throwing them down, "I don't need help.

"You know you do. You know I know," he nodded. "Please," he continued in his serious tone, "come watch my show."

* * *

Deryck stood inside the large elongate gateway where the roof curved above him. Ahead of him was the stadium field, a true perfection of what a coliseum should be in this post-modern era. A one foot high bulky metal fence circled the stadium grounds; a light spongy plastic like material with its black colour covered lightly with sand. Situated around and outside the fence were wooden pillars all reaching towards the top of the metal dome but at about half way they appeared to lean inwards till all the polls had reached one another creating the foundations of a building within a building. Deryck smiled as the panels of middle ground shifted and retreated from the centre as circular platform began to raise carrying Shilo, the Phenomenal Escaping Victim, in a full purple costume and red straps like how he had first encountered him but now with the additions of a wide red cape with large collar and a red full face mask with purple outlines of his eyes and mouth. He raised his arms as his cape followed suit and almost immediately the endless rows of crowds above began shouting with he protrusion of bright camera lights. The Phenomenal Escaping Victim was the highlight of the show this evening.

Deryck turned around for a moment while Shilo soaked in the whiles of the crowd. He quickly came to notice the intense business of the show staff down the stone hallway as they pushed funny coloured boxes and racks of unusual clothing to and fro panning the end of the hallway. Upon hearing the sound of a large boom he turned back to the stadium as he saw Shilo preparing to pull the stunts that made him so legendary amongst the audience. However, he was not the only one watching from outside the ring of stands, a young girl around his height walked up to the edge of the hallway and leaned up against the wall watching as Deryck broke down with excitement. She was quickly joined by a large brutish man in blue overalls and a cap where the brim glance down below his eyes keeping his face unrevealed; however, of his most distinguishing characteristics was the grey tone of his skin that of which was revealed in his bare arms. The man placed his massive paw upon the wall where she stood and the two engaged in a muffled conversation that ended with her smiling and shaking her head.

She left her perch against the wall and took a few steps up the hallway analyzing the curving architecture as it produced the roof overhead. When she came to a pause a short distance from Deryck's point at the edge of the stadium floor the large brutish figure followed up on her and with a swoop of his bear like hands, the girl found herself catapulted forward towards him and bumping clumsily into his backside.

"What the-?" Deryck shot out as he fell forward.

"Sorry," a soft voice spoke up as Deryck attempted to regain his balance as he turned around to face his assailant. He came to the attention of a flustered girl who desperately reshaped her long blond hair to cover the sides of her head. She wore a straight red leotard with a straight metal belt that really accentuated her figure, "I didn't mean too," she reached her hands out around the Deryck who upon touching her arm realized her skin to be of an unusual tan, an near inhuman orange.

"No no, no concerns," Deryck said with a smile.

"What are you doing here?" she came around to talking in a stern voice, "not even people with access passes are supposed to be down here..." she trailed off with a questioning gaze.

"I'm a friend..." he started unsure of himself, "of Shilo's?" he said questioning himself and he raised his hand, thumb extended, at the spectacle behind him where the noise level had dropped to an all-time low in expectation of the miraculous.

She took some steps forward to come on par with Deryck at the edge of the stadium floor out of sight from the fan excitement forming above, "he's performed this trick a hundred times," she said with evident sarcasm, "we used to get these people coming in to study his methods...?"

"No no, not me..." he uttered to defend himself pulling his hands to his chest, "really, he invited me."

"They never did figure out how he did it all," she continued, her gaze never leaving centre stage, "he's quite the spectacle." the lights began to dim down to a dark hue of purple as the focus of the stadium came to the mystical escape artist surrendered to his traps.

"So..." Deryck started as he turned away to look at her smiling face, "what do you do here? You part of the act?"

"I felt the warmth..."

"Huh?"

"Oh," she stated as her mind snapped back into position, "I'm an acrobat..."

"Hmm..." Deryck nodded his head, "you perform much tonight?"

"Come and gone," she replied, "we always cap off the night with Shilo; I suppose we fear him because no one here could possibly compare in showmanship," Deryck nodded his head in compliance, "all the same though, that times coming to an end."

"What do you mean," Deryck's interest peaked.

"There's been talk that he might be retiring...or leaving us..." she looked down at the sandy ocean beneath their feet, "he doesn't talk much...I can't feel anything from him."

"What your name?" Deryck asked in an effort to stray off topic.

She turned to him, "uh, Crystal...no..." she paused, "yes, Crystal," she nodded her head rapidly.

"Awesome," Deryck responded turning back to the stage, "I'm Deryck."

The audiences' excitement peaked as the lights returned to amplify the significance of the event unfolding in front of them. The two intently watched with unparalleled grins.

* * *

"It's a nice place you got here," Deryck stated as he walked into the large room; he made an attempt to analyze the area seeing the roof cap off at a near second story while the walls, plastered in hard baby blue paint, appeared to be impenetrable; not a signal seal or the smallest of crevice could be found not even in the corners which seemed to be indented with a circular engravings reaching to the ceiling and connecting to the floor.

"Don't fret yourself too much," Shilo stated as he took off his mask and proceeded to make himself comfortable on a classical brown plush single cushioned couch to their immediate left upon entering the room, "it's the best they could give me, I redesigned it to be inescapable...unless you know what you're looking for," he stated with a smile as he flip over a small wooden crate to create a little table. He proceeded to place a tea cup that he seemed to pull from under the couch and place it on the crate table.

Deryck nodded with a disgruntled glare as he instead decided to analyzing the contents of the room noting there to be a wide array of magical looking boxes decked out in unusual colour schemes and holes, costumes of varying shades; though one that stuck to a foundation of red and yellow caught his attention significantly, an endless supply of coloured ropes, strait jackets, metal bars, and locking devices, such as handcuffs, littered throughout the floor of the now seemingly complex set up of a building, "You collect a lot of memorabelia?" Deryck said as he held his hand lightly on the sleeve intricate red and yellow designed costume.

"Well, yes-" he started before being intruded upon by feminine figure who manged to push her way through the wooden door like it was a curtain.

"Shilo!" She shouted in a deep voice but still moderately highly pitched voice. She walked in with a menacing glare and completely ignored Deryck as she made her way to Shilo, "your teas getting cold." she smiled as her towering height leaned down carrying a small metal tea pot which she proceeded to pour its contents into cup that Shilo so eagerly pressed upward.

"Thank you," he responded in a soft barely audible voice.

"So is this the kid you were after," she pointed at Deryck who let go of the sleeve immediately to take a gander at the strange woman in the room. She was quite tall and muscular with the straightest of black hair that nearly reached down to her waist. Her eyes were sharp and her lips firm and appeared as black in the abysmal lighting of the room. She turned to face a couch that had been turned around to face the wall and proceeded to straighten it so as to come on par with Shilo when she sat down. She proceeded to straighten out her black waist jacket over top of her unusual full body purple suit. Deryck was quick to note her unusually large belt, a solid red that held plastic circular pouches; she was a fighter and she had a few tricks up her sleeve.

"Yes, I found him just before my show went on," he smiled as he took a sip of tea.

"Who are you?" Deryck asked puzzled over the two's intricate knowledge of himself.

"I'm Bard-" She started before Shilo raised his hand signalling for her to silence herself, "my names Barbara," she said with a sarcastic smile placing her hands on the ends of the chair handles and leaning herself in. She shot a glare at Shilo who continued to drink with a content mind.

"Alright then..." Deryck started as he came to stand front and centre of the two unusual people that have oddly taken him in, "you going to explain why I'm here," he paused, "what file do you have on me?"

"Ah, so your curiosity got you, does this file exist?" Shilo held the cup to his lap as he looked up at the puzzled boy, he nodded his head and sighed lightly, "you shall know in time."

"Time?" Deryck asked immediately, "No, I don't understand!" he shouted turning to the door as if prepared to leave, "Your setting me up!" Deryck shouted, "I hate being used."

With absolute ease, Shilo reached down to the side of the couch and pulled up a brown file folder that awaited his touch. He placed it on his lap and opened up its contents pulling away at the paper clips so as to read the smooth card paper more easily, "Deryck S. Ethreal," he started as Deryck froze in his position before his hand could reach for the door, "given up for adoption upon birth," he continued, "adopted but ran away at twelve...oh foster homes, twice" he smiled and showed the page to Barbara who accepted the smooth set of papers which outlined Deryck's short stints with foster parents.

"What is with that folder? You seem way to dedicated to the craft to be a cop," Deryck turned around, hands open, looking at the folder in Shilo's lap with an unusual intent.

"I've been around, the police sure have a lot on you..." he continued flipping through the bulk of the papers, "did you really break into a swimming pool to steal chlorine?" he looked up puzzled.

"failed attempt to build a chlorine bomb...couldn't get the right kind of gas from the chlorine the pool's used."

"Gotcha," he said as he turned back to work away at the papers, "nothing too out of control, your quite accomplished...well until recently."

"Yeah..." Deryck uttered as he got closer to the two.

"Deryck," Shilo stated pulling the folder back together and dropping it to the side of the couch once more, "I would like to offer you a job."

"Job...?" Deryck got disgruntled, "I stole things so that I wouldn't have to work!"

"Granted," he responded continuing with his easy voice, "but I don't think you understand..."

"What's that...?" Deryck stated as he noticed what appeared to be the moving off the wall between the two seated individuals. He leaned forward as a shocked looks crowded Barbara and Shilo. A blue hand jumped from the wall coming within contact distance of Deryck's face causing him to fall backwards and trip over a strait jacket. He slipped and fell to his knees, "what is that."

"I'm sorry," a squeaky voice peaked up, "It was so quiet in here a moment ago," a humanoid shaped body, that of the familiar blue colour that lined the wall, fell forward from the wall. Deryck re-established himself feeling that the invisible man was just another attraction but when the being opened its eyes he saw nothing but the blue that defined the room and justly, his body also. Deryck became shocked and backed up slowly towards the door, "giant crayon man..." Deryck muttered under his breath.

"Fralee," Shilo said calmly, "I'm sorry I didn't notice you there."

"What the hell is that?" Deryck responded as he clasped onto the door.

"Well," Shilo stated as he looked toward Deryck along with Barbara and the new addition, "that's one thing I wanted to talk about...but I haven't even made the offer yet." Deryck felt the door and nudged it open and backed away, "wait Deryck!" Shilo shouted out as he quickly receded from Deryck's field of vision.

Deryck turned around to face the inner sanctum of the fair for the permanent performers, suddenly everything seemed much larger when the lights had powered down and all that there was for coping through the monstrous machines was the moon. He turned to face Shilo's room once more, the two story rectangular structure, that was lined up with other unusual structures of various geometric shapes and oddities, suddenly seemed to grown on him, "poisoned? no...mind control." His eyes shot up wide seeing the buildings, the stationed homes for the performs, began to turn into wobbly jello like creations.

"I think I may have touched him..." the high pitched voice stated from inside.

"Ah well, that's just lovely," Shilo commended as their footsteps grew closer to the door.

Deryck saw the light of the stadium back entrance way where he first stood to watch the show and immediately placed his feet one after the other to make it here and hopefully escape the nightmare. He turned inward on the inner platform but felt a sudden jolt in his upper body as he came into contact with the large brutish figure, his grey hued arms bulging with muscle making him an exponential force that Deryck thought necessary to run away from. The tall being stared down at the boy who stood motionless in contrary to his thoughts; its eyes shot up with an orange glare under its wide brimmed hat which resulted in Deryck's eyes following suit in opening as wide as possible. He side stepped around the overall wearing giant and quickly made his way up the platform.

"He's heading back to the stadium," Shilo's voice could be heard in the distance, "well grab him Gary!" he shouted at the giant who proceeded to shrug, "Fralee thinks he's touched him mid transformation."

Deryck ran up the ramp towards the light of the inner stadium; the fans now having left, the only sound he could hear was that of his own heart thumping to the beat of every step, quicker with every stride. He came to a pause at the top of the ramp heading in and began to sweat cold chills as he saw himself surrounded by a near dozen entities all of various sizes, shapes and colours. Some were monsters in appearance, some were unusual and others yet lacked words that could be used to describe them. "No...this isn't a show...?" Deryck muttered as he turned his back to the entrance as he backed himself up against the inner foot high railing of the stadium ring. He fell to his back and looked up at a tall red man with an unusual smile of endless teeth and purples eyes, reaching an arm down he tried to help the poor boy up but Deryck could not fathom such an ordeal and immediately paddled his hands to drag himself further backwards dragging up the sand in the process.

Deryck came to a stop when he felt to firm pillars behind him, he placed his hands on them and felt the swaying of soft fabric which lowered down to smooth leather shoes. Deryck proceeded to raise his head and look up at the man he had just manoeuvred into. The man wore a fashionable black dress coat with a back that reached down nearly to his knees and wore a red bow tie over a white dress shirt and striped black and yellow vest. A frown was upon his aged face, distinguishing in that his face was a pale grey, a near white, that made him appear most serious in any word that could possibly be spoken; eyes dark to the point of black, lips trembling and yet bulging with the familiar dark hue, "What's going on here?" he stirred up the attention of the all the entities in the stadium's service entrance.

"Everyone's...an alien...!" Deryck attempted to mutter looking back towards the entrance which he believed was his only escape route.

"Well not everyone," a man stood up after seemingly lying on the floor. He held on to a dark brown bottle from the neck his white shirt and cream coloured pants having most certainly been stained by the bottles contents, "Not all of us are those..." he paused and pulled his free hand to his face to whisper something important, "derogatory word!" his eyes opened up wide on the last syllable before he fell to the ground once more to continue his sleep.

"That was human," Deryck pointed as he raised his knees and pulled his back up.

"My apologies Councillor," Shilo appeared in the entrance way along with Barbara, the usual wall character named Fralee and the grey brute, "he is a friend of mine, Fralee had an accidental encounter with him," he continued in his defining calm voice.

The tall black suited man walked around Deryck who found it impossible to move his pointing finger, "Yes, I'm sure he makes quite the excellent conversation."

"What going on?" Deryck yelled looking upward to the roof where the wood beams seemed to be spiralling around him. He felt a smooth hand reach out and grab hold of his arm, he reached his other hand over to grab it. Looking up he saw that Crystal was attempting to pull him up to his feet; however, he was startled when he found that her hair had been pulled back behind her ears and that her skin appeared even more faintly human than before. Her ears were near triangular in shaped and the brims appeared to have tiny bite marks, it was all to shocking for Deryck's narrow focused mind.

"Please calm down Deryck," she said in her soft voice.

"Your one of them?" he questioned as she used her strength to pull him to his feet, "No..."

"Deryck," Shilo stated as he made his way to the ring. Deryck turned to face him, "It's going to be alright, you're just going to need some rest alright?"

"NO!" Deryck retorted loudly, "this place is full of aliens!"

"Yeah," Shilo continued, "about that..." he pointed with his one hand at the other. Seemingly understanding, Deryck proceeded to look at his own hands which he found to be of the same orange colouring as Crystal. His heart jumped up into over drive as he looked around the rest of his arms finding the unusual colour that had taken over him. He paused to stare at Shilo, "am I dying?"

"No, it's just a side effect, you just need to relax for a moment..." he began to mutter, "then sleep it off..."

He turned to face Crystal one more time and with a heavy heart she placed her hand on his head. Suddenly he felt a sensation of happiness comb through his body, his heart slowed down as his vision of the world around him began to disappear. With a smile on his face, Deryck dropped to the ground.

"Alright," the councillor stated, "someone take care of him."

* * *

"Hello...?"

"Girl whom I've met," Deryck thought to himself, "who was she again."

"Kindred Emma," the voice continued keeping to the soft recognizable tone.

"I don't understand," Deryck continued his thoughts, "where am I? Why can't I see?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Deryck vision crept in slowly, first blotches, than simple patterns before becoming clear. He found himself lying on his back staring up at the young acrobat who was caressing his face, her hair reaching down touching his shoulders, "is that better," she moved her head just as Deryck shot up.

"OK, where am I?" Deryck looked around, the orange skies mixed with the pale yellow clouds smoothed to look like an orange crush float; the sight of which extended on the far horizon with seemingly no sun to its name. A quick pull up of grass from below revealed the palest of green blades; a near blue that was most unusual, "Ah, still?" he attempted to contain himself upon finding his skin to be the most unusual shade of orange, "I hate carrots!"

She let out a chuckle watching from her knees as Deryck stood up and walked around. He found that among the weird oddities of his surroundings and girl was the fact that the two were floating on a platform of rock and dirt and all around other earth like platforms floating around the endless sky with no light or source below; it was just endless floating. "What is it that you've done to me?" Deryck turned back to his alleged tormentor as she sprawled out on the mound in a pure white that fell to her ankles. A smile on her face, she looked up at Deryck, "saving your life."

"What...?" Deryck stated while staring deeply into her eyes noting the seriousness.

"I felt you," she began again as her smile faded away, "your heart was about to give out...you needed to calm down..." she stood up and got close to Deryck, "I'm sorry, the best I could do was bring you into my mind...though I've never had anyone else before?"

"What...?" he became struck again, "what does that mean?"

"Fralee touched you," her smile returned, "and then you touched me, it wasn't on purpose," her head shied away from his gaze.

"No," he put his tough hands on her shoulder, "I really don't understand."

"You absorbed me," she said looking up, "when Fralee touched you he passed on his genes, probably while he was changing forms...he just..." she nodded her head, "just passed on..." she looked at him eye to eye, his hands dropped, "you've taken a part of me and applied it to yourself. You're a part of my people."

"For how long," Deryck stuttered as he fell back.

"Fralee's affects on people usually lasts less than a day, but..." she looked down.

"What," he shook her back up to see her smile.

"I haven't connected with anyone in years..." Deryck placed his hands to his head and fell to his knees, "Your waking up now."

"Ah!" he shouted and he fell stomach to the ground, "Why does it have to hurt so much."

"Your waking up now."

"What...?"

"Your Waking up now. Deryck!"

* * *

"Hello sunshine!"

Deryck raised his head, "ugh, whats that smell?" he turned to look over and see the resident drunkard who was in definite need of a shave and a shower among other things, "agh, what happened?"

"Dude, you got mind zapped," he slapped hand to the side of his head, "But hey, your awake now isn't that nice?"

"Where am I?" Deryck asked. He pulled to the side of the small one man bed and found himself in a very narrow room. A couch at the back end and a window above had a seemingly endless amount of bottles piled up on it with another arrangement of clothes following. Down the other way he saw a source of light; the door. Regardless, the smell of the place really threw him off of any really thinking.

"Well," the man said looking around the cluttered space, "well, I suppose you're in my space."

"What?" Deryck paused, "I got to stop asking, I'm just not getting any answers."

"Suppose when they found me asleep on the floor they hooked you up in my place."

"Great," he responded scratching his head, "haven't slept that well in weeks," he stopped to look at his features noticing the orange has receded thereby relieving his mind acknowledging his return to normalcy.

"Plenty of spare clothing around..." the drunk continued.

"What? oh..." Deryck became bemused as he stood up finding himself stripped to his under shorts.

"Be careful man, some of these people around here like taking pictures," he raised his hands up holding an invisible camera.

Deryck bent down and nudge around the raging drunk who fell backwards onto a nearby chair. He found a suitable pair of pants, brown work jeans, and hurriedly put them on, "you got my shoes?" the drunk smiled with wide eyes as he pulled up the the pair of black shoes, "alright, give me those," Deryck quickly snatched them as the man missing his sobriety began to chuckle as he passed away in silence.

* * *

Unable to locate Shilo at his studio, Deryck made head way towards the stadium where he hoped that perhaps Shilo was working on his routine; however, upon coming to the tall pillars that marked the entrance into the stadium he butted bodies with, as he did the night before, the tall brutish, yet gentle, grey giant, "oh, uh. hi." Deryck stuttered out as he came to recognize the man.

"That's alright," the man boomed out as he turned to face the entrance way and headed inside. He turned his head back to Deryck who stood motionless, smiled and began to chuckle as he continued his walk to the main stage. Deryck nodded and looked around the empty lot of the early morning and then made the decision to follow the booming gentle alien inside.

Deryck ran up to the man as he stood against the outer black thin metre high railing watching the rafters. Puzzled, Deryck got on par and held up on the railing also, "this wasn't here last night."

"Well," he boomed in response, "we don't exactly need this kind of railing for shows."

"Gary right?"

"Yes," the man nodded.

"What are you looking at?" he questioned looking at the defining characteristics of the otherworldly being, his jaw being the squarest of any person he had ever seen with the largest of arms seemingly capable of twisting the metal he held in his hands.

"Her," he stated as he pointed up.

Deryck followed through on the motions and raised his head to look above where he found the girl, the one had touched him and brought him into her mind. She was in practice, doing her routine with a smile on her face. "how lovely," Deryck said as the signs of excitement lit up in his face, "she's a very talented acrobat right?"

"Indeed," Gary responded.

Deryck let out a big sigh and leaned forward with his elbows on the railing as he played with his hands tightly together, "I suppose I owe you an apology," he looked up to the man who never let his eyes off the girl performing above.

"I suppose."

"I, uh, didn't really know what I was thinking...and..."

"Hey," he turned to look down at the boy, "don't get into to much heart felt sentiment."

"Huh?"

"You just didn't know," he continued.

"What is this place? Why is there so many...?"

"Aliens?"

"Yeah, like I said..."

"Yeah, yeah," he started, "In my travels, even on my home, it seems that every civilization has the need to hate what isn't normal to them; no matter how open minded...you're not the first that we've come across with."

"Yeah, what's up with that drunken guy?"

"Who? Scotchy?" the man began to laugh uncontrollably, "yeah, I suppose he was the most open minded...mind you I think that's the sauce talking...weird things your earth governments legalize."

"So," Deryck asked continuing his question.

"I suppose, to it bluntly," he smirked, "this is sort of an 'refugee camp.'

"Like an otherworldly one at that..." Deryck muttered, "suppose no one would suspect anything unusual at a fair like this one eh?"

"Perhaps," he looked off into the distance, "every so often we get found out but thanks to the Councillor, all our worries are put to rest."

"The Councillor?" he said in a shocked tone remembering the events of the night before.

"He's sort of our leader. He started this whole thing; he was once a true showman from a great distant plane that was lost to the endless war. When he found other of similar tastes, either they lost their homes to war or were taken away from there, he would come along and offer them a place in his fair. Everyone chips in of course, but its great to have a home I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"Still want to go home," he hummed.

Deryck watched on as the gentle giant looked off into the distance with a heavy smile. He returned his vision to the rafters above where the mind invading acrobat continued her routine; over and over, the same loops till absolute perfection could be within distance of achieving. "She was in my mind last night...when I was asleep."

"Yeah, she told me."

"Really?" he nodded in compliance, "so she's like some sort of telepath right?"

"I'm not too sure actually; I've never known her to be able to read people's minds, she just senses things: events and emotions...she sensed you last night on both accounts."

"Kindred Emma...?"

"What's that?" he paused in his own puzzlement.

"That's her name isn't it?"

"Well, she can't lie in her own head, you've done her very good and you don't even realize it."

"Wait, what did I do...?" he paused.

"Kindred."

"Is that like her last name, I've read some cultures place-"

"It's her species," Deryck sighed turning down to look at the centre ring, "See, the Kindred are a species of telepathic twins, identical in almost every way; their connection," he enunciated, "is their living." Deryck brought his head up to listen intently, "this is the time where it's supposed to be compulsory connection of their minds, but now that she's alone, well she loses a bit of herself. It's a good thing you've come along, I think she secretly knew what you were going to do for her."

"Wait," Deryck piped up as he shook his head, "did she use me?"

"What do you think," he turned to face him.

"What happened to her twin?"

His eyebrows popped up, "that's something you'd have to ask her. Here's your chance..."

Deryck turned his head up forward as he watched the alien acrobat gracefully swing around the rope and come down to the centre of the stage. She looked forward and when she locked eyes with Deryck she immediately detached herself looking away almost instantly. Deryck and Gary turned to look at one another. Kindred Emma paced herself and began to make the walk over to the two gentlemen hanging on the rail watching her, "you like what you see."

"Always," Gary bowed his head in appreciation.

"It was marvellous," Deryck awkwardly responded. She smiled and bowed her head in appreciation as she walked by them, "hey um," Deryck turned to get her attention, "did you want to maybe talk later...you know about..." he trailed off.

She turned awkwardly on her spot in the tunnel way and shook her head letting her head room freely. She turned her head up to look at Deryck who was approaching her, Gary in the distance smiling as he leaned his back against the railing, "yeah," she said shyly, "I'd like that."

"Alright," Deryck nodded with a smile.

"I'm...on the west side," her eyes brows bounced while she curled her hair behind her ears revealing her physical alien traits once more, "in a couple hours right?"

"Sure," Deryck responded watching as she made good on the distance between them. She disappeared into the light of the early day. "Well, that wasn't awkward."

Gary came up towards Deryck and friendly placed his massive arm around Deryck, "I think your being summoned," he pulled Deryck gently around to face the stadium once more and he quickly came to notice Shilo in the distance at the entrance commonly used for spectators.

"Alright, thanks Gary."

* * *

Shilo, ever so ready in his gear, walked with his arms behind his back around the fairgrounds just as the workers were setting up the attractions that had made the fairground what it is. Deryck followed in a near one stride behind, but was quickly gaining ground, "Did you know what was going to happen last night? To me? I could have been killed."

"You're just upset that you couldn't find a way to escape," Shilo responded in his carefree attitude.

Deryck shot a look up at the long tracks as they turned and twisted in various directions, "free standing" he muttered to himself, "I was used," he piped up, "Is that the real reason your brought me here. You have mind powers too?"

"No Deryck," Shilo turned to face the boy as they made a turn around the small connected shacks and their owners who would boast of greatness and easy success for whomever would follow through on their pleas to play; a sure tradition in these such festivities, "I'm afraid I was not aware that such a thing would occur."

"Then..." he paused to think, "is it true?"

"What?" he looked at the boy with a puzzled grinned, his hands never leaving his back.

"Ah Crystal, um Kindred Emma, she said that you were thinking of retiring or leaving."

He nodded and let a small smile out, "have you ever questioned your birth parents?"

Deryck looked away as he continued to walk with him, "I suppose I have, but I've never pursued it...they couldn't take me on, I'm fine with that..." he paused and looked at the oddly dressed escape artist, "you're not like going to come out and say your my father or something?"

"No," Shilo began to laugh, "It's just something of interest, your file never contained any information on the topic, thought you might knew something."

"That's another thing, how or like why do you care about me? I don't think we've met; you haven't called me into the cops yet?"

"It's not easy is it Derek..." Shilo came to a stop on the coarse pathway and looked intently into Deryck's eyes which signified him to stop and take the moment seriously.

"What do you mean?"

"When others see a prison, a place they could never get out of, you see a bunch of different ways to escape and you have the determination to make it happen," Deryck looked down, "its an interesting talent; but why not use it for good?"

"And what?" Deryck looked up with a dissatisfied grin and continued with sarcasm, "you want me to entertain the mindless masses?"

"Well, you're not ready for that yet," Shilo responded with a smile as he continued his walk, "I wanted to offer you a position on my staff."

"An assistant?"

"Of sorts, I'm more or less looking for someone to pass along my trade, explain my secrets so to speak."

"What about Barbara?"

"She fine no doubt, but she's not exactly the most interested in our trade."

"You are going aren't you?"

"There is a time," he stopped once more, "and that time is coming soon."

"I don't understand."

Shilo smiled, "perhaps..." he paused, "you'll understand soon. Now, if you'll excuse me I have some personal things to take care of...perhaps we will talk later." Deryck stopped in his walking as he watched Shilo pass by Barbara who was blowing a gum bubble, he laughed when it popped and then the two marched off into the distance. Deryck sighed with some relief uncertain of what he should do next.

* * *

Heading towards west end, Deryck came across as more structured complex, near house like but still basic in its box design. Painted with a cream coloured coat and possessing a centre door with two decently sized windows on either side really made the construction standing out from the rest. Upon hearing loud slimy voice emanating from the structure, Deryck could not help but follow up on his growing curiosity and listen in.

"Perhaps I should start soon...?" a slimy unethical sound voice produced itself.

"Not now Sleez, please" a response came shortly, "give me more time."

"That's the Councillor's voice," Deryck muttered to himself as he turned down the alley way between the structures and leaned up against the wall below an open window. Deryck slowly got up on the tip of his toes to take a look inside where what he saw was most puzzling but with further contemplation found it to be perhaps most normal with this particular crowd. A small very wide figure with the pales of skin, a gut as large as the window and a smile with so many dirty teeth that anyone who came in view of him would never see attraction in any other being so long as the memory stuck. It wore a large black jacket around it's body and kept a wide brimmed hat pinned down below his blue crystal eyes.

"I'm going to be coming by soon," it blurted out, "I'm just going to call up my men."

"No," the Councillor piped up to defend himself, "I know your just messing with my emotions, this fear is not me..." he spoke trembling.

"No, I have done nothing Councillor," the beast responded as it pulled its two massive grey hands together to play with a box like device, "that all you. Payment or Enslavement, it's not that hard a wager," it smiled.

"Something's not right," Deryck said as he jumped back to the ground, "should tell Shilo..." he nodded his head and attempted to shake off the spine chilling feeling that had engulfed him, "no...that's right more important things for me to care about," he shook his head in agreement as he turned to look back at the main rock structured street he detoured from where he saw the large slimy figure turn to him with a greasy smile exposing his sludge infested mouth, "everyone here's an alien, and only one interests me at the moment," his eyes glared as he watched the figure patter down the road and out of view.

* * *

Deryck stood outside another long blue rectangular box like trailer; he walked around it not seeing there to be much difference between this one and the trailer he had woken up in. "This is the right one right? Hope that little red dude wasn't pulling my chain." he waked up to the short end of the trailer and placed his hands on the metal siding that defined the basis of the structure. He placed his hand on the ledge of the window above that took up a large portion of the side. Uncertain, he attempted to pull himself up; however, when this proved futile he decided to find something that he could stand on to take a better look. He found an lawn chair folded up against a nearby trailer which he immediately pull open, "haven't seen one of these things in years," he placed the chair underneath the window and gently raised himself onto the chair letting his shoes work their way into the soft fabric that surrounded the metal bars that comprised the chair.

A quick peak through the window revealed a familiar sight as the one he woke up in only unsurprisingly, it was much cleaner. A table and a kitchen area could be made out now aswell as a short hallway that extended into a back room which, judging by the absence of a cot like bed he had woken up in, would mean that room would be considered the main bedroom. He watched as the door at the end of the hallway opened and immediately ducked when he recognized Kindred Emma step forward. He started breathing deeply waiting for the right moment, he raised his head ever so slightly so as to see once more inside. He watched intently as she fixed her short red jacket around a tight purple shirt that curved well underneath her standard belt. She looked up suddenly and seemed to breath in deeply with her eyes shut before turning with a lightning impulse at the window causing Deryck to fall back off the chair.

"Were you spying on me?" she said as she came towards the completely dazed Deryck.

"No, I was just trying to figure out where you lived." he said as he got up from his safe position on the ground.

"Well, are you satisfied?"

* * *

"You've never been into the city?"

"I have no reason, everything is provided for me on the fair grounds."

The two walked down the cemented sidewalk passing by all the standard all round houses, their perfect fences, their cumbersome windows and most perfect of paint jobs that a machine could produce; all features which sold a story that was unlike the one told inside the family that lived within. Kindred Emma stared at the family townhouses with wide eyes feeling the need to go beyond the varying white wooden or black spear shaped fences, just to see and understand what made them.

"This place it feels so hollow," she stated with some pain.

"How do you figure," Deryck stated, each pace being made to match hers.

"I don't feel any happiness here," she continued as she looked up to all the structures their various floors reaching into space weighing in no such change in opinion, "these house are so big but the lack a story, a purpose."

"It's efficient," Deryck responded sharply, "it's a perfect combination of plastics and steel; it's made to house people, they're cheap and easy to build."

"It's not a home though is it?" She retorted looking at Deryck, "I may just have run down trailer, but it's a home with Gary and all the others..."

"I wouldn't know," Deryck responded, "I don't see much purpose in families...everyone withers and dies eventually..."

"I know," she responded, placing her hand on his shoulder, "I saw into your mind...you torture yourself to much and commend yourself to rarely."

"Yeah," he responded as he placed his hands in his pockets when she let her grasp go.

"What happened to your sister?" Deryck came out bluntly. Her face suddenly became a blushed orange as she looked down at her feet and her pace began to slow, "I'm sorry, I guess I..."

"No, no," she attempted to reconcile.

"I'm sorry, Gary told me...just I guess I don't like being used, when you locked minds with mine, it was just scary..." he paused to look at her continuing state, "I didn't me to offend..."

"I don't like being alone Deryck," She stated as her head came back up, the breeze now flushed in surrounding her flushing away the hair from her face and ears, "even if I found others, I would always be alone without her."

"Can you feel me now...?" Deryck asked.

"Yes," she raised her head to the sky, "I'm sorry, but at this time I really needed the help..." she shied away from looking at him, "I want to apologize but I'm much more thankful..."

"How long are you going to be in my head?" he asked puzzled with a tinge of uneasiness.

"I don't know, I've never locked consciousnesses with anyone but my sister, this is quite unusual."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"I can..."

"Yeah, uh," Deryck started while scratching his head in disbelief, "keep it to yourself..."

"Are you going to stay?" she pleaded clasping her hands together over her chest in a reverent gesture.

"Stay where?"

"With us," she nodded, "I know its rushed...but I need you now."

"I don't..." Deryck came to a pause in his walking and stared into the distance.

"Deryck," she started, "I feel your anger, whats wrong?"

Deryck took a look ahead at a pathway heading away from a townhouse and closing with a staircase a short distance ahead where he found a rather tall young man with blonde hair and an empty gaze was sitting upon one of the steps with his arm raised under his chin for support. When the two came to lock eyes Deryck's heart began to rage as the distant boy began to smile as his support hand dropped and he raised himself from the steps to take a better look.

"Athis," Deryck started.

"Deryck, where have you been?"

* * *

The battle of light continued on the outskirts of the earth's atmosphere as the forces of good empowered by the green battery pursued relentlessly against a near unseen entity that possessed seemingly vast powers that stemmed from the Lantern's one weakness, the yellow energy. "Narog," the tall, muscular and well established male human lantern shouted across to his rather large and brutish looking teammate, "I think it's gotten to the others side of the planet...we got to use this time to get to a safer place...preferably away from earth!"

"Kyle," Narog started in his grumbling voice, "my apologies but it would appear that our bane has managed to infect the ring," the purple creature nodded his head downward to examine his ring, pulling up his hand to his near square eye slits. The centre of his ring now proudly showed the lantern logo with slight infusions of yellow energy that was glowing brighter than the green of the ring itself.

Kyle paused in his position, the green glow now becoming faint around him, "what do you mean?" his legs moved upward in preparation to fly at top speeds as soon as possible.

"I fear that he may be following me now," he paused to swallow, "perhaps it is best we dispose of the ring properly before it falls into its hands," he looked up at the nearby Kyle stifling all his inner feelings.

"No...no," Kyle's voice began to waver as his head shook, "we're not giving up, I'll call the corps or the league...someone will come! That thing has got to work, we've come too far!" His voice peaked, "someone will come!"

"But not soon enough...It draws near."

"No, Narog!"

"Kyle!" Narog's voice boomed as he raised his ring hand quickly and shot a bolt of green energy just as a lighting force of yellow energy emerged from the cover behind the earth horizon. The quarter inch bolt of energy impacted Kyle's chest throwing his head back causing him to nearly lose consciousness. Momentarily, Kyle found himself tossed a great distance away from the blue planet and towards the blaze of the sun. He kept his head up watching the force of the yellow energy jumped toward and into Narog cause an explosion of amassed energy. The sound dazzled and nullified Kyle's immediate senses till a shock wave arrived hurtling his body even further towards the sun. His eyes wavered as his body became limp and thus he sunk into a state of unconsciousness.


	5. Nightwing 2 Part 2

Nightwing #2  
Volume 1. Story 1.  
Why Can't I Understand What This All Means? (Part 2)

_Chronology:  
__Pre-Young Justice #1  
_

* * *

"Come back to me Todd..."

"Mom?"

"That's it Todd," a deep male voice took over, "the drugs are kicking in."

"What..." Todd's voice trailed, "I didn't order no drugs."

"Take it easy," the oppressing voice continued. A hard pressure feeling fell upon his chest for a few seconds before releasing, "are you thinking clearly yet?"

"Wah!" Todd shot up and immediately clasped his bare hand to the back of his head and moaned with pain. Stripped of his Nightwing uniform, Todd found his feet up to his chest buried underneath a dark blue heavy blanket that would seem more suitable for use on space missions then on the medical bed he was positioned on.

"How was your sleep?" the deep voice questioned as Todd allowed his head to fall back on the soft pillow and scrunching up his in discomfort. He placed both his hands on the smooth metal side bars keeping him from rolling off and proceeded to pull himself up a few inches to get a better look at a desk in the far distance which had placed gently on top the Nightwing costume. He fell back down to the pillow and turned his head to his left to look towards a tall man in a solid black uniform sitting behind another desk that extended all around the wall. In the far distance, where the wall and desk ended, Todd distinctly recognized a traditional railway track; an old underground tunnel which, judging by time alone, had not been in use for over two decades. When Todd's senses came around he was enamoured with the rather small scope of the room which had well plastered one foot tiles painted in the colour of hospital scrubs, "You had quite a nasty tumble," Todd watched as the man's head bobbled over the top rim of the black back chair with every word, "nearly hit the cement." The man sat on a swivel chair with a circular foot base, he stared up at the lone monitor and angrily worked away at the keyboard below, "I got a phone call," he said with a stern voice as the panels dictating information slid down and side to side with absolute precision. He turned around on his chair revealing his aged scarred face, his grey crown of wisdom and menacing well-muscled hands that held a long black oak cane tightly, "I don't like getting phone calls."

Todd turned onto his side facing the man but could not bear to look him straight on, "I'm sorry Mr. Wayne..." he tried to speak up but could barely pull much from his deliberating breath, "who got me?" he turned on his side and pulled his arms behind his head to give him better propping on his bed.

"Proxy notified Batgirl," Wayne stated as he turned back to the screen, "had to give you some fast reacting medication before you took any serious brain damage."

"Ah great always thought she'd rescue me... well someone better than Terry," Todd said jokingly.

"Cassie called me when she found you had disappeared in the morning."

"Oh..." Todd stated as he pulled himself up in the small one body bed, "you know to be honest I had totally forgotten about her..."

"Get up," he stated quickly.

"Yes sir," Todd responded matching the vocal speed. He pushed the covers to the ending edge of the bed and proceeded to follow through on going over the bunched up fabrics and make for the Nightwing costume some few paces away.

"You should be more thankful, she seems to be more than willing to take you in."

"Yeah," Todd mumbled, "just don't know if she'll always be there."

Todd felt down the tight black body suit that stopped just short of his wrists and ankles and felt it dripping with sweat. He shook his hands of the acquired perspiration and proceeded to pull the Nightwing costume from its neatly folded position as the edge of the wall desk.

"I got a hit on the drugs you were investigating," Wayne stated with unflinching vision upon the computer screen, "It's a designer drug that originates in late 2010: it's called Soul."

"Soul?" Todd shot up as he pulled the leggings of his uniforms up around his waist regulating the belt to the right position to keep the suit held up, "what's so designer about it...bliss and anger no?"

"The chemical reactions of the drug relate to your emotive feelings, or as it's commonly understood: your state of character." Wayne turned on the chair to stare at his young soldier, "basically if you're feeling bad you emote a state of extreme anger and aggression, but if you're feeling good you emote a higher state of peace, bliss like."

"Isn't that the truth..." Todd pulled upon the suit as it elevated itself to the standard position and form that matched the contours of his small frame.

Wayne placed a hand to his chin and contemplated the drug, "we dealt with this before, years ago but back then it was an actual drug; it's an addictive drug so it's highly unusual for its legacy to have continued into legal counter drugs," he turned back to the screen, "you certainly have to be taking a lot of Cirius to reach the Soul compliment."

"Yeah, the users I ran into," Todd said as he made his way over to the adjacent wall desk with his mask down, "had like a hundred bottles with them."

"Some bad things just never go away," he paused and tapped away at the computer mouse pad.

"So, you calling up Terry to deal with this?" Todd asked grabbing the top of the chair and turning his head inward towards the old mentor to get a glimpse of the information of the screen.

"No. He's busy with league business." he said sternly. Recognizing the tone, it became evident to Todd that the two had not been talking to one another in sometime.

"Well," Todd began slowly, "I think I can handle this then."

"Good, but you're going to have to drop the court case first."

"What?" Todd retorted in his questioning tone, "Why? This is great, no doubt with your connections you'll be able to find a way to get innocence noticed."

"The client is guilty."

Todd's mouth dropped, "nah," he waved his hand, "we're heroes, we only take the cases of good innocent people...I'm sure Cassie would-"

"Ah, of course," Wayne brought up his hands together assuming a contemplating position.

"What?"

"It was much to typical a mindset for the heroes of that generation," Wayne responded.

"Yeah...what? she's a good right, one of the best...?"

"Yes," Wayne continued, "but she's trying to live with the notion that we can create an ideal world; something I assure you is less feasible with this cowardly lot in power." Wayne turned on his chair to face the young man, "I too had to contend with it with my own partners through my time, "he leaned forward with glazed eyes, "It was under their opinion that they could construct a world where their participation as costumed vigilantes would no longer be required. But then you notice how many lives you could have saved if you were only just that much more willing..." Todd stared blankly into space unable to think, "if we keep giving these cowardly lot more chances, something they want, then this ideal world with perfect laws and order will never be."

"She seems good," Todd contended.

"She's an amazing hero, but she's being an idealist in indecent times; none of us contend that what we do is always for the better good, but when you have experienced what I have you start to understand that there are certain principles of our civilization that never change and perhaps maybe they never can: the world will always need its heroes."

He turned away from Todd and back to his computer console, "but perhaps that discussion is for another time," Todd stood in a moment of intense thought attempting to cultivate what was just stated, "Anyway, a more pressing argument is that a rich son with a doctor from a low key facility, a research one at that. I doubt the Mayor's son would opt for public health when he could easily purchase the best."

"What do you mean?"

"Jacob Batemen has fallen into the wrong crowd; unfortunate since I seem to remember helping fund his father's first run in office," a few taps of the rubbery keyboard buttons brought up a picture of a diseased grey skinned man, bald, and sporting a black gas mask and glowing green goggles, "When we first investigated the source of the drugs we found them connected to an old enemy of mine; Dr. Karl Hellfern better known as Doctor Death."

"No wait-!" Todd shouted as he clasped his hands to his head, "I can't think this through; something important about the name Death..."

"Dr. lark Thead," Wayne responded sharply, "It's an anagram. Though I suspect that he's never actually needed to use the name in person."

"No, I was at his office."

"Not what I meant," he scrolled down the page passing all the information about the person, "Doctor Death's been dead for years."

"Ah great," Todd stated turning away from the computer screen attempting to contemplate a great detective scenario beyond his comprehension, "Why would Batemen's son work with a dead guy?"

"You have to eliminate the possibilities till only one remains," Wayne continued, "just based off this information we have secured that someone is posing as a Doctor Thead. Jacob Batemen could not be Doctor Thead but he works for him evidently through delivery transactions of his merchandise."

"That was all in the file?"

"The case has been brought up several times," Wayne stated in monotone, "the District Attorney's has been ritually bringing up new information, often trivial, with every re-filing."

"But does anyone know the truth about Cirius?"

"They soon will," Wayne pressed a few keys bringing an article on an scientific journal, "after the tests we took I had some chemists at Wayne tech work up a dossier on the counter drug; the medication council is pulling the stock of drugs off shelves as we speak. I wouldn't be surprised if the D.A. has already picked up on this."

"Ah," Todd placed a hand to his head, "but Cassie wouldn't have gotten that kind of information," Todd shook his head with dissatisfaction, "I should tell her," he stated with uncertainty, "I'm sure if she only knew then she would drop the case in respect to her feelings to truth and justice."

"That wouldn't do any good despite whatever feelings you or she may have," Wayne responded, "This case is pretty open and shut, it's not something you agree to without knowing a loss is on the horizon; I know we'd like to believe that we're always doing what's good, but Cassie is of a different case, she may have over stepped her reach on this one, she can't make people be good simply because she wills it."

"Yeah, well it's not fair!" Todd stomped the floor hard; however, the emotion quickly passed, "but we can use a victory to our advantage."

"I'm certain I know where you heading with this one.

"Are you close with the presiding judge?"

"Indeed, I'll talk to him as soon as I can. You know, we're going to have to give Cassie the benefit of the doubt and help her succeed in this case."

"Yeah, I'll see if I can catch her before the session starts, maybe she can improvise and keep this going beyond the Judge's first ruling."

"Get to it then."

"Great, where's the blue bird?"

"It's a short distance down the rail track," Wayne pointed down the entrance way to his side.

"Good," Todd responded as he pulled up his cowl, "so, whether she is willing helping a guilt ridden man, a victory would certainly make our case more successful," he nodded his head as he made steps towards the entrance way in to the railway lane, "but yeah, she'll want to drop it after I tell her though, right?"

* * *

Cassie placed her hand the handle at the top of a green cushioned chair and pulled it outward from the long brown waxed table in the councillors meeting room. She gently brought herself around the chair and pulled down her black jacket over her spotless white blouse and sat down firmly indenting the soft cushion that comprised the bottom of the chair. She clasped her hands together and leaned forward on the table with her elbows picking up friction on the wax coating coming to a stop a mere two inches inward. Her crystal blue eyes beamed forward with the rest of her face revealing no emotion, "Have you give some thought about what your father and I talked about."

A man on the opposing side of the table looked back with hazel tired eyes that along with his light brown hair now seeming receding permitted the assumption that he was quite an older person in contrast to what his birth certificate might affirm. He was slumped in his chair, his wickedly thin arms curved at the elbows and hand falling into space of his lap. Wearing a fine black jacket over top of a red collared shirt however shared that there was either some real concern for his current disposition or that his father has a way with discussing what must be worn in order to impress the judicial offices. "I haven't done anything...I've told them, I just needed some medical aid."

"That's all fine," Cassie surrendered her gaze and fell back into her chair as well, "But that's not exactly the charge anymore..." she paused and looked up at the table circling Mr. Batemen, the doting father whom dressed finely but acted humbly but could now be placed in a political hot seat if his son was found to be dealing with things of an illicit nature, "There are other concerns that you might be addicted...is this true?"

The junior to the high standing Batemen leaned forward with his thin scarecrow like fingers rippling down on the table leaned forward and nodded his head, "I need help, I was in pain."

Cassie leaned in to counter while portraying a serious demeanour, "What was wrong with the prescription? Huh?" she nodded questioningly.

"It wasn't enough!" he seemed to speak louder as he fell backwards into his chair reassuming his lazy position that brought shame to his father.

"Son," Batemen chimed in with his mumbling withdrawn voice as he came closer to his son and placed his overbearing hand on the top of the chair, "this is our last chance..." he nodded his head and closed his eyes before standing back up straight and creating distance between him, "I can't have this go public...there are already too many rumours," he turned around and pushed his hand forward at him, "and to keep it this way is driving me bankrupt."

A beeping noise spawned in the room taking all three of the individuals off guard. Cassie placed both her hands on the edge of the table and pushed herself out followed by the process of fishing out her phone from her pants pocket. She nodded to the elder Batemen, "This will be a moment," she pulled up the black rectangular device and tapped the glass screen and held it up to the side of her head. Cassie headed to the corner of the small councillors room dragging her hand along the tanned wall paper and just underneath near metre sized photographs of past judges. Keeping her back to her clients while they discussed matters, Cassie came to a stop underneath the photo of a high standing, but having since past, female judge. A sudden look of sickness however came about as Cassie came to fully understand whom it was that contacted her.

"Cassie! Cassie!"

"No. No." She stated discontentedly as she nodded her head from side to side.

"Your client is guilty."

Cassie bit her lip, nodded her head and tapped the tip of her right foot on the hard floor, "Cassie?" Nightwing fell back in the inside compact design of the Blue Bird vehicle; one hand, fired up with blue electrical patterns up to his elbow, was placed forward grasping the near side handle bar that made up the throttle core of the vehicle with his other hand tapping to his ear in which the conversation was primarily taking place, "Cassie?" he tapped with an increasing rate and growing voice, "Bateman Jr.'s been pedalling the drugs for someone and probably keeping some for himself," Nightwing paused to regain some lost memory, "I think it may have something to do with the person who knocked me out."

"Knocked...?" Cassie returned with a shocked impression, "Todd, is that what happened? I called Mr. Wayne..." Cassie brought up her free hand around her face as she crouched further into the corner covering herself from the heated discussion occurring in the background, "Todd you could have told me your going out into the night! I was worried!"

"Why?" Nightwing retorted with earnest. His hands dropped from their positions and fell neatly to the side of his seat. On the other end, Cassie took a deep breath as her hands dropped also.

"Todd," Cassie began slowly as she shifted her gaze to the portrait above and admiring the gaze of the now long gong judge, "your my responsibility, I'm not going to let you, Diana, your mother's or even myself down.."

"They don't care!" Nightwing responded with cynicism crossing his arms across his chest, "No one's asking you to care."

"Sure they do, Todd. Don't say that!" Cassie stated with reassurance before rolling her eyes, "look, we can talk about this later..."

"I'm on my way..."

"Good."

"To meet you," Nightwing outstretched his arm to the throttle bars once more and pulled them towards himself, "I know something about the drugs in question that has quite become full public knowledge and I think you should read it and understand whats Bateman's all about," he said sincerely, "I'm tracking you now on GPS, should be there within twenty minutes..."

"Todd," Cassie became stern and uptight, "how do you know so much about this case."

Nightwing froze up in his seat looking from side to side and imagining little hammers bashing his head in while the baby face of the man aptly named 'The Attorney' jumped out of his broken remains, "Wayne was working on the case also..."

"It's a private session..."

"Hey, he's made a living out of these kinds of incidents."

"Go home. We can talk about it then." Cassie looked up when she felt the presence of a new individual entering the room through the single steel door. She looked the man up and down recognizing the buff man's officer of the court badge and neatly ironed white clothing with two individual black lines running up from his dark shoes to the end of his sleeves. Cassie nodded and and the man responded with a similar gesture, "I have to go...go home!" she pulled the phone down and firmly placed her thumb on the touch screen.

"No! Cassie!" a brief pause, "Cassie! Cassie!" he beckoned with a high pitch.

* * *

"Ah, funny little dreg." Todd stated as he took a few steps up the inner sidewalk and into the courtyard just outside the main court rooms of the city. He stumbled to take a look around attempting to get comfortable in the clothing that he has provided for himself in the Blue Bird. He had taken in a straight pair of black dress pants and a matching vest that button in three locations across his stomach. A collared long sleeved dress shirt with metallic fist cuff buttons. He also took into account that of which he would be walking in, the largish white shows with the red star and bracket banners that kept them in check; something of a signature wear in his opinion. He patted down the vest till he felt he was it was just right and thus began a search for a door inside.

The ground ahead of him was comprised of large foot by foot silver looking concrete tiles that made up a large percentage of the courtyard with the occasional concrete trough that housed a variety of trees and plant life. Todd took a moment to examine the tiles, seeing the reflection from the sun shining above and the thin layer of moisture that caused it to glisten; he fell into a trance when he was able to notice himself best of all but with a little nod he had decided things to be good and broke off from that thought completely. Looking towards the building while continuing his trek he admired the architecture of the court building, the pale yellow, near white, neo-Victorian design that had once dominated the late twentieth century; banners and ledges of stone layered the prime building components creating the structured concepts that were pleasing to eyes and developing concepts architectural prowess within the mind. Approaching it, he had noticed he was at the side of the building and that the shiny tiles continued beyond a circle of hedges that surrounded what looked like the edge of the building. He made his way up the stairs firmly clasping his hand on the steel black hand rail making it towards the tall two person high well waxed wooden doors decorated in indented squares absorbing the aesthetic appeal of the Victorian era. Todd placed his hand on the gold coloured handled and squeezed lightly on the trigger granting him access into the building. With a decent push forward he made headway in getting the heavy door open enough for him to cross through it and into the building.

Entering, he found himself in a long hallway which, like the outdoor flooring scheme, sparkled with the white linoleum tiles which contained a black diamond every metre all of which contained what seemed like little false gems that cause the delicate glow. The walls stood up with fashioned wood pillars built into the wall and held in between each one a small wooden desk with a portrait of some far off notable figure in full garb, "the hall of justice!" Todd exclaimed with a more than audible voice for he had not yet noticed that someone was near.

"Ahem."

"Wha...?" Todd turned around and recognized a glass desk was positioned to the side of the door evidently obscured from view of people entering since he had not noticed it upon entering. Sitting behind the desk was a slender brunette woman whom wore what looked like a black one piece which Todd could not reason as being particularly comfortable. He face was sullen but her lips were bulging and her eyes were large and mysterious though he could only fathom now that they were full of annoyance.

"Can I help you," she shook her head rapidly but within a small circumference and spoke in a less than sweet sarcasm. Her movements came to a stop and she bowed her head down and looked across at the baffled Todd whom was turning around to face her in a polite manner.

"I suppose," Todd said as he ventured closer, "I'm look for my aunt, Cassie Sandsmark... any way you could tell me where she is at?"

The woman nodded her head and swivelled on the grey cushioned four wheeled chair before pushing her dainty hands forward onto the glass desk and pressing firmly upon its surface. Todd watched in a puzzled amusement as the glass desk top began to light up with colours of the built in computer console. She ran her hand through the files that seemed to come up, a long list of names and various abstract colours that looked like buttons and pictures. Her hands roamed before finally coming to stop on one particular button which she proceed to place both her hands on, "private session," she began once more in her dry wit, "No media," she looked up at Todd.

"Come on," he said, "How would I know she would be working a private case if I wasn't her nephew?"

She nodded impolitely and proceeded to scan through the text that comprised the file displayed on the desktop. Todd waited patiently till the full disclosure of Cassie's whereabouts hit him head on.

* * *

Todd followed through on the directions given to him: straight down the hallway, turn at entrance way A-7 and the second door on the right. He held tightly to his personal communicator, a white blue lined rectangular device less than a centimetre in thickness, he sifted through the files on it rereading and reassuring himself of what Wayne had told and given him. A short distance from the small courtroom doors Todd came to notice a brutish figure that seemed to stand two times his size even from the near ten metre distance. He was a darker skinned gentle giant with a slimming black suit with white lines tapering from his red collar down to the cuffs of his pant legs. He sported a bald head that only made the flabbiness of his cheeks more menacing along with the thick squaring edge sunglasses that hung upon them.

Todd took a few steps in the man's directions noticing that he held a prestigious position in keeping all and every person from getting inside the courtroom immediately behind the door. The man reshuffled his feet, spreading them out wide then clasping his left hand over top of his right wrist therefore instilling within the mind of the young boy that he meant business. "I'm..." Todd started but slowed down to a whisper, "looking for my Aunt, she's in there?" he spoke up as he raised a finger to wag at the door behind the giant figure.

"There is no media permitted. Government regulations stated in section..."

"No no," Todd pulled his hands to his chest and waved them across signalling the negative, "I'm serious, I'm her nephew...she turned off her phone and...well I guess that explains closed media?" he leaned onto one foot looking around the thick thigh of the oppressor, "has the session started yet?" he asked in earnest, "If you...or I could just call her perhaps...I need to see her!" he looked up with teary eyes and holding up his own cellular device to the man.

* * *

"Alright, are we all good and ready?" Cassie stated as she once again took to patting her over coat to a calm comfortable feel when taking her seat behind the pale canvas draped table within the small court room. To the outer side of the walls where no windows could be found sat her clients whom features became all blurred in the bright florescent lights above. She nodded in their direction and awaited a response or a gesture but instead received an empty glare from their shallow tired eyes. She turned to look across at her opposition, the district attorney, angry over the fact that he could still not take the case public but all the same still held a smile upon his broad shoulders in the finest of garments with flattering young female assistant whom he conversed with eagerly with laughter and playful patronizing comments. His skin was well tanned, his smile clean and well formed; his body and mind had simply been made as the poster image in the design of legal system, no matter what age he would reach he had made it clear that he was more than capable of taking the challenges that the city could bring to his desk.

The courtroom was unlike the ones found in shows or cases involving the most notable of figures, it was long and narrow containing only the two canvas laid desks for defensive and prosecuting councils separating by an aisle that further declined into a series of four pews that continued to the door to their backs. At the front though the design became more complex and similar, a larger wooden coated table that possessed a front that produced an interesting collective of wooden pillars that, in appearance only, held up the top. Another white clad guard, an officer of the court, stood behind it to attention, never moving and conveying so emotional presence over the case's circumstances.

"Sandsmark," the booming voice of the outdoor guard spoke as he pushed aside the steel door and headed into the bleak courtroom atmosphere, "there is someone here to see you...says he's your nephew."

"Oh not now! Let him in." Cassie stated as the occupants of the court stared in the direction of a baffling Todd whom came in waving and smiling awkwardly. He attempted to get up through the aisle to get to Cassie but a singing base line from the courtroom megaphone system in the roof stopped him in his tracks. He became puzzled suddenly when Cassie, along with her clients and today's opposition rose suddenly. Todd carted himself down the pew two rows behind the front where Cassie stood; it appeared to him then that he would not be able to tell Cassie of the acquired information.

The officer of the court turned to face the doorway behind the desk and proceeded to press a code into the inscription keys to unlock it from their side. He then re-assumed his position making space for a taller more genial gentleman to make his introduction coming out from the blackness of the room behind and into the courtroom and its artificial lighting. The judge, as he appeared to be, stepped forward wearing a standard straight black suit, a buttoned up jacket that reached down to the lowest parts of his thighs as well as having a strong band collar that reached to nearly his ears and possessed a white loose, long string bow tie. He wasn't strong in the muscular understanding, but was certainly conveyed mental veracity and watched upon the standing occupants with square eyes with wrinkles of wisdom.

The judge pulled towards him the large dark desk and waved his hand nonchalantly gesturing for the occupants of the room to take their seats once more. Todd continued to stand amused as well as confused; Cassie turned to face him and with a disgruntled look raised her hand to insinuate that Todd should be sitting down. His eyes lit up and he dropped abruptly onto the pew chair letting out a small sarcastic laugh as he positioned himself comfortably on the seating provided.

"Alright then," the judge started with a uneven deep stern voice. He shuffled himself up close to the desk and looked at the defence client and then to the attorney, "this case has been pulled up several times already D.A. Schiefen, I bear witness to perhaps more pressing matters on a daily basis but if you insist this to be of requiring yours and my time so be it." He nimbly pulled up a brown paper folder and immediately began to sift through its contents. He stared down at the attorney, " I have very little interest in the media theatrics that you so desire."

"Yes your honour," the Schiefen responded with the humble well strengthened voice that gained him support from his public.

"Well, what have you to bear upon this case that is unlike your previous attempts?"

"Yes," the attorney grasped hold of a thin centimetre high pad from the metal table he was seated at and immediately stood up, pad up front in his strong hand, heading towards the judges raised desk. Kindly and with a respectful manner, the placed the pad slanted upward on the judge's desk so that he may view the the glass screen and briefly read and understand the contents that shone through it, "as you can see your honour," he continued in his upstanding gentleman's voice, "some vital information has fallen onto my desk; Cirius is not a normally subscribed over the counter drug, when taken in extreme amounts the drug becomes a more illicit substance with side effects ranging from rage, aggression, paranoia and schizophrenic behaviour. It is clear," he proceed to flip his free hand down the screen to scroll to a more important part of the document, "that the amounts that Jacob Bateman was receiving were in that amount range," he shoved his hand to the side and aimed it towards the defence desk where a tired young younger Bateman's body shook slightly out of control with nervousness, "If he was not pedalling the drug then he was most certainly addicted; though since his blood content level is inconclusive, the acquired drugs have not been located or admitted to, and there is no way he could successfully ingested the drugs without causing such blood work to be noticed then we could logically assume that he was pedalling."

Todd face drew a blank following the conclusion of the argument of the District Attorney; he attempted to think of a different situation in which he could transmit his knowledge to his aunt, perhaps through telepathy or manual written slips of paper he could throw at her in crumpled balls, but when it came to action outside of though he simply froze in his chair and accepted that he had failed his mission; however, as these thoughts continued he could not help but shift the blame upon her reasoning that perhaps she deserves it, why should someone who preaches peace and morality among the common people be allowed to get away with saving someone whom is so guilty?

"Miss. Sandsmark," the judge leaned around the tall standing attorney and looked the caring blonde in the eyes, "do you have anything to say in defence of these allegations."

"Yes your honour," she stood up and walked into the aisle and headed towards the attorney whom grumbled as he pulled the pad close to his chest and then let it hand loose to the side of his body making way for the opposing lawyer to take her stance shoulder to shoulder, "what reason could my client possibly need with whatever the drugs offer but its medication?"

"This has been brought up before," the judge responded sharply as he stared down at the notes, "just because he is a son of a reigning mayor does not immediately imply that he is rich, especially if he is addicted."

"His blood work was inconclusive, you've made that clear yourself," she turned to glare at the attorney whom began to flinch under her gaze, "this is new information to the case and I call for time to be permitted to process it your Honour."

The judge brought his right hand to his mouth and mumbled lowly under his breath, "how new is this information D.A. Schiefen?"

"Early hours of this morning your Honour. The drugs are being stripped from their provision centres as we speak."

"Miss. Sandsmark," he turned to her, "you were aware of this information," she stared blankly at him, "must I remind you that you are an officer of the court,"

"No your Honour," she brought her neck to her chest and then coughed briefly, "I was aware of the information your Honour, but was unable to place it in the proper context for this case."

"I see," the judge stated with sternness, "very well, I grant you two days," he looked across at the court house officer and nodded. He turned to face the D.A. Schiefen, "if this goes in anyway public I will dismiss this case without prejudice and I will ensure that it stays that way, understood?" The D.A. Nodded and gulped as he pulled away from the Judge's desk.

Todd breathed a sigh of relief, all was not lost he could continue the mission that Wayne had given him. Now that there was a fighting chance that Cassie could win, perhaps with some intervention from the Mr. Wayne, then his mission could go on successfully. Perhaps though, he could come to understand first why Cassie would be so willing to help a guilty man and on the basis of such a conclusion and maybe will himself to leave her before her influence upon him becomes to strong for him to bare.

* * *

"Why are you angry at me?" Todd asked pulling his hands to his chest. Todd and Cassie entered the apartment room door and she immediately dropped her briefcase on the inside of her office door; silent as ever, she made her way to the kitchen straight down the hallway, "you didn't have to pull that silent act all the way home, we're in a homely environment now, you must talk to me!" he grew louder towards the end of his own argument.

Cassie came to a stop at the entrance way and began to unbutton her jacket and outer long sleeve blouse, "Todd," she began with a slow withdrawn emotion never looking back at the puzzled boy standing awkwardly in the hallway near the desk of pictures, "I was worried all of this morning, you could have been hurt, kidnapped or worse for all I know and you didn't even leave any sign that you had left, you just disappeared," Todd's body began to buckle as his mouth fell open in a depressed emotive gesture, "this job is something I care very much about," she turned her head inward towards the centre of the entrance way to take a look back at the boy, "but I care for you a lot more, as your family now, you always will be." She turned her whole body to face him, he outer shirt hanging loosely over her shoulder revealing her inner figure. She raised her hand and waved it in dissatisfaction as she gained the attention of the smaller standing boy, "and don't tell me that you didn't ask for us to care, we do," She turned to face back into the kitchen area and proceeded to make her way further into it.

Todd stood blankly in the hallway turning to face the desk and examined the pictures carefully seeing the wide arrangements of notable figures whom he was just beginning to understand completely. He held up a picture of his mother whom was casually hugging Cassie presumably after she had passed her Bar exam; he began to wonder whether or not she actually cared as much as Cassie had imposed.

"I'm sorry," Todd stated with sincerity disguised as sarcasm as he shook his head and hands walking into the kitchen area at the end of the entrance hallway. He looked across at Cassie whom leaned against the frame of the entrance way into the dining room and extensive entertainment room, "but I don't even understand the context of you taking the case of the villain!" he continued.

"What do you mean villain?" Cassie responded in a negative tone, "Mr. Bateman is an outstanding man and prominent member of this community."

"Yes, but his son was pedalling drugs..." Todd appeared dazed and shocked, "I don't understand what you're doing, you're supposed to be the good guy, the person whom protects the innocent but instead your grovelling up to the mayor. He giving you anything?" Cassie appeared unmoved, "You're the superhero, from what I've heard a fine one too, but I don't see you dropping this lawyer charade and taking proper justice to the streets which is getting this Bateman off of them."

"You!" Cassie responded in a slight anger, "Shut up!" Her eyebrows popped up. She turned around towards the dining table and walked on by it towards a large couch in the near distance. Todd curved his head around and watched as she furthered herself into the depth of the larger living area of the apartment. Stepping in line, he followed her direct path crossing the hardwood flooring that held up the table and around it to a large rectangular shaped area that must have covered the entirety of one side of the apartment with the one of the closer walls of Cassie office being located to one side intruding upon the otherwise perfect rectangle. The walls had been painted a fine light green, near white, which matched the darker green furniture outline of couches that surround a three sides to the outer most wall that contained against it a large thin television screen that had a thin layer of dust seemingly having been used for some time. The carpeted floor was bushy and white and Todd soaked it in as much as possible, it was as though Cassie had never actually lived in this area, it was much to simple and much to clean; no books or loose ends laying around, it was as though this kind of place was put on for show.

"I guess you don't really live here much," Todd stated as he watch Cassie come to a stop just behind the backside of the main centre couch. She turned to face the boy, placing her hands on the top of the sofa and leaning up against it.

"I always thought that when I was out here alone, I'd really get the opportunity to live the way I wanted," she started sincerely, "but it never really took off, I kept putting things off to the right moment but those moments never came." She paused and appeared frazzled looking away from him, "No Todd, all I know is law; law is in the books a verifiable source that this establishment has generated with the best interests of the people." She looked across at him squarely, "It's the best democracy can afford to us, we lose what has supported this country for hundreds of years and we've lost everything dear to us."

"No," Todd shook his head while muttering under his breath, "I refuse to believe that," he said looking up at her with a sincere voice. "Law is not something that can be found in your books, your papers and written source; court decisions don't matter, the law is inherent to this world, we just have to find it. I thought that was at least what we were fighting for when we risk ourselves out there nightly," He waved his hand uncontrollably at the large glass window that stood off centre to the dining table; though of what could be viewed of the outdoors was another matter with the neighbouring town complexes.

"What world do you people from caves think your living in?" Cassie commented reaffirming a stance away from the sofa support, "consider the greatest of Batman's villains, do they inherently have the same reasoning of law and order? Or have they sought to making a reasoning of their own that best serves their own interests?"

Todd nodded his head once more in dissatisfaction, "No, they're delusional."

"Todd, we can't rely on a hit and miss system when it comes to governing, we find something that is acceptable to the majority, like bringing those who are guilty to judgement of his peers, we reinforce those values which have made this nation so strong. We need to make this world better through our actions and that does not entail the tearing down of the respected values we all decided upon when we voted."

"Why would you help a guilty person," Todd spoke with a seldom used emotion.

"Well that's a stronger moral question," Cassie responded with a sigh as she pulled her hands to her waist, "I'd like to believe that all people deserve a chance to start anew," she stated looking up at Todd and then proceeded to lean casually against the couch spreading out the length of her long arms across the sofa top, "I know the younger Bateman's in a lot of trouble, but there's a big difference between pedalling drugs and being addicted. His acts come out of desperation, he needs help not the corrective justice you find in the prisons you so keen on placing all whom break the 'natural' law of human kind."

"We'll just build bigger prisons," Todd responded unsure of his complete understanding.

Cassie stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled, "perhaps in time, during your stay with me, maybe you'll be able to make some value judgements for yourself rather than just take whatever the cave kind dictate," she gained his attention watching him raise his head to look at her towering image, "All perfect men sound right and innocent until someone else comes along and questions him." She stepped around him and headed back into the kitchen area, "now then, are you hungry? I've got a large case load to work on so the next two days are going to be pretty tight on how much time I can spend outside the office."

Todd contemplated the thoughts swirling in his head uncertain of where the divisible lines of ideology between the conflicting family of the cave and family of the island women. "Preach peace, act violent," he mumbled quietly with his back still turned to his new mother like figure, "prove peace through violence..." he stared blankly into space, "no, why?" he gulped as he turned to face Cassie whom came to a pause in the middle of the are with a puzzled look and hands casually at her thighs, "when do you get involved?"

"What do you mean," she stood puzzled, "I'm always involved in my cases."

"No like, heroically involved," Todd commented with a new found enthusiasm for his thinking, "when do you get involved in the action. When the reasonable violence becomes necessary to uphold the law?"

"Todd," she responded letting her hands fall to her sides, "I hope that one day violence will no longer be the answer to these problems. Your leader used to believe that, his fight entailed that one day he would no longer need to exist," Todd fell aback at this realization, "though" she continued in a sincere voice, "I don't think that's the case no longer, this new generation of heroes that you have suddenly become a part of, your beginning to see your actions as fighting for your right to exist when really it should be the other way around; the epiphany that my colleagues and I came to when we were your age."

"The fight never ends though," Todd stated with dissatisfaction, "that's what he always told us."

"Why though?" Cassie responded reaffirming her position of authority on these matters, "this is exactly the problem, my generation, like the past, have forgotten what they've learnt from all their years of experience; how can anyone be expected to bare the weight of the city for the entirety of their life? I do my part in court so that young adults like yourself are free to live as you please and not be brainwashed by authorities that believe their way is law."

"I like Mr. Wayne though," Todd responded with his thinking slowly shutting down under the pressure of the conversation, "he's done a lot for his city."

"Yes he has," Cassie responded shaking her head in confirmation, "he's a good man but he lived in a past era; he's becoming the example of an endless battle that sucks the life out of anyone whom dare compete in it. Worse though, he enforces it. Todd you weren't the first person to come under his influence; even had his own son compete for him. It seems to me then that the only way out of this kind of life is death and I'm fed up with dealing with it."

Todd nodded acknowledging the time had come for him to be silent. A beeping noise on two second intervals began to emanate from Cassie's pants pocket. She immediately looked down at the rectangular bulge and proceeded to fish it out from there and pulling it to the side of her head, "yes?" A smile shot up on Todd face as she came to understand the content of the phone call, "alright, I'll be there in under a half hour," Cassie looked up at a bemused Todd as she placed the phone back in her pocket and proceeded to pull together he blouse once more buttoning it to firmness, "I've been called to the judge's chambers."

* * *

Cassie stood once more at the side of the imposing district attorney, "I apologize for calling you both back in so early," the judge began in a monotone voice conveying a lack of seriousness. He sat down in a comfortable head high red cushioned swivel chair behind a classically furnished wooden desk that was unlike the rest of the sold steel coloured room lacking in windows and primarily composed of book shelves that lacked any proper use but decor since all the cases the judge has accumulated had fallen upon a form of technology that everyone had become fond of. Contents trapped within a glass flat screen on his desk, the judge placed his hand firmly and scrolled down through the files, "a new fact has come upon my desk and warrant some proper investigation."

Bateman and his son stood awkwardly behind the attorney and their lawyer, shaking and twitching both out of fear and tiredness; it had been some time since either had found some sleep that wasn't conflicted with the impending events. "It would appear that the case has become a public affair," the judge continued as he flipped the flat screen board on his desk to face the two court councillors, "A Miss Vale visited me this afternoon and had this to say," he insinuated the text on the screen, "apparently the source is a nice young woman in your office D.A. Schiefen," he smiled and fell back in his chair and let the digital pad hit the the desk top, "I believe I saw her at the court room this morning, where perhaps could she be right now?"

The district attorney shook his head with dissatisfaction, "I'll refile," he bluntly commented.

"No I don't think you will, not with this trite situation your office has got you in," the judge replied sternly placing the tips of his fingers together, "elections are coming up and you best be focused on giving your candidate some real support. Furthermore, I suggest your prepare yourself more modestly lest the people begin to disfavour you over your more than overzealous actions when your election time comes across."

"Well, I can go public," his eyes shot up as his mind sifted into looking for something of beneficial.

"As an official and agent of 'justice'. About what exactly do you see going public here?" the judge scoffed with an unshared enthusiasm, "case dismissed."

* * *

Todd sat on a transparent seated metal footed chair on the outside of the Judge's chambers and found it most difficult to get comfortable in it finding the shape, which seemed like a hollowed out pear missing the fore most front side, to be noticeable produced to accommodate all sizes of people but since he was of a small frame he did feel that it truly did 'accommodate' all persons of all sizes. He looked down the wooden trim that rose a metre above the ground and extended down the large hallway stopping at every door including the judge's chambers. People, most certainly of different sizes and personalities, walked by him not giving him a second's glance all busy in their duties to support the institutions that their forefathers had created with the express purpose of letting them live freely.

A disgruntled district Attorney burst through the Judge's doors, a quick glance down at the young man staring up at him only seemed to assure him of his loss today. He was quick to clamber off into the hallway, shoulders hunched, with nothing but thoughts to keep him up.

At a much more slower and excited pace, the tall blond warrior and her now uplifted clients crossed through the door frame and into the hallway free of the penance stare of judgement. Todd pushed his leg forward and raised his hands above his head to stretch as he prepared to get up and greet Cassie properly. Signs of relief crossed the faces of her clients but of her face, there painted a different story and Todd immediately recognized this the moment he stood up and drew himself closer to them.

"Oh, Mr. Bateman, this is my nephew Todd," Cassie said as she signalled the introduction with her hands, "I'm taking care of him currently."

"Ahh, excellent," Mr. Batemen said affectionately with a smile while enthusiastically shaking the Todd's outstretched hand, "the youth of today and all that," he turned to look at Todd, "the future is in the hands of our youth. Best of luck to both of you," he smiled in Cassie's direction and she nodded with a confirmed conclusion to their arrangements.

The younger Bateman in turn with his father leaned and greeted the young boy, "ou," a sharp bit of pain pierced his hand and shook through his bones. His huddled appearance became shaken as he drew back from the confused looking Todd. He shook his hand with discomfort.

"My apologies," Todd said reaching his strength and waving his hands forward in a kind gesture, "I suppose I misjudged my own strength."

Cassie frowned down at him before turning her attention to the humble Bateman, "I hope well for you in the coming election process," Cassie stated while shaking his hand, "If there's anything I can do for you further, my office is always open."

"Thank you kindly," he carried on with a serious demeanour. Quickly and efficiently, the older and the younger huddled up their thick coated jackets and proceeded to take steps down the hallways producing the light echoing tapes of boots as they conversed about the situation at hand and perhaps any sort of treatment that the younger would require to avoid this form of entanglement for the rest of his existence.

Todd turned to face Cassie, her face was sullen, her eyes became shot; she was seemingly less than the beauty she had conveyed through her life, she let out a brief sigh and looked down upon, "What did you do?"

"What," Todd popped a single eyebrow, "I haven't done anything."

"Nothing like this just disappears in a single afternoon," Cassie responded turning her attention to the hallway and looking around for a particular brooding figure, "no, the only people who had inside information about this case were the client, the D.A. and myself," she folded her arms and looked down disdainfully at Todd whom immediately began to cower underneath her presence, "then there's yourself and Mr. Wayne, why I wouldn't be surprised if he has connections to just about every District Attorney's office in the nation." She looked up and picked out a particular figure, whom immediately understood her focused state of mind and decided to take the initiative on it and make himself privy to her, "Mr. Wayne..."

The tall broad shoulder individual came to a stop in front of them, his head shining of silver and wisdom in the wide spreading light of the court room's hallway; the stares in his eyes created a sense of wisdom and experience beyond that of Cassie but his smile betrayed the playfulness of the situation that he had mastermind, "Miss Sandsmark, congratulations on the win."

"It always helps to know there's a hand on the inside," she paused to ponder, "at least one that interferes for your side."

The once presiding Judge then made his way out of his chambers and immediately came to recognize Wayne, "Hello Bruce," he said with a kind smile pulling his hands close together, "it's so great that you could take a moment to stop by, it's been some time since we last met in person."

Cassie immediately backed away from the two imposing gentleman as they prepared for a lengthy conversation that even she was willing to admit to herself was outside her comprehension level.

While it appeared that the two had distanced themselves into their respective shared world, Wayne was just detached long enough to pause and turn his attention toward Todd, "don't you have a job to take care of young man," and with that he was sooner off down the hallway with the Judge leaving Todd to nod in a moment of clarity and Cassie to stand in one way baffled and in another way angered over the actions being done behind her back from the figures she believed would have respected her position in the courts of law. She turned down to face Todd whom was staring down at the ground thinking of the task ahead.

"What was that about Todd?"

"I have to go, there's something I need to take care of."

"This case isn't really over is it?" she placed her hands firmly on her waist, "I don't believe it," the words came with the shaking of her head, "I could have won this case on my own merits Todd; you and your colleagues there think you all rule the system, that it caters to your needs."

"We save lives," Todd responded, "I don't see that happening much in a courtroom!"

* * *

"Well, she seemed pretty angry when I left her."

"I can certainly see why."

Nightwing sat on the ledge of ten story cream coloured clay plastered building which stood out of place among the high rising steel and glass structures that dominated the city scape; the personality of the area was rugged and dirty with only the flimsy distant emotions of the occupants walking among it to give it company. Nightwing watched the vehicles as they hovered along the narrow streets, darting in and out all with their own initiative but never conflicting with one another. "let's get the bio-vision started already," Nightwing stated while pulling his head to his shoulder and pushing himself up with his arms so as to get his feet to balance on the ledge, "The night is rolling in, the tracers have probably taken into effect and we've only got a short window to take care of this."

The vision in his visor turned suddenly to a bright blue, near teal, which exhibited the personality of the city once more but instead broke it down to its skeletal structure: buildings of stone and steal shared their true form as being held up by multiple beams working in cooperation with one another and then the people people seemed to move with intensive strength and determination making their bones move one after another. Nightwing turned his head towards a the modern glass building to his side and quickly zeroed in on the green patch in one of the upper rooms. He nodded his head slowly in affirmation, "that's him," he fell back onto the roof and crouched down requiring his elbows to keep his head up on the ledge that he once sat upon.

"So I guess I just don't understand any more Proxy," Nightwing stated with hushed tones, "I mean do you think we do what we do because we have a moral obligation to do it? And if that is true are we actually making things worse by solving all the world's problems with our fists?" he paused in mid though uncertain of where the question really originated from, "perhaps I am really depriving myself of a more truer better life..."

"I'm afraid I don't understand the context, are you concerned that you draw the crowd of villains because your own existence?"

"No, it's not that," Nightwing planted his right fist hard onto the metal banister of the ledge, "no, it's just I've been thinking that maybe we're heading in the wrong direction with what we do, that perhaps the normal people will become too reliant upon us that they'll maybe stop bringing life jackets on boats or putting airbags in vehicles or something...that's all I think I understand when Cassie talks to me, that maybe our heroics alone can't be the single factor in making the world better, we all need to work together...but that's just weird though, isn't it?"

"Well, I don't think it will ever get that far, but there is quite a bit of historic background into this subject, one that that the hero community has certainly dealt with since Superman became prominent."

"How do you figure?"

"Todd, why do you think it is that the full abilities of your suit have not been unlocked to your use?"

"Huh?" Nightwing shot up straightening his back, "I thought you said it was because Mr. Wayne thought I would abuse it's capabilities..."

"How would that make sense? What if you were harmed when you could have used one of those abilities to escape?"

"I don't know," he palmed his right hand to the side of his face and shook, "maybe he's got someone on speed dial to pick me up. Batgirl always seems to be available..."

"No, it's because he doesn't want you to be reckless."

"What?"

"Young people with powers and abilities like yourself tend to get overly reckless in the field because you come to believe that your abilities make you more invulnerable to pain than everyone else, but that isn't and should never be the case; the suit doesn't make the person a hero, the person in of himself, his own merits, does."

"OK..." Nightwing trailed off.

"It seems to me that Cassie doesn't want you to have to deal with what she did growing up as a young hero. She knows whats out there and whats happening, how could she allow that to happen to anyone else?"

"But what about me though? Could I be missing out on a better life where none of that happens?"

"You're out there tonight because you choose to be that hero, there is no obligation; the moment you choose to put the Nightwing costume on was the moment you choose to be a hero in your own right."

Nightwing nodded affectionately to himself finally coming to terms with the thoughts that had been invading his consciousness. "I think he's on the move," the entirety of his attention focused upon the green splotched that walked like the other skeletal shaped humans as it seemed to enter a shaft that carried him from his floor to the bottom. Nightwing's head curved as his vision followed the green coded occupant to the ground floor, "I'm seeing something else, three cars just started up the moment he walked outside," Nightwing leaned over the ledge with one foot forward, "He's being tailed."

"Might be police activity, the D.A. may have set something up, catch him in the act so that he could reopen his case."

"No," Nightwing responded firmly, "I don't think so. I'm pretty sure I know who these people are," Nightwing stood up, both feet on the ledge, and immediately retracted the wings from under his arms, "I'm going to start tailing Bateman. Keep me informed if the police do get involved."

* * *

Nightwing glided down the asphalt rooftop and stumbled into a roll. Regaining composure, he shook the pain off and proceeded to make quick movements to the ledge of the building all while keeping his back as low to the roof top as possible; it was a dark night, but not dark enough that he would not be seen stories below. He popped his head down below and examined the four story structure; an old building, perhaps a heritage site, built up with classical brick and mortar but certainly has had some refurbishing since it was built for not a scratch or indent in the craft could be spotted. All the windows were small but evenly spaced with one another and the brick layout circling around it making an outer window sill of bricks facing outward towards the city. "Now why would Bateman want to come to the more seedier side of town?" Nightwing stated with evident sarcasm as he leaned in further to get a better look at his target, "the tracers are beginning to wear off; I hope this is the stop off."

"You and Mr. Wayne really think he'll go back to the supplier after all this?"

"He's an addict," Nightwing responded with a stern and commanding voice, "now that his drug medication has been taken off the counter he's going to be going back to the source of the drug; he had to be pedalling the drugs for someone while taking a hit for himself. I bet you this new Doctor Death owns this place." Nightwing watched as the green splotch representing his target became an item underneath him inside the building. The coding effect began to wear off and soon he found that Bateman had become a blurry skull among the background of blue and near black metal spires that held the large rectangular box of building upward, "I think I'm seeing quite a few people in here, its hard to tell with this point of view...everything just kind of blends in, might be a quite a bright light source in there," Todd clicked a button on the centre of his utility belt and almost immediately the bio-vision dropped and he was back to viewing the world as it was to everything else, "I'm going in."

"Be careful, if Wayne and you are correct on this then Doctor Death already knows we're on to him."

Nightwing immediately began to crawl down to the inner ledge of the indented window below him; feet first, he came to steady himself poorly on the outdoor sill. Finding the window to be a solid pane, he decided it was in his best interested to try breaking it and proceeded to do so channelling the force of his strength into his first, "ou!" he shouted but immediately drew back into a hush tone.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," Nightwing responded when he noticed that there was a latch at the bottom of the door that seemed to blend into the window and the sill. He placed a hand on it and jolted it upward quickly and pushed the window inward; placing his hand on the inside he pulled himself into the building and prepared himself mentally for the task ahead.

* * *

"See what's happen znow?" a light German accented voice boomed and echoed in the two story high room that served as an atrium of sorts for the building, "first I go into hiding and now I have to restart my work elsewhere."

"I didn't give them anything," the young Batman responded with a long drawled out voice, "I don't know what happened...someone must have looked at the drug more closely than you anticipated."

"But you!" the man turned around to face and point at him.

"This isn't my fault," Bateman leaned inward, his green jacket collar covering the lower part of his face showcasing the tired purple appeal of his eyes.

"Oh, but I think it is," the man responded with an angered delight, "there would be no reason to search the drug if it wasn't for your run in with the law. I needed you for your links but now I see no others seeking to help me. I was trying to run a legitimate business!" he enunciated, "now I'm back in the sewers."

"Well," Bateman's head wobbled, "you picked the wrong product..." he paused and held his eyes shut for a moment to long, "I need more..."

"Oh, well of course, anything for my best customer..." the man's arms shot out with sarcastic enthusiasm. He was a rather tall and lean person wearing a white jacket that stretched down just short of his legs and remained in such a perfect state with a series of grey straps. The sleeves headed down beyond his wrists where he wore black gloves that seemingly connected to the shirt and possibly pants that he wore underneath the jacket, "unfortunately, I've needed to destroy most of my stockpiles, a certain degree of menace whom I was hoping to avoid has caught on...I had to dispose of one whom broke into my office the other evening...now I have to leave before his friends find me." To top of this mad scientist apparel was a two bottle bronzed gas mask that took up the entirety of his head revealing minimal facial features but his deep black sullen eyes surrounded by a blemish-less white stained skin. "This was not meant for the good Doctor Mr. Bateman, not what we had agreed upon."

"Your all I have now," Bateman responded once more with the drawling, uncaring emotion that came to describe him.

"Yes," the doctor headed further into the room and motioned his hand to the side darkness. Almost immediately the room shot up with light revealing a large metal structure that reached to the ceiling and seemingly beyond the net two floors above and was pulled less than two metres forward from the wall behind it. It was one metallic plated box upon another composed of various lights that signified the contents of its materials at the ready and then final products when it came to completed. To adjacent broad side were the dominate glass structures that reached a full size man's height, of the four there, one was full of a of a smog, a thick yellow colour that almost reached a grey, while the others remained clear. From them were connected the large diameter blue hoses that hooked up to the machine. Taking up at least one third of the otherwise spotless white gymnasium sized room, it was difficult not to look at the large contraption and analyze every detail and question its purpose, "It wasn't easy getting all these parts, the technology even in this day and age is beyond us, even then though with a project such as this, the monstrosity of this machine would probably still be required."

"What does it do?"

"That my friend," the Doctor continued with the sarcastic grin, "is Soul. The materials of which do not combine as easily as one would hope, I did the work that perfected it into Cirius...but now I have the machine reverting to a more base practice. I have it reformatting into a aerosol form," he signalled the glass containers, "the only way to get your precious medication now would be to inhale it."

"What are you doing!" Bateman's voice shot up as he ran to the glass containers, hands up and ready to steady himself up close; however, he came to sudden stop when to large thugs in white one strip uniforms made appearances and placed there hardened hands on the poor young man. Losing his balance, Bateman fell to the floor and looked up at the bright light seeing the shadowy state of his enormous oppressors.

"I hope you don't mind, I've had to hire some more questionable help."

"But I need this...how am I going to carry some gas?"

"I'm sorry, but this business is collapsing, you're going to have to get your medication elsewhere."

* * *

To one side of the large room was a strip of windows connecting from one side to another, "that's an interesting contraption they got going on down there," the windows were rather small reaching about a foot in height but coming in less than a four more in length and being divided by two foot beams, "what was this place used for before I should up?" Nightwing beckoned as he placed his hands on one the windows closes to the centre; if anyone was to look in his direction all they would be capable of seeing were his hands and a bit of his head.

"A recreational centre, mostly used for live shows. Not surprising that its running anymore. What are you seeing?"

"Some sort of weird science fictiony thing...lot of lights, metal plating and glass tubes...things huge," Nightwing responded while pulling his hands from the window and then waving them in a circular pattern to emphasis the colossal size of the experimental structure below. "Ah..."

"Whats wrong?"

Nightwing repositioned himself closer to the glass so that he could at least see what was coming from the main door below him. A small recognizable shrewish figure immediately moved in along with have a dozen tall hulking men in black jackets and white collars, "well, the elder one has arrived...thought that's who was tailing him..." Nightwing stood back for a second and let his jaw drop, "what a caring parent," he muttered under his breath unsure of whether such was sarcastic or meaningful.

* * *

"Son, please I want to help you," Mr. Bateman stepped forward while two of his apparent body guards attempted to subdue him with their thick biceps, "it's alright, this is my son now. I've come to protect him," he assured them as they let him go to greet his son, "who is this man?" a shocked expression came over him as he saw the reflection of himself in the Doctor's goggles. He drew closer to the doctor looking at him and his own son.

One of the white suited gentlemen behind the machine stepped forward, a lean individual but none the less packing a punch as he pulled up and began to wield a pistol in the direction of the elder Bateman. This caused quite a stir amongst the body guards whom hurriedly armed themselves as more white suited people came from the working frame of the metal contraption and its accompanying glass idolatry. The Doctor nodded his head from side to side while bringing his hands together across his chest and backing up towards a console one side of the machine. "If a fuss is to happen, perhaps it is in all your interests that I turn off the machine?" he said coldly.

"Nightwing, listen; you should let the situation cool down..."

"Not now proxy, they're pulling arms on each other; I've got to do something," Nightwing immediately jumped into action pulling away from the window and further back into the high rise room he was in so that he may find a way to the ground floor and make his presence known and stop what might happen.

"No, we don't want any trouble here," Mr. Bateman heroically lifted his arms and padded the air back down to insinuate to his guards to drop their weaponry but they stubbornly refused as near ten of the Doctor's lab assistants, all bringing their weapons to the party, began to make their presence public.

"I know exactly whom you are Mr. Mayor," the Doctor responded, "but I have no desire to be found out now, your son was a mere exception of the time."

"I won't tell no one," Mr. Bateman responded gently, "just let me take my son and you can continue on."

"No Dad," Patrick Bateman stepped forward and straightened from his hunching position, "I need what he has for me."

"Have you not listened!" the German accent became thicker in the shearing strength of his voice, "there is to be nothing left!"

"Then make some!" Patrick reasserted himself, "I'm paying!" his jaw clenched up while the body guards and lab technicians began to raise the panic bar within them.

The Doctor waved his hand at the glass tubes which began to slowly fill up with the foggy texture that dominated the first and foremost one. He turned to face the young man while he stated this, "I have no plans but to destroy!" he spoke up and freely, "look what you've done to my business." He then turned his focus attention to the father, "I don't think you can simply just walk away from this," the elder man began to crunch up in a fear far overshadowing whatever all qualms that had been lost when his case to win his son back was a success.

"I don't see a lot of cooler head prevailing here..."

"Ah! It's you again!" The Doctor's voice shrieked up as he turned to face the metal panels above the graphical console and noticed the familiar black with blue bird chest logo. Nightwing had slid down the side and firmly grasped on hand upon a hand build into the side of the metal box; his other hand roamed freely as he enunciated his words with actions.

"So we have met. See I was led to believe that you were dead."

"You people," he clenched his hands into fists, "You just can't leave me alone!" he turned away and placed his hands back on the console board that was connected to the side of the machine. He held tightly onto to two separate levers, "Now before this becomes to difficult for any of you I need to be sure that this thing doesn't kill us all." But as the triggers went down the building flickered in light causing the occupants to look up at the ceiling in confusion; suddenly all the lights on the machine began to go red and loud sounds began to emanate from it, "Blasted machine!" the Doctor screamed under his breath, "there is nothing left!"

The tension had reached its boiling point and a distant body guard unexpectedly squeezed the trigger of his black piece sending a projectile in the general direction of the doctor during one of the louder noises. Shocked, the Doctor turned to face the bullet firing man before noticing the indented work of the bullet on the console which immediately began to smoke up with electrical fire. "You Idiot!" he waved at the man wildly just as he found himself dead from the counter fire of the white coated lab technicians.

The lights continued to flicker as the one of the more muscled body guards grabbed hold of Mr. Bateman and proceeded to pull him back towards the door to get an easy getaway. The others immediately began to take up positions picking off any of the escaping lab grunts as they made their way to and fro in the equipment. "Damn you all!" The Doctor shouted as he made distance from the panel and proceeded to fall back behind the machine looking up at the young hero. The two made eye contact in the flickering white light but all they could understand was the heat of the red light that was slowly becoming prominent as it emanated from the machine, "It needs to release the materials."

"Soul."

"I suggest you make good on what you heroes do or leave before everyone else winds up dead."

At that moment, Nightwing looked across at the younger Bateman whom was clutching his head tightly as he fell to his knees on the floor. In the far back behind the glass tubing that continued to be filled with the illicit fumes of the dreaded Soul, an armed technician pulled up his own weaponry and aimed it down at the poor boy. Without hesitation, Nightwing leaped from the company of the Doctor and kicked the hand of the lab assistant backwards just as he fired causing the projectile to be sent through the delicate glass ware puncturing it and releasing the contents of the machine, "That'll do it," the doctor stated as he made his way behind the machine towards a private escape way.

Nightwing fell back from the boy whom immediately jumped into the air and waved his hands with a smile illuminating his self-awareness of the situation unfolding. The bullet fire began to slow down to snails crawl as the fumes began to dominate the air not only clouding their sights of vision but their sense of judgement as well: not one of the armed persons present was of good nature and upon recognizing this, the drug brought forth within them the pent up rage and aggression which they immediately began to wield upon one another in force rather than strategic thought.

Nightwing began to see the floor shake and seemingly become wooden which began to shatter under the wait of the situation. His eyes fluttered and darted from left to right unable to grasp reality; all that he understood was that Patrick Bateman was finally at peace with himself while everyone else was suffering uncontrollably unable to understand their actions. He pulled his hands up as he sat down with his knees raised in front of him. Looking into his palms he came to a shocking surprise seeing a small little angel glowing in Nightwing garb with halo in his right hand and a devilish, red robe wearing, dark monstrosity of a Nightwing in his left.

"You are that hero," the angelic version began to speak softly pulling forward a harp, "your confusion over right and wrong is understandable, but if you work at it and enquire for truth you will become its student. You can become the hero you were meant to be and live a full life."

Nightwing's jaw dropped and his eyes began to squint.

"You're already the hero you were meant to be," it nodded and sat cross legged while the red tint of its glow became more prominent in the current lighting situation, "embrace what you have, you have the ability to make the calls between what is right and wrong! Cassie does this, Wayne does this, you don't ever believe you are weaker in your judgements than they are!"

"You are still capable of great good," the soft version spoke up, "you have no reason to suffer for what you believe in, but I plead you to enquire lest that good be led astray."

Nightwing fell on his back; nervously, he turned to his side to look towards the high standing dual door set up and saw it began to swerve and twist as it opened revealing the shine of a great light coming through it. A tall dark figure stepped from within it and immediately looked down in Nightwing's general direction, with a twisting of the figures arms the formation of the fumes began to dissipate all around him. Unexpectedly, the figure flew at a lightning speed towards him and then dove high into the ceiling. Nightwing watched as a hole suddenly punched through to the stars above him leading the desperate fumes to the open air of the night life. Satisfied, he turned once again onto his back and smiled before passing into the darkness of sleep.

* * *

"I feign to think what might have happened to him had I not followed him there," Cassie paused before placing the glass cup back on the glass topped coffee table that stood centre in her spacious living room, "when the bullets started sounding off I nearly froze in my perch."

"You suddenly really cared for him?"

"I suppose," her head fell to her left shoulder, "maybe Its that I feel more sorry for him than anything else, I couldn't imagine not having you in my life, never mind being rejected by you," she raised the knuckles of her hand to her mouth as she leaned back on the soft couch pushing her feet outward in stretch, "he's a bright kid, but he I think he needs my help...I'm just not sure that I'm the right person for him."

"I think you are Cassie..." an out stretched hand appeared and placed it soothingly on Cassie's out stretched thigh. She brought in her legs and closed her eyes for but a moment, "who better would understand the plight of a young hero in a strange world?"

"Thanks mom," Cassie opened her eyes with a smile and nodded with affection.

"We should really talk more often, I really can't wait to meet him."

"He's been asleep for a near two days," Cassie responded sternly, "I half expected him to be up for to be up and about within an hour of being drugged and dancing around the kitchen...Dick says he's never seen him sleep before."


	6. Interval 2 Part 2

Interval #2  
Volume 1. Story 1.  
Red Lightning (Part 2)

_Chronology:  
__Pre-Young Justice #1_

* * *

"How is this possible?" Jace muttered with a shallow breath. He found himself incapacitated with thought as the daunting figure of his future self-garbed in yellow hued flash garb stepped from the upgraded treadmill from his time's Flash Museum, "what has happened?"

"The first attempt was unsuccessful," he responded with a deep drawn out voice, "there was some misjudgement in the time intervals, the treadmill couldn't produce enough openings when it was powered through the Speed Force realm."

Jace fell back a bit before managing to pull his gaze from the figure. The high reaching structures of townhouses and office complexes, the roads and the plant life situated in troughs every few metres away from one another; they all lacked full colour as though this world had been watered down significantly, "where are we?" he took a look down each roadway in the four part intersection recognizing the uniformity of the buildings but the absence of cars or any sentient life, "where are the people?"

"People?" he responded with a cold unhinged grin, "there's no people in this world..." he stepped forward towards Jace and established a more serious facade, "this is our world," he nodded, "it was a last ditch effort to save the Speed Force from destruction...but now..."

"Did we do it?" Jace returned the gaze back to his future self.

"I'm sorry," he responded under his breath, "I created this world because we...I wasn't successful...this is why I needed to find myself back through time," he turned away and looked back towards his treadmill, the solid grey metal device that now contained four plate shapes of energized purple as a stopping pads underneath the running pad and the board and handle bar section had purple tubes shooting from it and aiming down towards a metal box that protruded from the front, it was empty and the wires freely roamed around inside seemingly connecting nowhere, "I didn't mean to harm you, but I didn't have much time and I needed the treadmill if I was to ensure the survival of the other persons whom are in connected with the Speed Force."

"They're all OK now?" Jace raised his hand in a questioning gesture, "what about Iris and Jai, was that you?"

"No..." an ominous voice came from behind them. The future Jace turned around and clasped his teeth together in an unadjusted anger ready to burst out. Jace turned looked down the street and recognized the figure coming towards them, the muscular man with the white shirt that had the collar frayed out, the blue pants and gloves, square jaw and menacing eyes; every step he took was with a sense of passion that he was never to be contradicted for he was always right, "You forced my hand, my involvement."

"Why couldn't you leave well enough alone Mercury!" The future Jace yelled as he propelled himself rapidly back to the treadmill, "Don't you understand that failure means to obliterate all that you have built up?"

"A century's time I have given you to think," Mercury stated as he continued to step forward till he came to par with the younger Jace who looked up at him with glazed eyes, "and still you're a bitter as when you first came here." He turned to look down at Jace and placed his strong hand on his shoulder, "It was undeserving that you end up like him; I had to give you a second chance at life...please don't fall to the sins of your past!"

"My past?" Jace looked to the distance of his future self and he agonizingly looked down upon their presence with a frown, "what past? If I save him before he sacrifices himself then it will be like none of this ever happened."

"Exactly," the future self said with a humble dry reaction, "we can change the fate of our family for all of time, everyone who's donned the title of the Flash. Mercury, we can be the one Flash that says 'no'."

"Your father was a hero, I loved him very much," Mercury began as he regained the attention of the younger boy, "but please pay head to the laws of this universe and the next, we do not make the rules to suit our interests. Your father surely would have agreed."

Jace looked back across at his future self and felt as though they were both dying together a little on the inside, "a hero yes," he turned to looked back up at Mercury and backed away so that his arm fell flat. Mercury readjusted himself now relinquishing himself to the possibility that there is no possible way to reason with Jace, "but I'd take a father over a hero any day, no matter the accomplishment."

"I was wrong then," Mercury retorted in a calm but heart provoked voice as he looked down at the displeasing concrete, "you are the last of the Allen line...I can't promise I can bring you out this time...all that your forefather's built will be lost."

"Soon," Jace responded as he headed back towards the second treadmill nearby that he borrowed from Iris back in the twenty-first century, "I don't think any of this will matter, there will be a family again, I won't be alone," he looked at his future self who had gained a strong composure and smiled once more, "I will have a home to look forward to."

A loud spark of lightning like noise shot behinds Jace and moments after ward he began to feel a gust of wind behind him pushing him forward ever so slightly towards his future self. Mercury was gone and now Jace was free to enact his grand vision, "how did we fail?"

The future Jace placed his hands on the handle bars of the updated Treadmill and proceeded to place his feat in a position to run, "every attempt that I made to pull him from the Speed Force resulted in me losing my abilities...and as you already know by paradox..." he paused and reached a new low tone, "I can't exist without those abilities intact. As such, no rescue operation could be undertaken."

"Yes," Jace responded enthusiastically as he came within a few feet of his future self on the treadmill, "but that's why I set it up with the treadmill, we can bypass it if we accelerate my," he shook his head in puzzlement, "younger self into the Speed Force and pull him and me," his eyes flickered, "at just the right moment while I use the treadmill to collapse the rift that it creates."

"Yes," the older version looked down at him, "but it doesn't work," he sighed, "I've tried multiple times to prove it successful," he looked away from Jace and to the console examining the multitude of gears and buttons, "but now I know...the Speed Force needs to take someone," he turned and nodded in a serious gesture hoping his younger self would come to fully understand the situation, "it can't do without."

"Do it anyway!" Jace shouted in response.

"You saw the effects didn't you?" Jace looked back at his daunting older self, "I did and the Speed Force nearly broke...it would have killed everyone in contact with it throughout time itself," he reasserted himself, It was by outside intervention in the form of Mercury that I was able to prevent it from caving in on itself."

"Everyone's OK," Jace nodded his head.

"Yes, but there is still much work to be done, I have been seeking it out new methods in which to continue our mission...I've had plenty of years to think out all the possibilities."

"Is that what Mercury was worried about?"

"What?" he turned with a shocked expression at the young man who crossed his hands across his chest and buttoned his lips.

"That we'd destroy the Speed Force."

"He just doesn't believe..." he turned away back to the console, "that anyone one of them could live without this power, this great torture. I was willing to make that sacrifice...I don't need this," he threw out his hands towards Jace before allowing the collapse of his body onto the console. "It's ironically fortunate that he pulled you from committing the same mistake, anything to change his world to benefit himself... but now, you could be the source of our salvation."

"I assuming since I'm here that you've found a way to multiple the access to the dimensional components that time interference can generate?"

"Indeed, it's so nice to be able to talk to yourself isn't it?" he smiled, "there's a device back in the twenty-first century, something that Wally West built;" Jace's eyes wavered, "I believe you must have seen it: the hyper-accelerator. I believe I have finally calculated a way in which we could use its speed enhancing abilities to recreate the incident-"

"And still make for the hyper acceleration of our younger self." Jace interrupted.

"Exactly," he raised his head with pride, "the paradox should break down the moment the Speed Force comes in to connection."

"But you'll be lost?" Jace questioned,

"We'll be making the run together," he continued, "I will have to collapse the intervals in time that the Speed Force will generate with this treadmill and in the process you'll be able to depart on your treadmill with a different frequency that will pull new dimension where he survives into yours. A pocket dimension of sorts will exist...but it won't be up for long."

"I..." Jace started while he shook his head, "won't remember having grown up with him, he'll have lived with a different version of us?"

"Not exactly, is the world he survives in, the only option is for our version there to die," the elder sighed, "It's the best option that we can take without killing anyone...I know exactly how you feel, I went through the same experiences but all this time that I've had here to think...I don't believe that our livelihood or our father's life is worth the expense of so many others...they must deserve the life they lived as must as we deserve what we need."

"Indeed." Jace responded, "Just how long have you been here...why?"

"Alright-" the older version continued, "we need to get the hyper-accelerator from the twenty-first century, are you up to the task of retrieving it?"

"Yeah, I can take care of that," Jace stated feeling ignored.

"Good. I have everything almost ready back at the Museum in this world, I'm going to be hooking up this treadmill," the elder placed his hand on the protruding half ball that stood squarely at the centre of the console, "when we get it going, you're going to have be ready to run with me...you're going to have to judge the right interval in time if you're going to make it back to your world and time safely."

"It's a risk I've prepared myself for."

"I know." he reached down into a slot underneath the protruding half-globe and pulled out a yellow ring which he pulled up to his eye level to examine, "this should do you well," he tossed the ring down to Jace who instinctively reached out both his hands in a cup motion to grab it as gravity took effect, "It's a great deal resistant to friction."

"A suit," the elder nodded and Jace looked up at him while holding the ring at the tip of his fingers. He carefully examined the top of the ring, the bulging circular shape that possessed within it the Flash lightning emblem. He pressed down on it hard enough and let go with quick reflexes and watched as fabric in various shades of red, yellow and black drove upward forming someone of a humanoid shape before falling towards the ground. Jace quickly held it in his arms and noted its perfect height comparison to his current standing and the full cowl with eye protection; it was unlike the costume of his father's and certainly did not follow through on the flash history of sidekicks.

"I wasn't much interested in the designs of our collective past," the elder commented when he saw his younger self become embroiled mentally in the suits composition, "I'm sure it fits, it did the trick for me when I reached your sizing."

Jace pulled out the arms to the widest position letting the leggins fall to the ground. With a quick burst of heightened speed, Jace pulled the suit on extending his flesh through the thick fabric that stuck to him like latex. His feet came to be encased in large scarlet hard coated boots that stretched up to just under his knees and carried on the outer side the tradition wings of speed on the ankle ball. The scarlet colour extended to his chest region, a triangular piece that reached up to his shoulders and carried lines down from there to his gloves and boots. His gloves carried on the familiar flash colour but reached meagrely past his wrists and were held tightly bound to them by two thick black straps. Covering the fullness of his head except for his mouth was the cowl, the disobedient piece that kept his head in perfect order carrying around his eyes yellow goggle eyes pieces. To top off the costume was the logo, that circle of yellow with a black inside and a shining red lightning bolt. "It's a good suit," Jace commented as he examined its comfort and the overall black theme of the main components.

"It's not quite like the one I'm wearing, but it served its purpose for a time," the elder signalled his hand towards the treadmill that Jace held on loan from Iris, "Now, if you'll be so kind, there is still the mastery of patience that I lack...retrieve the item!"

"Very well," Jace turned towards the loaned treadmill and jumped onto it, placing his hands on the more simplistic console and prepared to make his run, "what exactly is the plan though? Couldn't we just get the hyper-accelerator at any time?"

The elder looked back at him with a unconcerned glow then turned his attention back to the console, "It's difficult to understand right now, I know. History dictates that the Hyper-Accelerator disappears around 2046...I'll relay the time frame to you," he pressed a blue button off to the side of the half ball and quickly typed down some coordinates into the keypad, "Now I think I know why. Our Treadmills should be linked now; when you have the device activate the treadmill and I will home in on your signal."

"Understood," Jace responded sternly uncertain of whether or not he was really contributing to the potential success of his destined mission.

* * *

"No flash..." a tall and lanky black one-piece wearing man bowed his head down further exemplifying the great distances that his limbs and face reached from his torso. He was nearly bald and seemingly was unable to bring his mouth down from the smiling position that grasped the larger half of his face while his tired green eyes stood questionably at the ready, never blinking, "I don't understand the severity of my condition...I don't have much time left," he nodded his head continuing with the lukewarm smile, "thought'd I'd be allowed to take you with me..." his teeth came together tightly as he turned his head upward to a tall stone built clock tower with a white shinning circle of time standing out of the rather bleak colour scheme of the sky and architecture that possessed this world, "nearly four am...nearing my time."

The Flash, a tall slender woman of considerable strength wearing the distinctive patterns of her predecessors; the scarlet red tight shirt and pants segregated by a bulky black belt and buckle, the yellow shoes that reached just above her ankles and the gloves that outstretched further down on the outer side and flared out in triangular points of fabric and a facial piece that reached just above her forehead allowing her delicate orange hair to be free but non-the-less tied back behind her head in a single column. As a distinguishing feature to her design, she kept closely to a tight black leather jacket that remained open with its various buckles and straps around the wrists and waist to be freely flying around as she moved at speeds and as in difference to all other Flashes, she held a yellow lightning bolt emblem with no circular boundary across her chest reaching from below her chin to her stomach.

She quickly assessed the situation, the man stood below the squared off concrete clock tower that nearly reached four stories while a one story wall stretched in a rectangular fashion breaking off all possibly connection with the more taller buildings except in the three open doorways that were on the walls adjacent to the clock tower. "You've got nowhere to go except through me!" Flash shouted as she lowered herself and prepared to take on her oppressor.

"I have no plans to go anywhere," he turned standing up to full strength reaching the same height physically as her, "this is my life's work at practice..." he nodded his head while hands seemingly begin to turn into glowing balls of lightning, "I will become your god...succumb to me."

"I don't think so..." she responded post haste, "if you tap any further into that complex you've built within yourself you'll dissipate into nothing."

"Oh, now I don't thinks so..." his eyes bulge.

"Your body is incapable of handling that much energy, its too much pressure."

"Pressure?" the man responded raising the length of his lightning glowing limb at the Flash, "You handle all these such things as though they were common...do you not fear what I could become?" he stood up and allowed the lighting to travel from his hands upward to his shoulders, "I can shape the world into whatever I desire."

"Would you like to put that to the test?" Iris commented, "I've viewed your work," she stood up full strength and proceeded to pull out a black rectangular device with one glass surface, "if you allow that energy to take over your body, you aren't going to be a god, you're going to cease to exist...Let me help you," she pushed her hand open and created a sincere look upon her face.

"No, Death is only the beginning...I am immortal!"

Iris looked back at him blankly, "you're going to die and take up a section of the city with you...if this is your destined path, take it somewhere else...If not," she paced herself slowly ready to pounce down on him, "let me help you."

The man's body began to shake rapidly and uncontrollably, "you will join me," his head lunged out away from his thin body as it became frailer with the electricity approaching his torso. A bubble of energy began to emerge around him, "this is where I belong...this is my home. I will not leave!"

"Then..." she attempted to continue her acts of persuasion but came to bite her bottom lip in anticipation and nervousness, "you've left me with one choice." Iris's hands began to shake in the same patterns of her current enemy, her eyes closed as she began to concentrate on the task at hand. The space between the rapid rotations and movements of her hand began to light up and form a white oblong bubble. The man watched with a continued look of excitement while being uncertain of her next move. The Flash opened her eyes at dead set with her enemy and her hands came to a stop. She threw back her left leg and planted it in the ground and pushed her weight inter her right as she motioned her hands immediately in front of her releasing the bundle of energy she had form towards him. It grew in size and accumulated in speed as it came to the man whom now turned to a nervous wreck as his body came to be near possessed by the energy he created.

An explosion of blinding light emerged from the man as the bubble came to hit him. The cement on which they stood began to crack and open up to earth below while shards of electrical nightmares shot to and fro out of the explosion that lasted less than ten seconds. The Flash attempted to raise her hands to block the emergence of a pure energy core but found her self-whipped down to cracked ground by a twisting force of lightning energy. She fell to all fours and slowly but surely worked up her head to look up at the situation formed by her actions, "I can't control...it..." she stuttered to say as she came to view a full humanoid with its inner skeleton becoming exposed through the acts of electrical radiation.

"See..." the voice of her oppressor now held a deep tone filled with an absolutist form of passion, "your attempts to control time in your bubbles...how is this not different from my quest!" his raised his hands into fists while the wisps of energy continued to flow around and from him.

"I will always use it for good..." she continued to stutter allowing a cough or two to emerge from her dry throat.

"As do I!" He responded, "I can bring life to those whom have died..."

"No...it's too late for you now..." She rolled over onto her back and looked up at the night sky watching the stars circle around her while her mental and physical state remained in disarray, "there's not time to run..." she muttered to herself, "I...fail..."

"You will come with me Flash," the skull of the man leaned over top of her and moved creepily as the words protruded and were heard.

The Flash's body began to freeze up as she watched the skull of her tormentor move unusually seemingly duplicating as they headed off to the side of her vision, each progressive clone seemingly dropping its jaw more so than the previous one. As the skulls disappeared in descending order she felt a breeze at her side that was powerful enough to push her over onto her side. Her eyes lit up as she saw in the distance above the wall and the meagre building behind it the high rising smoke and electricity of what must have been the explosion of the energy the man's body was hoping to control and manipulate. The after affects soared into the air and seemingly remained station there for hours as her sense fully came to grasp her safety; all had come to pass.

"Flash..." The Flash fell back on to her back and looked up to see a smaller figure, a young man with yellow tinted goggles and scarlet red cowl much like that of her predecessors.

"Dad..." her eyes lit up as she became puzzled by the situation.

"No, It's Jace," he placed his hands on her shoulders and attempted to prop her up so that she was sitting. Immediately she came to recognize the grim clock tower and the walls that kept her in the courtyard, "are you going to be OK...where can I take you?" she stared back at him but heard the words only after the fact of his mouth being moved.

"I tried to hard...I'm sorry," Iris muttered under her breath.

"I don't understand!" Jace responded in a louder voice attempting to access her active intellect.

"Yes," she spoke softly and looked up at the clock tower and its ominous glow of time, "start running back to my home...my place...I'll be alongside you."

"I don't understand? Can you even stand up?"

"Yes...I will sync with you..." her head wobbled, "Please run."

* * *

Jai immediately hopped to attention as he held came to grab hold of Iris as she collapsed into him. Jace ran as fast as he could back to the West family home and now stood at the top section living room immediately preceding the well accessorized region populated with green plush couches, "shouldn't we find her a place to lay down?"

"No...I'll be fine..." she placed one hand on Jai's muscular shoulder and pushed herself a short distance away so as to gain her balance on her own strength, "just let me pull myself back together," she pulled down her mask allowing it fall down to her neck revealing her angular features.

Jai had not changed much since Jace had seen him last, the physically fit man was nearly as tall as his sister and was much cleaner in light of recent events, "Jace is that you...? It's been some time since we've seen you last..."

Jace pulled upward on his cowl and allowed it fall back like a hood, "really?" he paused, "how long has it been?"

"A good four months," he placed his hands on Iris's shoulder's making sure that she stayed steady while she in turn raised her hands to her temples to mitigate a headache, "nice suit," he commented.

"Did you bring back the treadmill?" Iris was quick to light up but never moved her hands from her temples.

"I did, but I'm still going to need it...your powers have returned haven't they?" Jace looked upon them with concern.

"No..." Jai looked back at Jace.

"Perhaps its best we sit down now," Iris stated.

"That was very unusual, what you did there?" Jace began, "I've never encountered that in all of my studies...is that even Speed Force derived?"

"Yes," Iris stated as her brother helped her down the one step and come to a nice position on the three person couch that managed that held its back up against the wooden step.

Jace re-examined the family photos that comprised the walls and the cabinets along the walls, "what is that you're doing exactly?" he followed suit stepping down and occupying the adjacent one person couch.

"It's a time bubble of sorts...If I can get a person in there I can control the time around them...it's a prison of sorts but I can't hold it up for long," she bit her teeth down as she re-shifted her neck up against the couch backing, "especially with my powers not being in check...have you found our friend? I thought you said you were going to fix this?"

"I did," Jace beckoned, "It must be him who's preventing your abilities from returning!"

"Who?" Jai immediately commented removing his hands from his sisters shoulders after he found her to be in better condition than when she had started.

"It's Max..." Jace started in a stern tone, "Max Mercury. I had this plan," he looked at the two and gained their intent attention, "but he didn't believe I could accomplish it...he took away your abilities even though I..." he thought back to his elder self, "I fixed it, the Speed Force should go back into order. Everyone connected should be safe."

"If you've fixed it," Iris let her head fall back before coming forward again and looking down Jace, "Why do you need the treadmill...?"

"Max would never do something like this unless he had a reason," Jai stood up and moved his head and hands in mutual dissatisfaction, "something must still be wrong..."

"I don't know what I can do for you, but I need the treadmill to make an alternate attempt, one that won't affect the Speed Force or anyone attached to it."

"Plan?" Iris questioned, "what's this plan..." she shook her head, "what are you even trying to do?"

Jace looked up at Jai and then down back at Iris, "you wouldn't understand...I can't really explain..." he looked away from both of them and clasped his hands together just above his knees, "when this is over, then everything will be fine...even better," he looked back at them, "everything will be alright...but I'm going to need something else."

"What?" Iris asked with a shocking tone of humour.

"It's something that Wally built, the hyper-accelerator...do you still have it...you must?"

Iris's attention immediately became intent and serious. Jai fell back into his chair and closed his eyes to channel his thoughts away, "What do you need that for Jace?" Iris asked.

"I need it to save..." he mumbled, "if I could be allowed to use it then I can save the Speed Force."

"Jace," she looked at him with her mouth slightly unhinged at the notion, "I'm not going to let you use it without a proper explanation. It's not something that can just be used for any unfulfilled fantasy."

"I assure you, I'm doing this for a just cause!" Jace stood up now to assert himself more freely, "I'm a part of this Flash legacy as much as you two are, I can restore your full strength of your abilities...isn't it time that we started being real heroes and not just people who can run after blistering speeds!"

"A Flash is so much more..." Jai started.

"Yes, Indeed!"

"But I'd gladly sacrifice my abilities than risk the safety of any body, family or otherwise," he looked back at his sister, "we all make that choice."

"Oh, I have," Jace responded, "But should we not have what we need regardless of the circumstances? Is that not something that we should all be deserving of, Flash or not?" Iris and Jai looked back at him with whimpering grins as Jace's voice became coarse, "please, I need this."

* * *

Jace stepped out of the glass square shaped room that reached to the roof and found himself once more in the main room of the XS laboratory as established by Wally West. He circled the room with his eyes once more noting the desks and blue prints that layered the walls outlining or holding up the devices of the present, future, past and in particular one device that comprised all such categories, "I knew I saw last I was here," Jace continued with his rough vocalization, "has it been tampered with?" Jace called out as he made his way to the a metal box like construct sitting neatly on the wall desk to the left of the building. It made the appearance of being heavy and looked like it was a work in progress with the box portion of it being open on top and on one side. Inside situated a neon blue tube that extended from one end to the other and sat over top various connection rods that connected to a bottom compartment.

"We've made countless attempts to access it and assess its immediate capabilities," Iris said with a breathless voice, "but all our attempts have not been so successful; I was hoping in light of recent activity that I might be able to use it to rejuvenate my abilities..."

"But," Jace turned back from examining the device and assessed Iris physical strength.

"I thought better of it Jace," Iris made herself appear at full strength, "my father built it for a purpose but he always said those purposes could always be reinterpreted to do harm...it really depends on whom is using it."

"So you've managed to comprehend its capabilities?" Jace responded with an acquired knowledge.

"Quite so."

"I've only read about it from Wally's files," he turned back to face the machine, "I always thought that if I could only have it then maybe I could work things out...better than how they turned out...but I couldn't think of a way to apply it."

"Apply it? Jace," Iris called for his absolute attention, "It will connect everything it comes in contact with to the Speed Force; time and space will have no effect on whatever it is put to use on. What could you possible see as being a good for it? You have a private army pinning for some of this lucrative power?"

"Your connection, making those bubbles...your connection to the Speed Force...It's different from all the other speedsters."

"I was kind of born that way," Iris began, "me and brother that is."

"What happened?" "

"We almost never were, but a 'fissure in time' thanks in part to our father brought us back. Our connection was much different from that of any other our relatives connected to this power. It manifested itself first in minor abilities, I could shift through solid objects and Jai was impossibly strong."

Jace looked confused abruptly, "but your abilities now?"

"I developed them as I grew older, became the most powerful of our families, but it always seemed to come at a cost, I nearly caused this version of the world to end because I wasn't satisfied with my parents for grounding me," she let out a smile.

"Your time abilities then, have you ever attempted to change past events? Why not use the treadmill to find Wally, to be with your father?"

"My father was a hero in his own time, if he was with us today he'd probably be even more so," Iris bright voice quickly deepened, "he's made us who we are and he's in that great Valhalla, I don't think he could get any happier till my brother and I join him."

"But if you had the strength in your abilities and the treadmill," he stuttered a bit as his eyes began to blink furiously, "you could make the Valhalla here!"

She nodded her head, "exactly the reason why I refuse to ever step on that thing or use that hyper-accelerator, I have no idea what I would do with that power; my father could have been the god of the people but he choose the route of the humble, he became a man to the people."

Jace took a deep breath, "I don't know if that's good enough for me..."

"Jace, we will be there to help you if you need it, we can be your family here. Let the forefather's rest in peace while we, their children, take up their battles. The world should not conform to your every need, no one, regardless of what granted abilities, has that right."

Jace turned away from her and picked up the hyper-accelerator, "yes," he scoffed, "why can't I be the exception?" he muttered just audible enough for her to hear. He walked by her and they paused to look at one another, "our abilities should be enable us to save everyone, especially the ones we love."

* * *

The energy bubble began to form as the treadmill began to rematerialize in the open space of the Flash Museum in the world generated by the Jace from the future. The tread mat came to a stop as Jace's feet planted themselves down on to it. Now fully materialized he came to quickly recognize where he was; the same place where his quest had first started only all the items, the statues and the memories had disappeared leaving an empty and shallow gymnasium of a room with nothing but minimal sky lighting illuminating the scene ahead. Less than a few metres away and directly in front of his position was his future self-standing impatiently awaiting his prize. Nearby was the updated treadmill surrounded by four metal prongs that reached high above it in a circular pattern; a barrier of sorts. This pegs were connected together through a single, yet large, purple cable rested on the floor forming the circumference containing the prongs and the treadmill. "Oh yes," the elder immediately grew in gleeful joy, "you have brought it...we can continue the operation."

"Yes," Jace hopped down from his acquired treadmill and proceeded to fish the hyper-accelerator out of the makeshift straps that held it tightly to the front of his treadmill. Jace picked it up with both hands and watched as the smile of his future self-grew ever so wide and his hands clasped together with accomplishments that had yet to materialize. Jace came to a stop a short distance away from the bizarre double and the contraption that he had converted the treadmill into, "so tell me," he began, "I know we both know what this thing is capable of; how exactly do you...or we...plan on using it?"

"What?" the elder's eyes seemed to hop out of position, "time is not very lenient, we can discuss it further as the mission is in progress," the latter version's voice stood at a calm drawl becoming more a tune to his younger self, "please," he pushed his hands forward prepared to receive the device, "I have been preparing this for too long to have it all go to waste..."

"No," Jace nodded his head, "I want to know now, how is this supposed to help us achieve our goal?"

The elder Jace took a deep breath and placed his hands squarely on his waist, "there is no time for this kind of argument, you know yourself best of all, give me the device and you can go to living the way life should have made it."

Jace let the device drop lower in his grasp and took a good hard look at his future version, "I've tried to calculate how to use this before; you should remember," the elder took a step back as his placing became more awkward, "I don't think there is a single way we can apply this."

"I need to retool it quickly to make it work," he spouted out quickly, "I can only achieve the proper speed with the device in order to create the pocket dimension, without it I have nothing."

"No, there's no way is there?" Jace responded with a stern grasp of the events unfolding, "your lying...lying to yourself...what...what..." he stuttered, "the hyper-accelerator isn't going to expand the Speed Force into intervals of time and dimensions...it's going to-"

"Destroy it," Mercury's deep sympathetic voice came in. Jace turned to his side and watched as the man with the crown of age and wisdom came and stopped next to him never keeping his gaze off the future Jace. "He plans to use the hyper-accelerator to reinforce the treadmill speeding it up till he becomes one with the Speed Force...he'll destroy everyone whose ever been connected to it, in every time, place and form of existence."

"But he said that he created this place...that he made it to save everyone from the mistakes that we had made in our first attempt?"

"This place is not something he created to save everyone. This place is his prison," Jace turned to face his elder self whom posed now standing upright with a brutal smile and a passion in his eyes that Jace believed he would never see within himself, "Jace, there wasn't one time in which you attempted this; there have been millions upon millions of attempts."

"Whose he?"

"That is all the accumulations of every version of you that has ever attempted to breach the Speed Force."

"And how long has it been...?" Jace scoffed with a breathless bite.

"Well over a thousand years...He's gone mad."

"Mad? What an understatement," the elder Jace stepped forward, "I've been locked away for to long..."

"But we were going to save him," Jace took steps forward leaving the hyper-accelerator behind him, "I was going to succeed."

The elder nodded his head in dissatisfaction, "how naive, In all this time I've spent here there is one absolute; there is no way to save him without erasing my existence..." his eyes popped up as he looked down at his young self, "and I don't want not to exist...I can be a god."

"I couldn't let this life go un-lived," Jace turned around to listen intently to Mercury, "all I wanted was to save one of you so that none of this may never happen...Jace, as much as you love your father, you can't give into this monster. He is not you!"

"Your right," the elder nodded his head continuing with an arrogant expression, "I'm so much more, the power and intellect I have amassed...already I am the most powerful Speedster that has ever existed. I don't need you anymore..." he pointed down at Jace, "you can stay here...or have a second life as a part of me..." he reached his hand forward insinuating for Jace to grab hold of it, "I would love to have you as a part of intellect...all that you've done recently I had never the chance in all my countless other selves."

"Your diseased." Jace responded coldly as he took steps back preparing to protect the hyper-accelerator.

"No, I am the collective conscience, the Omnifarious," he nodded his head approvingly, "its not like I need you anymore...you've gotten what I really wanted." He smiled and took steps towards Jace who began to cower in front of the device hoping that Mercury would come to his aide, "I was going to absorb you anyway."

The elder Jace, the omni-selves, stepped up his pace quickly stepping into the signature super speed. The moment his gloved hands reached the top part of the device, the younger Jace was quick to react grabbing hold and pulling him away at the same speed.

The omni-selves stepped back and with a cold grin immediately grabbed Jace by both arms and began unmercifully kicking him propelling themselves farther against the wall. The force of speed pushed Jace hard against the black linoleum layered wall forcing it to crack and reveal the concrete behind. The colourful wind of yellow disappeared leaving Jace to slump down from the wall recuperating from his agonizing pain. He fell to his knees and attempted to use his arms to balance himself but found them to be over extended with the muscles sore enough to be declared broken.

"No time like the present," The Omni-Jace stated as he picked up the Hyper-accelerator and proceeded to make his way to the contraption that he constructed in the Museum; his gateway out of this prison.

"Mercury...Max...help?" Jace pleaded raising his right arm up to the man whom stood motionless staring down at him.

"This is still your fight now," Mercury responded, "your refusal to accept has been your greatest folly..."

Jace's head shook nervously and with great pain as he pulled it up once more to take a look at Max whom stared at him with his infinite wisdom; he then turned his attention to his omni-selves and prepared himself placing his left foots against the concrete hole and other firmly planted on the museum floor. Across the way the Omni-selves prepared his project first by placing the hyper-accelerator into the square holder at the front of the treadmill followed by the hooking up of the purple cable around the contraption to the device. The hyper-accelerator's primary energy core, the cylindrical neon blue, began to light up and fuse with the purple power line. Jace watched with a slight bit of fascination as the the four prongs surrounding the treadmill began to shoot up with a peculiar form of purple electricity with varying highlights of multi-coloured arrangements.

The Omni-selves stepped onto the treadmill and pressed firmly on the glass central ball forcing his hand upon it turning the treadmill on; immediately he kept in step moving foot after foot to achieve the maximum form of energy to achieve his desired speed before the hyper-accelerator would accelerate him further.

Jace, now adequately healed by his speed for the task at hand, planted his hands in the ground and propelled himself forward into full sprint towards the prong shield pushing his right hand forward he found himself blocked by the force of the machine's electrical field. With a tremendous force of repulsion, Jace's body fell backwards with enough strength to created dents in the floor and amass injuries that would take a number of years for any normal being to recover from. Battered and having amassed numerous bruises, Jace turned to his side and watched now as his Omni-selves came to near full speed in which he seemed to grow and multiply revealing just how many of Jace's alternate selves went into his making.

Without an immediate thoughts or concern for his physical health, Jace made the leap to his burrowed treadmill and with a steady split second gaze at the motionless Mercury, he sprinted at full speed as fast as he could re-establishing the homing link from his treadmill to that of his twisted futures selves. Soon the bright light source began to make shine through at him blocking out all the immediate surroundings seemingly disintegrating the walls of this world as he founds himself to be moving as he had before with this machine. His heart picked up the pace with him, his teeth gnawing together and his eyes clenched shut, it was the worst of pains he could ever hope not to endure, but he pushed through valiantly.

His hands grew numb but stationary on the console's bars, he realized the hole into the Speed Force, and time itself, was opened. A quick angry look forward showed the wormhole, the yellow sides and bolts of red lightning coursing through weaving in and out of the walls. He began to feel the pressure of the goggles around his eyes as his legs learned to become gears as if part of machine, he was unable to control his movements. "Max!" he shouted as loud as he could with his head held high but was unable to hold this position as his mouth became dry and coarse and his head sunk down to his chest from all the pressure caused by the speed.

"It will be so..." the Ominous voice boomed down to him, "You can make it..."

A second wind took Jace over as he felt life return to his body. He raised his head and took in a deep breath. Instantaneously his eyes opened as he leaned forward with a menacing face and moved to the speed he only thought he could achieve and then moved beyond it. The Treadmill seemingly began to move forward towards the blinding light source in the distance till it encapsulated the entirety of the treadmill removing away the red lightning and the safety of yellow energy siding.

Jace found himself entering into a new realm, no source of light, no evident sidings that created the previous wormhole like surroundings, instead he was confronted with seemingly void of space of an electronic blue foundation with wisps of silver streaking bolts shooting in around this seemingly wall that he endlessly shot through.

Assessing this peculiar state of the Speed Force he came to zone in on to the opposing treadmill seemingly a few metres in the distance. The speedster latching tightly to this treadmill turned around and saw that Jace was nearly catching on to him, "You will join me!" he shouted as loud as he could.

Jace pressed forward and felt himself being lifted further ahead to come nearly on par with this oppressing version of himself. He saw now the hyper-accelerator at full power the neon light now shining to the point of being near silver and radiating towards the treadmill that carried it; soon the treadmill and its occupant were to be distilled out of reality and become in essence a part of the Speed force itself.

With time becoming limited to the dissipation of the omni-selves' bodies and treadmill seemingly falling in and out of existence, Jace cemented his feet into the treadmill pad as hard as he could and pushed himself up at the same quickness of speed to the top of the console bar where he leaped off and with less than a metre still between them, he landed on the omni-selves' treadmill and quickly worked up the speed to follow him. He turned to see that his treadmill was bouncing around and higher speeds than he was moving before finally sinking into what could only be conceived as the distance. Jace looked on a head as he saw that five of the selves seemingly broke free from the force running forward and attempted to knock him off with a high kick to the head. Jace dove to the bottom of the treadmill and grabbed hold of the one of the endless array legs that belonged to the group of beings running forward, "You will join with me!" the omni-selves vocalized as they collective dropped their heads suddenly to the console bar and lost consciousness for close to a second; enough time for Jace to contemplate his next move.

Jace nimbly moved around the near lifeless body of his current foe and held tightly to the stand that held up the console board, he watched intently as a ball of pure dark blue energy began to form within the box shape of the hyper-accelerator completely blotting out all the gears and the cylindrical tube that had come up until that point to define it. "I will find a way out of here!" omni-selves shouted in a now moaning tone while reaching down with a free hand grabbing Jace and pulling him away from the device. Jace kept his hands tightly clasped onto the box edges of the device while he watched as the surrounding area began to slowly disappear as the black highlights of the blue energy began to take over.

Jace felt his stomach become sick as he momentarily came to believe he was witnessing in the darkness forming the lives of every speedster whom has ever tapped into the Speedforce; the one in pure scarlet whom sacrificed to save the universe, his protege and his children whom have helped him so much, there future family members, his forefather's and most of all his father whom he saw running once more; his goggles and lightning bolt shinning in yellow as he moved, his scarlet uniform and lightning bolt that shot down from one shoulder to the opposite waist and continued on down his leg to his slim hard edged boots; all of them were dying, in all of time feeling the effects of their source of power collapsing.

Realizing that his time had come in such a short life, that he was the last of the Allens, Jace vibrated the molecules of his entire body and felt himself become displaced all feelings and senses of the mind and body coming to cease. The omni-selves lifted his grasp from Jace feeling the blood of the resulting division of their hand. Jace, vibrating the device with him, fell through the treadmill and into the void of the forming darkness of the Speedforce. The omni-selves turned around to see Jace floating innocently through space and let out a smile with all million jaws moving at different speeds becoming deformed along with the rest of the body before disappearing mere seconds later into the nothingness of which he first came from.

* * *

"Time."

"Have you seen all of it?"

"Yes, it is in here. I am part of it."

"I must fix you from this troublesome mind."

"Twenty-fifth century? This is not the same world as my own? I am too early."

"Do you know what happens here?"

"No..."

"Fate. Leave the hyper-accelerator here."

* * *

"This is amazing," the tall blonde muscular man stepped down the steps into the basement, "a Flash capsule in time capsule...hope notices that I took it," he looked back up the concrete stairs to the black stationary door a few metres up from where he walked; it was closed and locked adequately. "now this will be interesting." The man pulled out the fabric of a outdated flash costume, a simple scarlet design with small connecting lightning bolts circling the forearms and waist and simple artistic licencing of flying wings on the straight edges yellow boots. The logo remained well in tact. Down the last steps he made his way towards a metal table that stretched out nearly two average dinning room table sizes in a square that took up the majority of the room and placed the costume on top of it; the cowl flopped down while the leggings bent at the knee at the edge of the table.

The man looked up at the centre of the table where there was a metal box like device with one side and the top open revealing its inner workings. A neon blue cylindrical device lying on its side facing outward with some seemingly new additions of various small wires circling out of a hole carved into a bottom compartment. He leaned forward and connected two of the free small wires; instantly, the neon blue inner device began to shoot up and accelerate, "OK,"

He brought the suit closer to the device and waited few moments for the device to become fully charged; without warning a burst of energy emanated from the device and came into direct contact with the suit lighting it up with blue electrical currents that sifted through the fabric causing it to deform. The man felt zaps in his hand causing him to drop the suit and fall back to the ground slapping his hands together to get rid of the excess electrical energy that had come in contact with him.

Regaining his senses, the man propped himself up to his knees and then to a full stance and immediately found himself puzzled and enamoured with what lay before him. The suit had inverted in its colour arrangement: the scarlet had turned to yellow, the lightning bolts along the waist and circling the forearms turned to the scarlet red, and the logo base colour had turned to black with the signature bolt inverting to red.

"What has happened?" the man shouted as he grabbed the garment and raised it above his head, "It's changed!" he shouted as he clenched his teeth down. He let his arms down to elbow level and grew a look of suspicion upon his face. Soon the man was lifting foot after foot and hand after hand into the garment making it suit him comfortably. The suit stretched around him and came to suit him perfectly well, "It works!" he shouted looking up at the basement ceiling with excitement, "Eobard Thawne...you are the Flash!" He rapidly moved his hand to the back of his head and pulled the cowl over top of his face. The eyes pieces turned orange and began to glow a unusual orange as a smile of satisfaction grew upon his face.

* * *

"It's time I brought you home."

"No...the intervals in Time, this consciousness...I can see my father again."

"You are not yet prepared to possess that power..."

"No please! I can it all here! This is what I wanted...just give me more time here?"

"Jace...let it go..."

* * *

"AHHHhh!" Jace yelled as he felt his body come back into focus. Shattering and quickly reforming, the rapidly moving bones and flesh of Jace's body saw no immediate end; all his sense turned to mush as his vision blurred through the blacks, browns and white lighting all around him His head bobbled around, up and down moving towards and away from his torso; he was panicking and had no hope for his survival back to the physical realm.

"It's OK Jace," Mercury's hands came down on his shoulders and seeming absorbed all the excess energy that Jace had absorbed. Jace's head continued in jilted and jerked motions but at a slower pace till it had come to a finalized stop and now only his body was quivering at a light pace.

"What happened?" the boy questioned, "did I die?"

"No," Mercury responded, he looked down at his young friend and could only see Jace's wide gaze seemingly unable to blink, "you absorbed the Speed Force. For a moment there you were everything that was and could ever be: a living conduit for all its magnificent energy. You stopped him...but you were almost absorbed."

"I would have been the cause for all their deaths..."

"Yes, I'm quite sorry," Mercury continued in his soft tone while Jace managed to get himself back to proper order and return a respectful glare.

"I could have done a lot of good things in there...more than any Flash before me."

"I know; but you could have done more harm than good also. Your Omni-selves made sure to represent that; he wanted to be a god and dictate what was to be and what could be...the Universe should never be allowed to conform to any one person's desires," Jace looked up baffled leading Mercury to sigh, "I have stood here apart from time, a part of me in it all and a part withheld, all to ensure that no such thing will ever befall the universe."

"And you allowed me to continue? I could have destroyed everyone."  
"I know, but I had faith that you would do well with the right understanding and guidance in your life, something you lacked before your journey."

Jace momentarily thought back to Barry and Wally and then to the later twins of Jai and Iris, "he, those selves, they grew up without any connection...something I resided myself to believe was my fate."

"Not anymore." Mercury responded.

Jace looked up at the wooden rectangular platform ahead of him that reached up a few feet; on top it in the glass casing was the cosmic treadmill, "but that's not the one, that's Wally's..." his voice echoed dry as he looked at the solid grey frame as it appeared as though it had never been touched. He looked around at the closed down museum, all the statues and exhibits covered in various drapes and Styrofoam, "did all this actually happened then...you retrieved it!"

"Oh it did, but you made the right choice...you deserved a better life and now you have that opportunity," he paused in his speech as he brought up unrelated thoughts, "you plan on keeping that uniform that it gave you?"

"I suppose so," Jace looked down at the black and scarlet garb that clasped tightly to his body, "it was tailored to suit my body completely."

"All the same," Mercury pulled up a gold flash ring from his jacket pocket, "I think you'll be needing this...one day."

"One day," Jace looked down at the floor.

"For now though," he continued in his gentle gestures, "you don't have to be alone, I believe there's a part of your family that is hoping that you'd come to stay with them."

Jace tilted his head and looked at Mercury already in understanding of where he intends to place him, "Alright, I can deal with that."

"It's settled then. One last trip."

Jace looked away once more and then back to the treadmill before coming back to Mercury, "so the Speed Force...do you just create a prison for all the mishandling Speedsters?"

"I beg your pardon," Mercury casually leaned forward.

"You know, this prison in the Speed Force, is that where all Speedsters you deem to be unsuitable get locked in?" Mercury raised his head and took a deep breath. Jace turned away from him, and let a brief moment of time again, "if someone was to try to do this again, you'd have no difficulty locking them back in there? You forbid that anything bad happens to you." Jace stated while seemingly coming close to a sarcastic tone, "it's not like you kill people…that would be uncharacteristic of any Flash affiliate, no you just lock up whoever steps out of line. I suppose the only real question I can ask you here," he turned to face Mercury whom seemed unamused, "where do you draw the line?"

"I must warn you," Mercury's head then bowed down and he looked straight ahead at the young man, "this past adventure of yours hasn't changed anything...You are the last of your family. The last of the Allen's." Jace's jaw lowered slightly and he squinted back at Mercury acknowledging the establishment of the unstable bond with his acquired saviour.

* * *

The treadmill came to materialize on the white platform within the XS laboratory. He planted his feet down for the last time on the tread mat and took a moment to recuperate himself. He pulled his mask down revealing his pleasant blonde hair, slate eyes and carried with him a smile that he had not the pleasure of experiencing in sometime. "Jai and Iris," he stated to himself and nodded affectionately for the benefit of himself. With two quick steps, Jace was off the treadmill platform and was within opening distance of the door out into this brave new world.

Jace turned back and looked back at the treadmill and examined the shiny inhuman properties, "the last..." he muttered but couldn't complete his sentence. He tapped his toe at the expected speed of any speedster as thoughts began to formulate in his head, the treadmill never leaving his focus. "Jai and Iris...the twenty-first century."

* * *

"Hey he's back!" Jai exclaimed as he noted the reappearance of the still uniform wearing Jace Allen as he found his way back into the West home and stood on the platform immediately preceding the front door and heading into the living room. "I hope I haven't been gone to long this time?"

"Gone? Oh, it's been under four hours," Jai tilted his head to his side and smiled.

Iris leaned in from the open doorway behind him seemingly coming from a hallway there, she placed her her left hand on the frame and leaned up against it using her free hand to brush away her furious long hair from her face so that she could get a good view of their new guest, "are you OK Iris?"

"I'm fine," she responded as she stood up and shook down her jacket, "just don't expect me to make another trip with you back to the lab to pick up any more material...my abilities have been restored...you wouldn't have anything to do with that would you?"

"I'd like to think so," he looked away from both of them and kept a bright smile, "but I think someone else had that well in hand," he looked back at them intently, "Mercury wanted to spare you both from whatever harm that I may have caused and for that I'm quite sorry," his eyes darted as he attempted to avoid any real emotional harm.

"Yep, it's what I expected," Jai responded with his casual happiness as he greeted Iris by his shoulder side.

"Are you going to tell us about it."

"One day," Jace slowed down to think but the moment quickly passed, "for now though, I kind of just want to move on with my life...I brought the treadmill back, I left it at the lab. Its' in pristine condition." Iris nodded in satisfaction, "Iris," Jace began, "what was the deal with that guy I helped you with earlier? He was almost exploding in my arms, we're lucky that I got him to the desert as soon as I did."

"A classic case of a narcissistic complex, a common norm in today's world with this technology," Iris looked at her brother as the movement of his eyebrows betrayed his puzzlement, "it's actually kind of peculiar that his technology was so reminiscent of my fathers; he wanted to master time with the same access points we have to the Speed Force, but all he managed to achieve now was his death," Jace looked on to her with a bit of shock, "all I wanted to do was save him, but he was so dead set on changing his past to suit his needs...I hope he's better off now."

Jace took a deep breath, "Me too..."

"You planning on staying around?" Jai asked enthusiastically.

"Yeah, if you both don't mind...I need some guidance; I don't want to be like this anymore," he enunciated.

"It would be our honour," Iris responded, "welcome to the team."


	7. Iota 2 Part 2

Iota #2  
Volume 1. Story 1.  
The Colour of Life is Green (Part 2)

_Chronology:  
__Pre-Young Justice #1_

* * *

Athis turned his head crooked and leaned forward from the steps taking a long moment to analyze the movement of his former colleague and his companion as they drew closer to him. A  
Smile began to form as he pointed maliciously at Kindred Emma. With abrupt shock, she stopped in her tracks leaving Deryck to continue the short distance near to his apparent acquaintance. They stood face to face; mere paces between one another, ready to break down with unnecessary violence, "Athis," Deryck began.

"Deryck? How nice, I was concerned I'd never see you again," he responded casually, "and I see you've been quite busy," he leaned his head around Deryck's menacing stare to get a look at the darkly tanned looking girl who clutched the high sides of her arms tightly with her well worked hands, "nice ears there," she proceeded to shake her head to bring her hair down to cover while a dissatisfied emotional nerve began to strike her hard, "helping out the less fortunate Deryck?" he asked turning his attention to his former colleague, "normally I wouldn't question the alien variety..." he nodded with sarcasm.

"Stop it!" Deryck shouted attempting to gain control of the mean spirit that the conversation was becoming, "It wasn't that tubby kid who called the tipped off the cops was it?"

The smile dropped from Athis's appearance and he returned to an empty blue eyed gaze staring at the ground behind Deryck then coming up to his focus once he had gained the proper composure, "No," his eyes bulged, "I take full credit for that."

"Why?" Deryck shouted, "we were working together...that kid is dead."

"I know," he raised his hand to his head stroking his short blonde hair with absolute uncertainty. He grew more serious leaving the witty banter behind, "It wasn't supposed to go down that way, it just happened."

"No," Deryck shook his fist, "Why would you do that to us? To Razzi?" he took a deep breath, "we we're friends, what were you doing?"

"Friends don't normally lie to one another..." Athis shook his head in a return to a positive mood, "Razzi was getting into deep, even I had to start questioning some of our actions...I got some information on what he was doing and whom he was up against, I just didn't like it...I came to a good conclusion Deryck," he placed his hand coldly on his comrade's shoulder, "I can fight for what's good...If I hadn't alerted the authorities, it would be us in prison now on charges of theft and manslaughter."

"Is that what Razzi is involved in now?" Deryck took a step back as his hands raised to stomach level and began to shake nervously, "what have they got him on?"

"It's difficult for anyone to take a crow bar to the head..." Athis continued.

"I can't believe this," Deryck raised his right hand to his face covering his eye.

Athis reached out and placed his hands on Deryck's shoulder pulling him to his attention, "its for the better Deryck...you can pursue a real life now, we're free of charge."

"Razzi was our friend!" Deryck spoke up louder and waved off Athis's comforting hold.

"Then, I can't help you," Athis began as he turned away, "I'm not going to turn you in or anything, but please think about the opportunity here; you can be legit...isn't that something we were working towards anyway?"

Deryck turned his gaze down to the composite concrete of sidewalk and came to notice the delicate scenery, all man made and yet devoid of any solid life, "Deryck, are..." Kindred Emma's voice began to crack. Deryck turned around to face her and became startled as her natural orange tinge began to sink into a pale image of herself tempting to become a deathly pink hue.

"Kindred Emma?" Deryck raised his hand to reach out to her and made subsequent movements to get near her. Athis stood with a gentle yet shallow gaze and mouth slightly ajar unable to comprehend the established relationship between his friend, the human, and the alien girl whom had been granted into his company, "what wrong."

"Ahh..." she breathed deeply while she came to close her eyes and nod her head down to her shoulder attempting to cover her face into her tight red jacket to keep her cheeks warm, "I have to go home..."

"Why?"

"There's so much pain..." she continued to breathe deeply while muttering her sentiments under her breath, "I have to go," she turned abruptly and in a startled pace quickly made her way back down the sidewalk to get her acquired home on earth.

"She's quite the unusual one," Athis continued, "must be quite the freak to get your attention."

"Listen," Deryck pulled up his hands into fists grabbing hold of Athis's baggy green jacket and bringing him up close, "Razzi is going to get off these ridiculous charges and when he does we're going to come looking for you!"

Athis appeared unamused, "Deryck, I like you a lot...your minds not in the right place at the moment, your hanging out with an alien...pull yourself together," he knocked down Deryck's hands and watched as he stood back with a look of shock upon his face, "I'm going to go live my life to the fullest."

"Where are you going?"

"To be with my family," Athis responded heavily with his back turned, he hurried up the steps, opened the steel handled door and was quickly gone within. Deryck stood around the stairway up with thoughts of his next moves swirling around constantly, he turned to his back side to look for Kindred Emma but she was long gone.

"What am I supposed to do?"

* * *

"Athis then?"

"Once you get out of here, we'll just have to hunt him down."

Deryck sat down on a steel chair and found himself faced up against an inch thick glass panel that prevented him from coming in contact with his friend Razzi whom sat on the opposing end on a similar chair. He wore the same wasted wear of their adventure a near two nights ago and appeared to Deryck as though he had not slept in some days. Deryck sat motionlessly staring across at him allowing a near thirty second moment to pass, "what you got going about me?" Razzi asked Deryck upon recognizing this distilling environment.

"Did that guy, Rotund? Did you kill him?"

"No..." Razzi raised his chin and looked behind him at the black linoleum encased walls and viewing the little windows spaced by one foot dividers hoping to catch a glimpse of a guard or two listening in, "the dude's in critical condition though; my public defender says I could be facing manslaughter if he bites it which could put me in here for a lot longer and a three week stay on the criminal charges..." he leaned forward and looked up at Deryck, "I hope he dies..." he whispered lightly.

"Why?" Deryck fell back in Shock, "You wouldn't survive in prison long enough, you need to get out of here..." Deryck lowered his head and turned to his side while letting out a bewildering sigh, "you're not telling me something," he turned back to face Razzi, "Whats the deal with all the secrecy?"

"I can't divulge in that right now," a small smile crept on Razzi's face as he returned the lean forward and waved his left hand manically with his head, "I'm working for some higher ups now but so is Rotund, even more so in a rival grouping."

"Gang involvement?"

"Apparently this goes way higher," he nodded enthusiastically, "but common, if Rotund survives man I'm in serious trouble here."

"Why?"

"Dude has resources I lack," Razzi fell back in his chair, "he'll investigate all of us and probably have us killed after he's done torturing everyone we've ever met."

"What?"

"That's why I need you," Razzi raised his hand pointed it at Deryck, "I need you to make sure he takes the walk into the afterlife," Razzi whispered lowly but got it audible.

"Investigate? What about Athis then or me?"

"That guy deserves it obviously, but it won't matter if you give Rotund a proper burial," Razzi continued, "then we can do what we want to Athis, maybe even take up some inspiration from Rotund...going to take some years though, but I'm sure there'll be a break out plan somewhere down the line."

"I've never killed before," Deryck squinted his hands.

"Simple deal, just shove up his meds with bleach or something; get creative."

"I won't" Deryck mumbled.

"Rotund's near stabilizing from what I heard, soon as I'm out of this brief sentence the man has my number and yours, don't let me down!"

Deryck turned up to face him down, "I don't kill people, at least, I don't think I do..."

"Time to start getting real here Deryck!" Razzi screeched, "Its him or you. You got to make your life more worth living and provide some loyalty to your friends."

"Loyalty?" Deryck scoffed as he pushed his chair back scraping across the floor, "you openly lied to us and you admitted to it, that one kid got shot for his troubles."

"He back stabbed us," Razzi looked up at Deryck whom immediately shot up from his chair.

"And you admit to your lies; look what you've gotten me into here!"

"Man, I've done you a favour," Razzi continued, "I'm a have power when I'm out of here; Deryck, I want you with me, listen to me man."

"No," Deryck scoffed again while turning away and waving his hands in disapproval, "I'm not doing this!"

"Get back here man!" Razzi shouted now lunging at the glass panel and bashing up against it, "You leave this behind, I'm coming out after ya when I've served it."

"So be it."

* * *

"Shilo?" Deryck cried out as he ventured towards the square housing that contained the entertainer's treasure trove of devices and attachments that made his show such an enduring and admired spectacle. He came to a resounding stop and the door and placed his hand on the trim. Turning around he looked at the fairgrounds; the coarse running stones that comprised the ground seemingly had not been disturbed in some time, all rectangular housing forms seemed vacated and in a state of decline and no evident sounds, a staple at any fair, could be heard in the stream of silence, "Shilo?" Deryck shouted louder as he pulled the door and headed inward.

Deryck made his way to the centre of the large blue room, "gone?" he started to mumble to himself as he came to notice the room, once fumbling over in a myriad of objects, had vanished leaving the pastel blue colour to create the appearance of an empty endless space on the walls, floor and ceiling. He ran up to one of the walls and placed his hands upon it till he found the straight edge of its actual foundations, "come on you genetic anomaly," he bantered to the wall, "you hiding again...?" he stepped back from the wall and paused for a moment. "I'm in some trouble...I really need some help...Shilo?" he clenched up his right hand and began to berate it against the wall with anger; every continuous strike developing into a peculiar rage. He turned to the centre of the room and threw his fist down through the air, "gone!" he made his way to the door, "what was he going to do for me anyway?" He headed out back through the door and back into the main grounds of the backyard to the fair outside the colossal fair structure where the shows took place.

Greeted still with the new found silence, Deryck took a good look in all directions outside Shilo's now former laboratory, "something's not right here..." Suddenly he found himself evoke in pain which he related to his hands which drew back to his head to clench the sides of his temple to stop the screaming inside his head. He fell to the ground and clenched his teeth. With the pain passing, Deryck looked up from his position on the ground and looked forward at the coliseum. He picked up himself and proceed to follow through on a running pace towards the large door that stood as the back entrance inward for the staff, "Kindred Emma..." he muttered in brief tones to himself while maintaining a jaded tired breath. Deryck pattered down the concrete steps of the short stairwell inward to the hallway that lead to the large entrance way but was startled when he came to see the centre stage and all the personnel that occupied the surrounding area.

Around the outer ring stood a multitude of various forms of extraterrestrial life and their human friends, Gary, the once happy wise minded brute of a physical being now standing sullen near the entrance Deryck found his way in, Fraleel the chameleon like being revealing perhaps his true form a tall and gangly being of various colour patterns like sand on his feet and pastel blue to his chest, next to him was the bizarre drunk human figure whom no longer looked drunk yet still latched tightly to a full bottle of the sauce. Mixed in were the tall, the small and the averages of beings all turning now to face Deryck with their eyes of two, four and uncountable as he came to stop underneath the top of the entrance frame.

"Kindred Emma...Gary," Deryck called out in a coarse voice. He looked to the front of the stage where he saw the Councillor, the man whom had seemingly worked hard to bring this group together on earth, now standing in a humbled position at the centre ring along with a slime bucket of a being, a small like creature with an elongated large head that appeared small on the overall girth of his body; a pale grey with the variable strains of slime that seemingly ooze from its mouth. It wore a jacket with a collar that stretched up to his face and had in its massive paw a cane that possessed a relatively large red jewel at the top. Behind them stood five or more tall shaded people of the same size and muscular orientation with no visible or identifiable features; they just were and would in theory always be.

"Oh it's the boy," the slime being spoke with a rough touch as small slip of slim fell from his angled teeth and on his lip, "I thought I had felt a connection coming from her; she has already found her bond."

"Who?" Deryck called out, "What going on?"

Gary stepped forward and placed his squared off hands on Deryck and kept him close, "calm down," he said in his usual manner but his eyes betrayed a serious fear, "let the councillor handle this."

"Well, Mr. Councillor," the Slime beast continued, "I am quite the busy man...I can spare these people of yours, this congregation you have under your nefarious command," he waved out both of his large paws to the staff that had taken up the one half of the circular track around the centre stage, "if you'd be so kind to relieve yourself of this bigoted boy and release to me your wonderful dancer."

"You mean to kill?" the councillor responded with a state of uncontrolled shock.

"By your hand alone," the slime creature continued his thought, "I give you great power here, exercise it to save your people."

Gary turned around to face the stage and blocked out Deryck from view, "You can't be allowed to do such a tragic thing," he spoke up loudly in his voice, "this boy has done no harm and has shown no intention of breaking that trust."

"No harm," the slime beat spit up a chunk of slime and let it ooze to the ground, he let out a beckoning scream while looking over his shoulder. Immediately and without hesitation, two of the tall twisted figures behind him grabbed hold of a figure that knelt at their feet and brought it forward and tossing it to the ground of the stage near the edge.

"Kindred Emma..." Deryck stated while Gary dropped his jaw. Kindred Emma raised her head having been stripped down to her basic unitard and seemingly having been beaten. Deryck began to go into a form of shock when he saw that she was experiencing pain with every consecutive blink of the eyes and that her skin have continued further into a deathly pale phase. She reached out with her hands towards Deryck and Gary but was unable to hold them up very long before falling down over the edge of the stage.

"She's been attached to that mongrel human," the slime continued, "she's no good of a empath to me if she's bonded with such an devolved sensibility...he'll just have to go."

"What?" Deryck muttered to Gary. Gary stood his ground however intensifying his position in front of the boy.

The slime ball let out a sigh and returned with a disgruntled facial dislike for the situation at hand, "there is little need for this boy, you on the other hand, I have always had great need for the large brutes; you will do well as an enforcing master on my slave ship..."

Gary seemed unamused and continued to stand his ground; "perhaps then it is the universal rights of freedom and the right to life that is getting the better of me," he raised his hands up and extended the full strength of his muscles, "this boy has a right to his life as do we."

"Painfully unfortunate then," the oppressing force continued stepping forward toward them with a sneer and flexing his cane forward, "must his life then be placed on a higher pedestal then everyone else? Is it not in the interest of everyone here," he raised his hands in a wide formation above his head, "that this boy be killed, this girls existence be taken in my own, all so that the majority, the rest of you, be able to live with your notion of universal rights to freedom and life?"

Deryck and Gary looked around at the crowd before them as they attempted to look away from the two of them. Their drunk buddy attempted to nod but could only stand frozen keeping his lip buttoned up; they were tempting the urge to let all be done as it had been instructed, "if you allow this and think it right" Gary spoke up and looked around at all his friends, "then your more a monster than he is," Gary, "we became a family here when war and disease took away our planets, our homes, our families...we are not murderers, they are the ones whom have take all away from us; we cannot accept that our rights are more paramount than anyone others life; its their life and it is theirs to live."

"I'm afraid you don't understand," the infested being continued, "I'm not giving you any options."

"He's not even one of us!" a voice came out from the back of the circle. Soon, a few cheers followed in a similar vein.

"I will not be enslaved," another voice shouted. Gary looked across at Fralee whom turned his head away as he came to refuse acknowledging what side of the debate he stood on. Gary stood aghast at the situation and took in a deep breath.

"That doesn't make it any more right; no more sacrifices, I've seen too much death in my life."

The slime man leaned in, "I tire of this." It raised the cane it clenched tightly and with a wicked force of speed the red gem that graced its top design began to form up light energy which accumulated into a beam that shot across towards Deryck.

"No!" Deryck shouted as Gary stood in full strength taking the blow of the beam directly to the centre of his chest. Deryck watched motionlessly as Gary's mouth began to foam up while his eyes began to blot up with a strange blue liquid. The crowd went silent and seemingly felt nothing of the seeming loss one of their most trusted comrades. Deryck fell down to his knees and proceeded to pull Gary's head to his knees to give him something to rest on, "You evil aliens- you wonder why no one here respects you?" Deryck shouted keeping his hands tightly clasped to Gary as his breath grew more shallow, a black mark having torn up his shirt and pierced into his body. A tear rolled down the Councillor's cheek as he found himself unable to move or to react responsibly.

"Boy," the moaning of the slime beat continued, "no more stalling," he raised his cane once more and the gem began to fill up with energy, Deryck let his friend fall safely to the ground and stood up, fists clenched and outstretched to his sides.

"Bring it!" Deryck shouted as he thumped his chest. But as the beam was forming a second figure correspondingly jumped in the way; Deryck's eyes shot up as he felt a part of his mind fluctuate into a migraine and then die just as fast. Looking down at his feet he saw as Kindred Emma slowly made her way towards Deryck crawling over her dying friend to reach him. Deryck let out a deep breath as he immediately moved to pick her up.

"Please run," Kindred Emma placed her hands on Deryck's head and closed her eyes. Within moments, her head fell down awkwardly and without life. Deryck became infused with uncontrollable wraith which he aimed at the stage.

"For the life of me," The slimy being laughed, "I don't know why she would do that...slaves all around." He raised his hands to gesture the fair staff, "she's no good to me dead," he drew to a more serious tone.

"I'll be back," Deryck looked onward towards the man, "I'll kill you myself!"

"So let it be if you can," the creature tilted its head and turned abruptly to his men. Recognizing his own self being in danger, Deryck quickly darted back up to the entrance way and into the proceeding hallway leading out of the coliseum and into the opening free world.

"So let it be then."

* * *

The day caved into the darkness of night as Deryck propelled himself beyond his physical limits and ahead of the nightmare that had taken place mere moments before. Heavy panting and a careful distillation of concerned thoughts clouded his judgement of direction; however, with every step he felt a move of absolute authority, that no matter where he would end or whatever was to happen, he would most certainly find a method in which attain his vengeance. As this thought of death and destruction dawned upon his fragile mind, he tumbled on the cement of sidewalk on the out skirting town area near the places he had explored earlier with his now lost friend. He ignored the burning sting that infested his knees as he looked up at the traditional dominant architecture and the lights that shone from every consecutive street lamp, but there was no hope here, no one that would help. Though the traumatic experiences and numb pain of his body would have displaced any lesser mortal from continuing an confused quest, Deryck stood up and proceeded to run for any place where he could feel more safe.

Deryck left the sweet homes and kind lights to venture into the commercial venue of the city, knocking around through trash infested alley ways next to the tall glass and steel business superstructures and down the graffiti stained brick canvases of old apartment complexes and community centres begging for any civil attention in the form of renovation or demolition. He slapped the bulk of his body up against the wall of artificial brick outlay of the apartment building and felt the sting of his hand against the coarse texture; decades ago this was a flourishing community by the liberal standard it had set but now it had been reduced to a waste stand, but in this place Deryck felt his life returning as people of all unique properties made their trek along these areas to salvage whatever can be used to support their meagre living.

The moment quickly faded when a startling light came to be seen from above shining a valiant force of green upon the ground below. Looking upward, Deryck came to see the comet or star, a bright light of emerald energy making a quick descent to the surface of the Earth. His breath came to a stop as he watched the decent take the flying star behind the out-dated building structures. 'Follow', a voice seemingly began to shoot up in his head, 'Follow', it reassured him as he clasped his hands to the sides of his throbbing head. He looked around the street once more, noting its quietness and the dissipation of its life like qualities that the persons of this street were accustomed to. Pushing himself off the wall, he darted towards the direction of the falling green star making his way through the alley ways and unnatural streets towards what he believed had called him. He pattered his way off the main roads and alley ways to the out lining beach area facing the inlet of the major river leading out to the ocean and became startled at what had befallen him.

Smashed into the dirt ground forming a crater of glass and molten substances was a large imposing figure not native to the planet it had landed upon. It would have been a tall creature with big arms and suitable shoulder length that held together its large muscular girth. Though it had empty green eyes and large over biting jaw, all characteristics of a nonhuman, Deryck had seemingly overcome his xenophobia once more as he attempted to assess the condition of the being. It wore on its chest a logo, a lantern of green on the black cloth that comprised the majority of his body save for the gantlets and boots. Deryck came to recognize the origin immediately, "Green Lantern..." he muttered with some confusion. Deryck leaned down in front of the lantern's face and attempted to get a complete assessment of the beings living status; the glare was empty and the mouth unwavering, there was nothing he can do and he looked away with dissatisfaction. 'Put it on.' The voice returned in his head and he clenched his teeth as it shocked back into the state of reality, 'put it on', the voice continued as it appeared to be growing louder within his mind.

Deryck looked down at the creatures uniform and then across at its large hands and noticed laced upon one of the finger an ominous ring still glowing and awaiting its orders. 'Put it on', the voice became intensified forcing Deryck to quickly grab hold of the lantern's hand and strip it of the mighty weapon that it once used to fight for the side of justice.

Clambering back over the assortment of small dirt hills formed from the impact of the body, Deryck made his way towards the empty streets and took shelter in an old factory building a few yards away where the windows and the no longer function piping faced out towards the crater and the body there within. 'Keep me safe,' Deryck looked down at the ring as it began to dim in brightness till it became simple green coloured ring. He peeked out from the ground floor of the factory work floor and looked through the window nearest to the adjacent window to see the crater once more. He stood aghast now as a yellow figure, shining out all possible details of itself, descended upon the crater and shot out from an extended limb a beam of light from its being at the crater and its occupant. The beam came to a stop in less than a minute and the yellow glowing being propelled itself upward with limited body movement in a hasty retreat at an unacknowledged speed back into space. Deryck leaned back against the factory inner wall and looked at the shadows and lights that the moon caused across the work floor. His clenched fist began to open revealing the ring in the moonlight, "what now?", he brought himself to talk to it, 'put me on', it seemed to respond in his head as the glow of its energy returned in full strength.

Deryck raised his right hand in front of his face while instantaneously pulling his left hand holding the ring in its thumb and index finger. He took a deep breath and looked away for a moment before working up the nerve to place the ring on the middle finger of his right hand. Almost immediately, Deryck began to feel his body tremble as the green flow of colour began to intensify around his hand till he could no longer see it; soon it appeared that the energy was growing all around him and taking him over, his breaths became quick as fear and panic clouded his senses. He let out a curdling scream as he fell to the floor and attempted to grasp a hold of his head. Within a minute, his consciousness gave out and he fell flat to the floor allowing the green energy to course throughout his body without a fight.

* * *

"AHHhh...!" Deryck let out a scream as he believed himself to come back to consciousness. With startling intuition, he found his body to be at least in his mind in pristine condition still, he made the effort to analyze himself physically and upon this examination he found the ring firmly attached to his body, but this concern quickly faded as he came to realize that once again he was somewhere in his mind, "Kindred Emma?" Deryck stood up on the small planetary rock that floated endlessly with all the others though the colours of the world had taken to a new form; the gaseous sky that he floated through had converted from the orange and purple flavour of Kindred Emma's mind into a green substance as though the ring had placed its influence upon him and became the master fabricator. "Kindred Emma?" he called out once more as he turned in circular motions around the platform and noticed among all the others that floated with him were quite empty.

"I'm here."

Deryck's body jolted forward before quickly turning to his backside to view his friend, "your alive?" he beckoned as he try to come forward and touch her.

"No Deryck," she whispered softly. Her body radiated the conflicting orange tinge while she appeared to have retained her unitard only it had taken now to simple circular patterns of various green shades, "I'm alive in you...My connection to my body has ceased to be."

"Within me? Why?" Deryck pondered with a soft caring voice.

"I wasn't ready to say goodbye," she responded, "I was only just beginning to enjoy my life on Earth; there were so many adventures I had yet to take part in."

"I don't know what to say," Deryck replied with a confused nod.

"Oh come here," she pulled herself forward and grabbed hold of Deryck's numb dream body and embraced it with a tight hug. She smiled as she came to absorb his emotional essence. When they parted she tilted her head and smiled.

Deryck still remained baffled, "but you're in my head?"

"My soul essence is, I passed it on to you just before...?"

Deryck stood for a few seconds of silence, "yeah...thank you for that," he paused once more in his collection of thoughts as they manifested in this world, "but why? Why would you sacrifice yourself for me?"

She drew upon herself a frown and turned her gaze away clasping her hands on the opposite arms, "I don't really know I guess...perhaps because that's probably what I would have done for my sister..." Deryck let out a brief sigh as she looked away confused at herself, "I didn't like being alone...I couldn't imagine..."

"Alright, I'm a level with that."

"I didn't know if I was ready to go...if I had anywhere to go"

"Go where?" Deryck stepped towards her.

"Beyond his realm, my home beyond the physical," she turned around, "it's been so long since I've seen anyone...do you think maybe they're all there waiting for me? Or am I waiting for them?" her gaze went out into the heavens above.

"Well you can't be with them here...? It's still my head right?"

"I've never experienced this before...I was always told it was tradition to pass ones soul essence into their partner when they passed..." she turned to face Deryck and noted his uncomfortable position, "I didn't wish to impose upon you..." she in turn grew uncomfortable and grabbed her head, "I'm sorry," she quickly stated as tears appeared to be forming under her eyes.

"No, no," Deryck responded as he reached out with his firm hand to grab her shoulder and pull her close, "it's alright..." he pulled his head back and thought of where he really stands on the situation, "I'm sure..." he paused sympathetically, "that if I was in the same situation I'd probably do the same thing."

"I know," she responded, "I can feel."

"But whats wrong?"

She regained her composure, "like you said this is not my world Deryck," she reached eye contact with him, "I don't know how to leave..." Deryck stepped back aghast, "I'm truly sorry but I grew up being told that once both mates are deceased they would exist in the dream realm together for all eternity...you though, you can't ever be there..."

"You'll be alone when I'm gone?"

"I don't know, maybe I'll be able to move on...this is all just terribly confusing at the moment."

"OK," Deryck responded, "maybe there is someone on my world that can help us...someone that can help you move along...isn't there someone on your planet that can help?"

She raised her chin, "I haven't been home in a long time, not since the war."

"War? Is that the same war that took Gary's family?"

"No," she looked away from him, "this war was a war of gods...it's hard to explain right now but it's happening right now, in the past and present...I don't think there's anyone on my home world that could be of any assistance."

"Yeah, I won't bring that up anymore..."

"Alright," she turned to look down at her feet and kicked the ground, "there's something else in your mind isn't there? I thought you had found another empath..." her eyes bounced, "silly of me of course, no it was much more primitive, a child, but completely knowledgeable. It somehow locked in on you...I think I may have played a part in that."

"What?" Deryck pulled up his hand and saw the ring, "you think maybe that its this," he pointed to it with his opposite hand, "It told me to put it on, I think, but," he placed his fingers around the ring and attempted to pull it up, "I can't get it off," he bit down and attempted to do so with increasing force, "am I like prevented from moving things here, whats going on?"

"I don't know," she extended her hands to connect with his and flipped them over to take a better look at the ring. Her eyes grew as she came to recognize the insignia.

"It's a lantern ring," She nodded when he looked up to her, "I've seen them on television a few times..." he saw the shock in her eyes, "whats wrong with it? I'm sure they'll send someone to claim it...it just wanted to me to protect it from something."

"It's so scared..." She continued.

"Scared...scared of what?" Deryck questioned, "was it that yellow thing I saw?"

"Would you like me to let it in?"

"What do you mean?" Deryck revealed a new level of puzzlement.

"It's here within you along with me...do you want me to let it in?"

"I don't...I don't know..." he stuttered.

"It wants in..." her eyes widened.

"What's going on," Deryck looked up at the unusual sky as it began to become darker forming into a black musk that blotted out the green stretch. Deryck heart began to thump as he looked above at the large glowing object hovering down to them, the hard cut image of a lantern object descending and shining with increasing intensity as it descended upon them. Deryck and Kindred Emma both fell to the ground and looked up in horror as the light of lantern's beam from its core shone around and came to grasp them and blinded their vision in the dream world.

"AHHhh...!" Deryck screamed as his body instinctively shot up into a sitting position, "What is it doing!" he shouted once more. Placing his hands firmly on the ground he quickly absorbed the dust of the work floor justly concluding that the dream was over and he was back in reality. He let out a brief sigh of unhappiness before attempting to get back up but just as he was getting to his feet he found himself pulled away from the window facing walls and forcibly pushed up against one of the metal banisters that reached to the top of the six story structure. "AHHhhgg!" he screamed again but for pain and agony from all the moment. His head blotted out with various whites and blacks as he attempted to ascertain the situation at hand.

"What happened!" a sharp voice entered his ears as the full faculty of his body was just coming into focus. Standing in front of him was a taller human male with greasy short black hair and wearing a similar uniform as the lantern he had found out in the crater only this one had a few irregularities, most notable a sharp edged mask, a square shape that stretched from ear to ear and triangular jagged pieces on each side protruding from cheek to temple, "What happened?" his cries came out again with his body ready to pounce and his power ring aglow.

"What is your problem?" Deryck bolted back immediately as his feet lost its footing on the solid ground.

"The ring...what happened to my friend?"

"Put me down and I can explain!" the lantern let his grasp go and Deryck fell safely to the ground, "I don't know what happened," he began whilst shaking his coat back into a comfortable fitting, "I saw the thing fall from the sky and I just wanted to see what it was...that's all."

The lantern crossed his arms and looked down at the boy, "you're wearing the ring, His ring."

Deryck popped his eyebrow, "I'm not leaving up an opportunity to take what I deserve," he held up his hand that possessed the ring, "I know what its capable of...I think," he muttered to himself before returning to his strong tone, "I could really use this right now."

"Give it back," the lantern responded and raised his hand in a gentle gesture to accept the ring, "Now," Deryck crouched down a little as he began to tremble a little bit.

"OK," Deryck yelled in response, "But you know..." he started as he placed his opposite hand on the ring and attempted to take it off, "I could do just a..." he began to grunt as he attempted to pull it off with more force, "Its a tight one...it's not coming off..." he looked around and out the window, "I'm not still dreaming...?" he mumbled under his breath.

"Let me see," the lantern drew closer and grabbed hold of Deryck's wrist and proceeded to examine the ring on his finger, "something's wrong with it."

"What?" Deryck immediately responded.

"It's bonded," he threw down Deryck wrist causing him to momentarily lose his balance.

"That's a bad thing? Right?"

"Bad enough for you, worse for everyone else," the lantern responded, "well there is a way we could remove it from your body," he raised his ring hand into a fist. Deryck became shocked as he swallowed in fear and held his hands tight close to his chest. "Don't sweat yourself thinking to hard, I'm sure the guardians will find a way to coerce it off. But that's the least of your worries, did you encounter at any point a yellow legion knight?"

"Ah," Deryck looked away from the lantern as his thoughts of the events that took place before him passing out, "there was some shiny yellow figure that scanned the ground where...your friend...crashed, but he took off within a couple of seconds."

"The rings active now, it won't take him to long to home in on it and I'm not fully charged enough to defend it...you're going to have to come with me."

"Where?"

"I've got an abandoned building up north where I stored my battery," the lantern spoke as he walked up to the window and looked outside at the crater where is teammate and friend now took a permanent sleep, "I'm going to have to keep you a live long enough till more lantern gets here."

"Don't you have a league to fall back on to or something?" Deryck questioned as he too got closer to the window to look outside at the moonlight, "I've seen you all on the tube before."

"This is lantern business," the lantern turned around and head towards the adjacent darkened wall, "I'd only call them if it was a crucial moment, otherwise I'm just wasting their time."

"But this thing that's after this ring," he felt the ring in his hand, "isn't that dangerous enough?"

"The legion knight only wants to kill lanterns," he responded as he further deepened into the darkness and insinuated that Deryck come with him, "it's more a concern for a corp. Now come on!"

"Wait, are we going to fly or something?"

* * *

"I've locked my ring on to the one you stole."

"What? Woh!" Deryck became startled as he came to see a green strip of energy engulf every portion of his body, "what's this all about?" his eyes widened in a bit of fear.

"We don't have time to find a cab," the lantern jumped up from the hard sand ground and was taking off into mid-flight, his ring hand aiming downward behind him with a stream of green energy geared at the coating that had engulfed Deryck.

"Oh, this is going to be interesting," Deryck commented as he tensed up his muscle for the inevitable jerk upward. In a thrusting pull, the dirt around Deryck's feet blew away as he left the safety of the earth and entered the atmosphere. Deryck quickly felt head pains as the propulsion and the quick movements of his leader left little time for him to adjust; however when he made it to the sky he found himself to be of little fear, in some way enjoying the new unheard of experience. Looking to the ground, Deryck found himself peacefully absolved of the problems presented to him below. The housing, the various ground formations and the endless engrossing factory structures seemed to all blend together into one super structure; he paused in his breath for a moment to absorb and take in the experience and what affects it would have for him once he was back on the ground. Everything was an admirer of its silence, "so what's special about this ring," Deryck called out to the lantern just over a metre away, "why does this thing want it so bad? I swear it was talking to me...what kind of a ring talks?"

"The power ring has an in built computer created by the guardians."

"The who?"

"Unimportant to you at the moment," he sternly responded, "this ring however, is a new design my friend and I were testing...the guardian decided to give it a conscience, a living ring."

Deryck looked down at his ring and examined its brightness, "and your friend?"

"He was selected as the best suited to test it," he responded, "Narog...he was one of the most level minded moral people in the entirety of the corp," Deryck nodded to himself privately, "It's a real crime that he's left the world like this."

"What is that thing that's after us?" Deryck questioned after allowing a moment of remembrance to pass.

"It calls itself legion...but it's not really," the lantern turned his head back over his shoulder to look down at the boy, "it's hard to explain really. It's a combination of essences that managed to find a way out of the its universe that the Guardians had blocked off; they hate the corp with every fibre of their existence so when they learnt of the possibility of possessing a new kind of ring, one that doesn't select its wielder, they were quick to find the opportunity to get their hands on it. There's no telling what they might do with something like it."

"We almost-" Deryck's words became fumbled as a distant yellow light suddenly made itself present in under decade of seconds muscling its way through the energy cord connection between him and his lantern provider.

The lantern found himself quickly drawn to the yellow figure which pulled downward back to the earth and through to the already desolate building structures Deryck was certain they had already left behind. Deryck was overwhelmed with fear now as he watch the green and yellow figures mold together and quickly dissipate into the structures causing ripples of loud noises and explosions that was sure to keep the world awake a moment longer; however, this seemed to be the least of his worries when he suddenly began to realize that he was still in the air.

Without a moment to contemplate a thought on survival contingency or even to scream, Deryck plummeted down to the earth waving his hands manically and kicking his legs out as he had a tantrum all while he headed down to the hard ground below of which he was certain his body would be pulverized to mush and the objectivity of his existence would cease to be. As he fell picking up mileage with every second, he clambered his hands to his face to protect himself from wind and the awful sight below. With imminent death approaching, Deryck looked within himself for the last time to apologize to Kindred Emma as his last thought for not have given her a chance to have been free to move onto the afterlife with her people; all that was her would be lost now in this one dive. All this would have been if not for the intervention of the ring.

Deryck felt the wind no longer, but recognized his body was still well intact. With clenched teeth, he pulled down his arms to take a better look at the incident unfolding and almost immediately upon gaining visual awareness his body jerked and contorted in various formation as he founds himself somewhat hovering a half a mile above the cement below with the green glow that surrounded and cocooned his body. His tense muscle relaxed and he felt his body up from leg to head with his hands as he became eternally thankful that he had benefit of surviving a no doubt fatal scenario.

* * *

"Lantern!" a gruff mechanical voice echoed. A yellow figure was pressing down hard on the rather limp lantern body as they plummeted through the wooden roof complex of a factory facing towards the major river's inlet; its large claws of yellow metal were pressed up tightly against the lanterns shoulders and was forcing him into taking the brunt of the damage. Wood shingles and various metal pipes of all sizes sparked together and flew wildly into the air streams to be picked up by the wind caused by the motion of their speedy decent. Through the roof and down through the top floor with enough force to collapse the majority of it on to the floor below.

The Lantern coughed as he slowly attempted to get some strength in his body, he felt the hard black shingle floor of the working office floor; though deserted as it was for many years with no chance of inviting the touch of innocence, this was not where he desired to have his last stand take place. He bent his neck upwards to take a look at his threatening foe all while keeping his body flat and sprawled out allowing it recuperate from the inflicted pain that his body had become so accustomed after so many years of intense combat.

The recent enemy that had come into the lantern's life made a loud thumping noise on the ground of where he laid followed by the release of some form of pressure that originated from inside the beasts armour plates. It was a tall mechanical creation of sorts, broad shoulders with giant bulges on each side that connected across the collar and extended in a long strip down to its abdomen. Its arms were overly bulky but conformed to the normal humanoid standards with the exception of its hands which were four large fingers that were connected by ball like device which allowed for the fingers to rotate at will and form clamps if necessary. Of its menacing facial design, it was much to difficult to assess an interest beyond its mysterious horizontal lined steel cage upon a bucket like helmet that seemingly blended into the neck region and connecting to the rest of the body. Though it was possible to see through the small cage bars, there was an absence of anything living behind it.

The legion lifted up its massive boots and pounded it down upon the lantern's chest whom found his physical strength overcome by the massive weight though he attempted all that he could with his feeble human hands to remove the force that prevented him from getting upright, "The. Ring!" the legion blasted out again while leaning down to the Lantern.

* * *

"He's in trouble," Deryck coldly spoke under his breath, "Got a do something fast!" Deryck hovered at a reasonable distance from the events unfolding below and began to treat the air as though it was a platform from which he could walk upon, clasping his hands together and shaking his toes he attempted to plan out a scenario, "I just need something to hit him with!...woah!" He fell down on his back and turned to face the ground again, upon realizing his safety, he turned back to face the sky and noticed that something of important had managed to form itself ahead of him.

Getting awkwardly upright Deryck looked at his ring and followed a stream of wispy green energy flowing from it to a large hammer like creation that was nearly the size of the six story factory structure below him with a circular mallet face that look strong enough to splinter the ground, "this'll do."

* * *

"The. Ring. It's. Here." the legion knight enunciated ever more loudly as it raised its head from facing down the lantern pinned beneath his might jaw like hands. With the graceful movement of Deryck's ring hand, the green fabricated hammer swung from the side connecting the circular face plate with the side body of the Legion Knight. The force of impact punched the residing lantern to ground where as the yellow knight was tossed awkwardly against the wall all while scrapping black chunks from the floor surface and creating a massive hole through the concrete walls taking the floor above and bits of the roof with it.

The lantern raised his head and caught a glimpse of the saving grace of the green hammer dissipated into complex lines which in turn proceeded to become simple blueprints and then into nothing revealing the figure floating above it, "come on," Deryck shouted down to the lantern as he lowered himself down to the structural collapsing floor.

"It works..." Kyle commented with shallow breath.

"What does?" Deryck asked in response. Once on the ground entirely he buffered his arms around the lantern's neck and pulled him up so that he was sitting up properly. The lantern's eyes were sullen and pains and ailments of various kinds permeated his consciousness as a smile was forcibly growing.

"Yellow."

"What do we do?" Deryck commented pulling the lantern even further up, "I don't think it's going to take too long for that thing to recover."

"We need to get to my power battery," the lantern grunted with his teeth biting down and opening very little, "I don't got much left in me, help me get up."

Deryck locked hands with the lantern and pulled him up from his position on the ground. The tall and well-built heroic figure shook himself into proper order and looked across to the young man, "think you can keep the power up enough to fly reliably?"

"I don't know, I'll try," Deryck responded unsure of the question posed.

The lantern raised his ring finger and a spark of green energy flew from it, "I'll have it link up once more but we're going to have to be moving quick."

Deryck lifted up his right leg and prepared the rest of his body for the flight, "so do I like jump or something?" the lantern nodded his head and shot the string of power from his ring to the ring the boy possessed; soon the boy found himself well covered again in a green coating and the lantern raised his arms and propelled himself upward to the stars through the roof of the factory. Deryck quickly found himself taken up in this motion also and was back above the city once more.

Deryck turned back to look down at the damage done; the yellow menacing knight appeared to be much dimmer than as it portrayed itself earlier but this quickly changing as with every passing metre into the sky and into the distance of the decaying city sections, the brightness level was steadily increasing.

"We're almost there," The lantern yelled back. The lantern tugged Deryck along the inlet towards out decaying ruins of the city where architecture of past decades and near centuries were still present and dominant. The lantern slowed down as he took to a sturdy decent towards the larger apartment structures that layered the beaches but were disconnected from the water by a large brick laid fence. The movement caused Deryck to do a loop in the air as the slowed pace of the lantern quickly turned into a dive bomb towards one of the more decrepit buildings in the region.

It was a well-worn structure that extended relatively high above the factory building but was no less different in the outdated design of outer laid brick lines as a design all around to cover the black wood and steel that comprised its structural integrity. The windows, some boarded up and others smashed through, all stood equally apart from one another, six on every side and nine going down save for where the large two-part door interrupted the pattern. The lantern turned from his descent and made an easy landing on one of the windows that remained unclosed. He pulled himself in as Deryck positioned his body to be a flat as a board to avoid being smashed up against the window's sill.

"This might take time," the lantern stated as the link between their energy faded, "keep an eye on the window for the knight," Deryck turned towards the window and careful analyzed their sole source of light in the forms of the multitudes of stars.

"You make very many travels into space?"

The lantern smiled shortly and nodded his head as his ring shot up a beam of energy into the nearby drywall, "almost every day," he responded with restraint as he came to find the source of his power, a solid green lantern with a circular base and top and an inner core that shone and sparkled like green fire. Embedded in the wall as it was, the lantern non-the-less came up close to it and reached down with his mortal hands to grab hold of it, "this might take a while," the lantern stated as he raised his ring hand and looked at the spark it created as he quickly and efficiently shoved it into the flame at the centre of the core.

"Great, how long exactly?" Deryck asked as he continued to analyze the skyline and came across some startling information.

"A few minutes...is it here?"

"Yep, bout three blocks back shinning like the sun!" Deryck shouted as he fell back from the window perch he had taken. He bit his lip down and nodded his head, "I'm going to slow it down."

"No its wants the ring," the lantern pleaded but kept his attention on his own power up.

"So what was the plan with your friend there? What was working best?" Deryck shouted in a quick response as he placed both hands on the inside window trim.

"It absorbs energy, but it's slows down significantly when it's absorbing and even then...we thought it might have a breaking point."

"So let's explore it."

"What?" the lantern scoffed.

"Let's give it what it wants...all of it!" Deryck then felt a shock of pain in his stomach which caused him to fall from his balance and hit the floor hard. He pulled himself up, knees bent and hands holding his back upright while the lantern turned ever so slightly to see what the issue was.

"What's wrong?" the lantern called out.

"OK," Deryck muttered to himself. He pulled his ring hand upright to his face and watched as it suddenly began to light up and spark. Deryck jolted up to a full standing position and spread his limbs out as the ring shined to the point of the details of his hands became blurred. The effect continued and spread throughout his body; eye's shut and teeth clenched down, Deryck let out a loud moan as the energy emitted from the ring took him over completely and lit the room with a new powerful source. The glow quickly faded and the features that comprised Deryck became all that more pleasant. Standing tall, a new lantern began its start. Bulky green boots extended up to his knees with octagonal shaped pads that seemed to be separate piece but connected entirely; engrossing his arms was the hard green material that formed up his form arms and spat off the elbow with triangular shapes while holding tightly to his hands but allowing for his fingers to be free. At the ends of his shoulders continued the octagonal shaped bands that continued into green shoulder pads and extended down as in a slanted shaped to his waist with an green, but empty, octagonal shape square in the centre as his insignia, "ah awesome!" Deryck shouted as he clasped his hands together in a jilted excitement.

"Ah," The other lantern grumbled.

"What now?"

"You forgot the logo."

"OK." Deryck nodded in response. He hopped up on inner ledge of window and looked outward as the bright yellow light of their foe which continued with its never ending quest to accomplish its goals through the collect its early prize. "What kind of thoughts do I need to fly and fight?"

"Stay here!" the lantern shouted, "I'm almost done."

"There's no time," Deryck retorted, "I'll be dead before you figure out how to work that thing." 'You can make it,' Deryck head hanged low as he heard the voice returned. He squinted his eyes as he raised his head to face the oncoming foe a within that moment he leaped from the window. With a slight drop, the energy of the ring transformed him into the hero he desired as he raised upward into the air with glorious speed to bring upon justice to the enemy whom wanted nothing more than for him to die; "I've made far too many enemies today," he muttered to himself as he raised his ring hand forward while keeping his body flat as he ascended to the yellow shinning knight that now came within distance of his new arsenal. With its magical touch, the ring shot up its energy ahead of Deryck and formed an extension of his fist at a size that out did the entirety of his body. He was at first shocked to see this development but quickly latched down his teeth and grunted as he pulled himself in the preparatory position to lay this wrath.

The sparkle of light shone as the magnitude of the large fist came into contact with the Knight. The yellow monstrosity flew further into the air on a curve back down to the Earth but managed to regain its balancing in the air mere metres before crashing into the river. Deryck followed the flight path of the beast of its major beat down and floated down to the river cut off from the city in a park like area with various trees and plant life dominating all aspects of the ecosystem. Deryck floated down with now having fully developed green fists the size of large boulders dangling down near to the surface; "ready for more?" he called out as he came within touching distance of the tree tops.

"Yellow. The. Ring. Has. Never. Worked. On. Me. Before!" the Knight yelled as Deryck flew down ready to lay down both punched on the figure, one after the other.

"It what?" Deryck questioned just as his fist was to come into contact. Rather than find the experience common experience of one two forcible energies intertwine, the green power fist of Deryck's dissipated into wisps of smoke as it came into contact with knight, "What is with this yellow stuff?" Deryck pondered to himself.

"Time." The mechanical voice interrupted his thoughts, "You. Will. Perish. But. The. Ring. Will. Live. On. Through. Me!" The knights body crouched down flattening out and appearing to be more bulky than originally imagined. Deryck flatted back beyond the tree tops as he noted the Knights impending assault upon him. The mechanical movement of the body pole vaulted itself at full length making a desperate lunge at the young lantern. Though the claws were ready and open to suck the life out of the boy, a quick reacting counter green light appeared at a blistering speed and grabbed hold of the boy's chest and carried him in the distance allowing the knight to miss its target and distance itself significantly as a result of its acquired inertia.

"What happened?" the elder lantern questioned Deryck as he let him go to float on his own.

"I don't know," he replied, "there's something faulty with this ring or something, it's not working on him no more."

"It's a work in progress." The lantern responded as he adjusted himself to a fighting stance prepared and ever ready to take on the knight whom regained its standing in preparation to return to the battle.

"What are we going to do?" Deryck questioned as he got closer.

"I got another member on the way to help counter," the lantern responded, his gaze never turning from the returning foe, "hopefully we'll be able to put enough energy into it, for now let's kill time." The yellow dot in the distance burst into a radiant shot of colour as a circle energy field formed around it and shot off in its one directions; instantaneously, the mechanized beast shot up at a unparalleled speed and became intricately recognizable in less than a seconds notice; "Well that's new-" the established lantern stated but before he could complete his thought the felt the force of Knights claws around his waist and propelling him upward towards the atmosphere above Earth.

Deryck remained motionless watching as his sole protector became a distant object; his emerald colouration becoming less visible in short time. Crouched at the knees and clenching his fists tightly, Deryck drew down from his mental will power and flung himself upward towards his potential death or heroic status if he were to come out of top.

"Hey!" Deryck yelled upward as his ascent proved to be a strong match for the mechanical monster. The elder lantern looked back down to the earth in horror as it quickly turned to simple lights and the tops of structures. 'Give it to him' the mental voice returned as Deryck instinctively clutched tightly on to the knight's metal shoulders and then proceeded to handle through the machine's neck region with his flesh holding hands. "It's this you want?" Deryck shouted out as they near breach of the atmosphere. He pulled his hand around the machine's head and showed him the ring while the lantern in its grasp continued to fight for air while grabbing hold of the claws deep grip. The knight seemed to watch the ring intently as the ascent above the earth began to slow down and the grip around the lanterns neck becoming looser. With a moment's notice, the knight drop the lantern just as he was losing his ability to breath who then fell into free fall back towards the pull of gravity. Deryck continued to straddle the connection of the helmet to the body armour as he retracted his hand and attempted to reinforce his head lock. "Ah crud," Deryck lightly mumbled to himself as the claws of his enemy proceeded to pry his hands off with absolute ease and slowed his decent till an inevitable stop. It held up Deryck by the arms for a near ten seconds before turning their direction back down to the Earth. Deryck's head turned back down to face the lights and structures as they slowly morphed back into their traditional standing from the ground.

The knight pulled Deryck's body up in one hand and then chucked him with enough force to toss the young boy through a small glass office structure building on the outskirts of town and right into the antic loft of a decaying old brick building behind it surrounded by the forest. Deryck shone like the green of other lanterns as he came in contact with the glass debris at first that shattered from his weight and then the wood panels and the now so familiar brick layout which, despite all traditional held views, appeared to disintegrate when he came into contact with them.

Deryck moaned as he sat up to take a look at the situation at hand. He looked at the hole in the roof that he had caused and then through the poo office building which had erupted into a series of fallen pipe lines, smoke and bent small beams of steel that had originally kept the shattered glass a whole. He placed his hands on the wooden ground and felt the dust collection with his fingertips; no one had been her in a long time. With little time left, he quickly analyzed the room; to his left a small window in a triangle crevice, and to his right a flat wall that appeared to be made of concrete blocks despite the illusion of brick laying on the outside, without the hole being present, the wall would have followed a similar pattern of tan coloured paper perhaps to cover the dry wall in the middle and the brick on the outside. He propped up to his knees and felt the floor over, the wooden beams being brittle and insecure in their moorings, and then the rectangular panel in the floor with a folded wooden ladder on top.

"Boy!" the Knight shouted as it came down and smashed down on the roof sending more chunks of debris and brick to the ground below, "The. Ring!" it raised one claw and Deryck became startled as he watched the swivel ball began to move rapidly and four fingers turn to sides creating the propeller blades that could no doubt be used as a buzz saw.

Deryck panicked as he attempted to squat back further against the broad wall, 'give it to him', the voice became more present in his mind, Deryck clenched tightly on all his muscles, "Fine!" he shouted as he dove at the Knight and punched the ring through the horizontal cage mask just as the knight was bringing down its claw upon him.

* * *

Upon reaching a state of consciousness, the nearest person to have officially been called a green lantern quickly took a nose dive back to the earth in order to search out the boy and the monstrosity whom had taken up on him. He was approaching the inlet when he noticed half a mile away a large ball of light beginning to form; with a quick thoughtless pace, the lantern bolted in the direction and higher into the air but unfortunately arrived just as the explosive properties met its pinnacle and engulfed the house it was stored in.

The explosion lit up the night time area as it's yellow composition became the a sun light item much to close to the earth. Shard of green energy followed outward like glass piece that bent and conformed along the strict circular patterns of the bursting cocoon. The lantern covered his eyes as the light became blinding and shouted with much dissatisfaction uncertain as to whether anything inside had survived.

When the field of its reached died down to nothingness, the lantern took to searching for what was left in the rubble of which he found to be very little as it had been vaporized through the expansive force of the explosion. A beam of light shone down from his extended fist but only to reveal the elevation of the dirt where a small structure has once sat, "Boy! Can hear me? Wish I had a name," he stated as he distanced himself from the building to get a better look, "ring, can you locate any other rings in the vicinity?"

"What, I'm here!" Deryck started up behind him and came on par with the strength of his new power carrying him.

A sigh of relief fell on the tall well-meaning lantern, "How did you get out?"

"I always have a way out," Deryck responded with a sign of pride in his undertaking, "So you think that's it?"

"My ring hasn't located any of his remains...guess you vaporized him."

"Really?" Deryck looked a bit shock, "is he dead."

The Lantern shook his head in dumbness then turned to face the young boy, "it was never really living to begin with; its survived through worse...I'm sure that won't be the last time we'll encounter it."

"We?" Deryck shot up with a smile, "am I keeping the ring?"

"What?" the lantern responded with immediate shock, "what's your name."

"Ah, Deryck," he responded hesitatingly as he rubbed his hands through his hair.

"Kyle, I trust the situation is well in hand."

Both of them looked up as a third source of green energy had emerged from the stars and was slowly but surely. He was average sized man, slim and tanned and moved gracefully with purpose and spoke like an oriental wise man one would only encounter in the winter mountains, "Deryck this is Kai-Ro," Kyle mentioned as he waved his hand affectionately at the appearing lantern.

"The Green Lantern," Deryck stated as he came to recognize Kai-Ro, "you've been on television one few too many times."

"Kyle," Kai-Ro spoke softly and aimed towards his fellow corp member, "how did this young man gain a ring."

Kyle slowed down his state of mind, "Narog has fallen, sacrificed himself to avoid being captured by the Legion Knight," Kai-Ro lowered his head, "This boy stole his ring but," he turned to face Deryck with a smile, "I think he's done quite a fine job with it, he has quite the potential."

"I'd like to give the ring back," Deryck started but when he looked down to the earth changed his mind, "you know when we're on the ground, but," he started to pull at the ring again, "I can't even move it and up or down my finger."

"The bond has been sealed?" Kai-Ro asked Kyle.

"It is so, though I can't imagine why."

"Perhaps," Kai-Ro hovered towards Deryck, "there is something more to the boy than can be anticipated from his age."

"What?" Deryck asked as Kai-Ro placed his hands on Deryck's face.

"This will not affect you," Kai-Ro said in his wisest tone and he closed his eyes and Deryck subsequently began to feel tired. "there is a iota of light and potential within his mind," Kai-Ro opened his eyes and pulled back allowing for Deryck to regain full consciousness, "the smallest iota indeed, but one that will outshine through the darkness so that all may see it."

Deryck shook his head, "what does that mean?"

"In time you may learn," Kai-Ro turned to Kyle, "the ring is grafted to him. Just as it was with Narog, it cannot function without. I shall bring my report to guardians, until then I expect that this boy be well taken care of."

"Uh, sure," Kyle said hesitatingly, "back to earth sounds fine."

"Your duties are to the development of this ring, this boy has become that duty."

"Very well," Kyle responded with ease.

"Go in peace," Kai-Ro pulled his hands together, "I must depart for my own duties."

"Alright, see ya," Deryck fumbled out as he outstretched his ring hand waving around the true Green Lantern of this Earth as he distanced himself and away back into space, "so I'm keeping the ring then?...I mean I'm not looking forward to the hand surgery or anything..."

"It would appear so, but you'll be under close monitoring till the guardians call upon you."

"Deryck, don't you have a family or something? I'm sure they must be worried."

"Oh, that's right," Deryck lowered his head and shook in a dissatisfied state, "I got to go take care of something," he stated as he turned away and prepared to bolt into the distance.

"What is it?"

"I don't have time!" Deryck shouted as he darted away from the scene light a green form of lightning.

* * *

Deryck flew down to the fair park instantly noticed the lack of lights and happiness that it once secured to all whom visited. Following through to the back where his new found friends had lived while entertaining and working on its grounds. The grounds appeared to be untarnished as he came closer floating a few feet above them, he scanned through the darkness at every building, all of which were intact but found them to be noticeably empty, even Kindred Emma's place had been stripped of its belongings.

Realizing this to be normal throughout the area, Deryck quickly made his way to the central tall standing structure, the coliseum like building where the incidents that led to the death of his friends had taken place earlier in the day. He found the place to be dark and unusually quiet; save for himself and moonlight coming through the small windows at the top of the building, no light could be found strong enough to light the floors. Deryck fell to the ground and walked up to the area where he last saw his friends alive; he went down to his knees and scrapped at the small sheet of dirt but was unable to find any trace that they had very been there. The green aura around his body slowly began to dim as the ring appeared to die; Deryck watched the ring slowly degenerate with his emotional state.

"What happened here?" Kyle questioned as he came in through the large entrance and stood behind Deryck.

"I suppose I lost some friends here," he responded, "friends who saved my life only a few hours back," Kyle nodded as Deryck gathered his affirmation, "it's been a strange few last days...I've been threatened with my life three times, I've lost someone, and I've gotten something," Deryck stood back up and raised his ring finger and watched as its glow returned, "to help me in my battles. Is this all normal in your life?" he turned to face Kyle.

"More than you think," he responded crossing his arms.

"I need my revenge."

"What are you thinking Deryck," Kyle tilted his head as he became more concerned at his line of thought.

"I don't want to be threatened anymore; they'll all be scared of me. He's out there and I'm going to find him and make him pay with his life," he stated with passion while holding his fist upright.

"Deryck," the boy turned to face his new caregiver, "what happened here?"


	8. Nightwing 3

Nightwing #3  
Volume 1. Story 2.  
The Soulless Mind

_Chronology:  
__Pre-Young Justice #1_

* * *

"Good, you're finally awake," Cassie commented as she turned the corner of the kitchen and into the entertainment room. Across the floor Todd sat down on the long three person couch facing the wall size television screen which protruded the grotesque violence of lightning charged weaponry breaking through the decaying flesh of humanoid monsters in the most pristine of visual perfection, "I've been at the office for..." she turned down to face her watch, "almost ten hours, how long you been awake? You get anything to eat?" she further questioned as she walked around the small wooden dining table and towards the couch.

"Been up nearly ten hours," Todd responded with a raising eyebrow but never turning his complete faculties and reflexes from the screen, "I can't believe I fell asleep..."

"It's perfectly normal operation of the body..." Cassie's voice slowed down and slurred as she became fascinated by the fictional violence in her home. She leaned up tight to the couch and turned down to look at the sides of Todd's blue eyes only to find them shifting ever so slightly and glowing with the reflection of the television lights, "how long have you been playing this?"

"Since I've woken up," Todd quickly responded, his hands nimbly working away at the separate controller modules in his hands, "this is my ninth attempt to break level forty...my allies are noobs!" he raised his voice smashing his fist held controllers onto the couch.

"You're going to turn into a vegetable," Cassie commented with some concern in her voice.

"Nonsense," Todd quickly nodded away, "Grayson and I played this everyday, keeps the reflexes sharps; plus I have to starve myself of sleep in order to get back into to achieve REM schedule efficiency."

Cassie furthered her examination of her young nephew noticing his body seemed to be well more pale than the usual tone of his kind of people, "I think you're a little sick. Maybe you should get some more rest before you become more active."

"I haven't eaten," he quickly shot back with disgust.

"So?" Cassie nodded her head in dissatisfaction.

"I haven't the time to order anything in and your cupboards are mighty pathetic."

"Aren't you just the happy one," Cassie placed her hands on her waist.

"I once starved myself for two days," he responded with diligence, "however, I fear that I have exceeded those days with the lacking of consciousness...what happened?"

Cassie's eyes wavered, "What?"

"What occurred when I had lost consciousness..." Todd thumbs appeared to slow to a stop, "I think I was drugged...was I drugged?"

Cassie's mouth fell open and her eyes went wide but just before she could respond she heard an unusual yet familiar sounding ring tone from the kitchen area. She turned away from Todd abruptly and headed towards the origin, locating with her acute vision the rectangular device that was glowing on the kitchen counter some distance back. She carted herself off around the dining room table once more and back into the kitchen picking up the device in her palm and viewed down at its glass screen attaining the contact's name. She briefly looked away at Todd and then back at the phone impressing her thumb upon the glass sheet and scanning the changing glow of the screen, "Todd," she spoke up with a light tone, "I have to go somewhere again, and you should really get out or at the very least get something to eat. You're not superhuman."

"Can I come?" Todd's eyes went wide as he spoke up loudly. The violence of the screen quickly died down and turned to black as the remote button turned it off.

"No uh," Cassie spoke with an undertone of sadness, "its a family matter that no one else can really attend to but..."

Todd turned around and jumped over the couch gliding across the floor up to Cassie, "what do you mean, but who?"

"Todd," Cassie turned around to it, "I don't suppose you know much of your family's heritage," her eyebrows popped up, "but I don't have time to discuss it at the moment," she turned away towards the hallway leading to the exit door.

Todd quickly followed in pursuit, "but maybe I could be of assistance anyway, I'm good at learning on the spot," he came up close to her and grabbed hold of her hands but she turned her head up and an awkward tilt looking down to him.

She pulled herself away and continued on her path to the door, "no, I'm not going to be able to bend the rules this time; you're going to have to talk to Diana about these matters."

"What matters?" Todd continued in his pleas, "not taking your jacket?" Todd pulled her black sleek lawyer jacket off the wall table and pulled up to her to grab.

Cassie looked down with thin eyes and an unamused grin, "I don't need it," she turned her attention to the door reaching for the circular knob and pulling towards her and making herself scarce to her apartment through the crack opened. Todd Grabbed hold of her hand just as she was making it out the door, "ouch!" she lit up a bit as she turned to face Todd whom had turned away with a sense of surprise, "did you just pinch me?"

"Sorry," Todd raised his hand in a gentle gesture, "I guess I misunderstand my own strength."

"Yeah, sure," Cassie nodded with sarcasm as she proceeded into the carpeted hallway, "get some more rest, no more games."

"Alright," Todd watched the door close with a huge smile beginning to form across his face.

* * *

"She flew off in her costume."

"And you immediately felt like your presence was deserved?"

"Indeed."

"Even using our Bat-technology to assure your deserved presence?"

"As it has been then," Nightwing sat comfortably in the cockpit of the Blue Bird, hands curled up around the handle bars lighting up the blue electrodes that created computer chip like patterns all the way up his forearms. His body pushed up tight against the cushioned chair and his head stayed focused on the slanted window watching the clear blue sky ahead. The craft took to flying low along the ocean spreading a wake of white moisture up into the air, "I have an invested interest in whatever activities she is up to whether personal or heroic."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, she claims to be family...and that whatever she's dealing with is a family matter..."

"But you said that she explicitly told you that you couldn't come."

"I felt compelled to go OK?" Nightwing barked back into the communication grid.

"I'm not trying to argue with you...not getting anywhere anyway...but don't you think that this personal matter can be held on her own? As she had planned? She's quite the capable heroine."

Nightwing shook his head as a shiver crawled up his back, "I'm sorry, what?" He opened his mouth and attempted to give his dry mouth some moisture, "I wasn't listening."

"Don't play with me, I can shut down the blue bird on the spot."

"It's my vehicle," Nightwing shot back, "I'll have my revenge if you invade my personal property."

"It's not exactly yours..."

"That's not how Wayne stated it to me," Nightwing leaned forward in his chair and crossed his arms, "anyway, I had to hit her hard with the bio-tracers; was too concerned that her strength would be outweigh the strength of the injection."

"All's fine then, I'm still reading her signals fine on my end."

"I'll keep my current distance for now; what could she possibly be going to in the middle of the ocean like this?"

"Maybe there's something wrong with the ocean?"

"A family matter? Really?...oh Poseidon...nah." she shook his head from side to side.

"She might be related to the mythical god, though I know nothing of the factual existence of such an entity. Don't you know your own family?"

"Not really, like I've said; I was only ever interested in Superman and Batman...Wonder Woman was always just so unappealing to me."

"I'd hate to imagine why."

"Wait," Nightwing leaned his head forward to look at the on board computer console which sent out the radar signals that returned Cassie's flight movements, "she fluctuating?" he paused questioningly.

"She's gone on my end."

"Yeah...she just disappeared..." Nightwing's voice choked up, "I got to find her!" he spoke up with instant rage quickly pulling him in. He fell back into his chair and pulled his hands tightly onto the handles to propel himself further into the distance across the ocean causing the trailing wake to reach above and beyond the craft itself, "can you boost the signal? There's no way the nodes would have given out already! Proxy?" He called out with his full attention on the seemingly empty field of water ahead, "Proxy?" he continued to shout, "this is where she fell off the radar," he pulled down on the handles slowing his personal craft to a crawl as it hovered above the murky water, "do you have any sign of her?" He waited for a moment curving his head downward in to the craft and placing his right hand to his ear in an attempt to affirm the status of their radio communication, "Proxy?" he shouted once more.

With the moment for response quickly passing, Nightwing turned his head upward hoping to be able to find Cassie with his own senses but instead became startling surprised at what had appeared before him seemingly arising from the water itself. Ahead was an outstretch of land with various cliff formation that appeared to begin from the right side of the island and moved upward to a larger area that occluded the view of the evident land extensions. A long strip of beach was at the bottom of the long and high cliff which possessed a lone path leading up in zig-zag pattern to a plateau of rock that sat at the middle of the cliff and extended out and away from it. Upon this plateau was a white stone one story building with a bubble roof and four pillar holding up the classical Greek design outstretching roof extension granting shade just before one hit the entrance. Surrounding this area were trees and shrubs of varying shape and design which continued up the continuation of the path up the ledge of the cliff and onto the seemingly main part of the island.

"Is this what I think it is?" Nightwing stated letting go of the handles and placing them on the slanted down windshield of which he looked up and examined the island. He fell back into his chair suddenly and nodded to himself allowing for a small sigh to exit from him. He looked around at the controls and saw that they had returned to normal operating status but that all radio connections to the 'outside' world were still quite severed, "must have some sort of dampening field surrounding this place..." He placed his hands back onto the levers and pulled the ship to a slow descent to the strip of beach nearby.

The dark thick plated top jolted with energy leading to its abduction by the slanted blue tinted window which in turn slid down into the straight hull proper revealing Nightwing's head whom immediately placed his hands on the ledge and pushed his body up away from the now brightened cockpit. He proceeded to analyze the crystal clear water, very much unlike that of the ocean he had passed through, and the soft sand which was layered lightly with various small branches, shells and dried water plants. He purposefully fell off the ledge of his landed vehicle landing with both feet which were immediately engulfed in the clean beach sand. A quick glance in all directions towards the peaks and the structure there upon the nearby plateau shared the complete silence of any form of rational life save for himself; he believed himself to be totally alone but still a shiver crossed down through his spine as though he was being watched. With strong steps to break the traction of the sand, Nightwing made distance from the safety of his vehicle and headed into the direction of the well-worn path leading up to the classical aged structure of which defined this part of the island for him.

With every step up the carved in slope in the cliff wall resulted in the lowering of Nightwing's back as he found increasing difficulty in making it up the decently long pathway. The continued bodily ascent increased the waddling of his head and with every pass away from the ocean and to the cliff allowed him to see the plants and trees growing within and above the cliff face; however, it was on the turn of his head towards the ocean that blinded him from the assault on his head. The thump upon his cowl aimed his head to the floor instantly resulting in the loss of his motor functions for a near five seconds. Regaining his movements he flipped on his side and found himself facing up against a spear aimed down at his neck. He raised his head slightly in order to get a good look at his opponent, but apart from attaining the basic humanoid structure in his mind, he found himself completely blinded, "What are you doing here!" the shrill yet soft voice shouted out to him.

"I got surprised by a girl?" Nightwing responded with a mix of sarcasm and dissatisfaction. The spear drew closer to his neck and he began to feel the push at his amour as it became tighter to his neck, "Alright, maybe we can work things out?" he pleaded.

"Who are you...?" the girls voice broke down into a lighter tone.

"Nightwing," he responded with some hesitation, "I don't know where I am...I was just coming to help my friend...I lost her in this area..." he raised his hands and held them open hoping and as he did so the spear became lighter in its touch, "have you seen anyone unusual besides me come through these parts?" he uttered with a calm sense of character.

"I ask the questions!" the voice responded returning to the deep ordering voice, "where are you from!"

"Look," he raised his hands upward. With quick speed Nightwing threw his right hand across his neck and knocked away the steel tip of the spear away from his neck, he then proceeded to pull his knees to his chest and with the same quick motions pushed forward upon the knee caps of his enforcing agent which caused her to fall back on the slanted path. Nightwing flipped over from his back on the ground and allowed the friction of his boot soles and hands to slow him to a stop.

The girl across from him quickly rose to her feet using the spear as a staff which she then proceeded to lean against keeping the spear tip above her head; Nightwing squinted his eyes as he bypassed the sun's full operational glory. Before him stood a girl near his size and perhaps close to his age even, she had a curved face that ended in a well-defined rounded chin. Additionally she had large green eyes and red long hair tied into a single tail by four large gold rings slightly above her head. She wore a white toga like uniform with a short skirt that went down longer on one end and extended upward towards the gold chain belt. She tilted her head down and clenched her teeth as she leaned up against her spear preparing to pull it forward.

"Where am I?" Nightwing shouted as he came to a stance prepared for combat. She curved her head to one side and allowed for the spear to fall to the side only to be caught by her hand once more and pulled forward ready for combat. "I don't mean you any harm," Nightwing stated, "I just want to find my friend," he raised his hands reassuringly, "where am I?"

"You're on Themiscyra..." Nightwing jolted and then froze with his hands still up in place; deep breaths began to overtake him as he came to understand the circumstances that brought him here, "how did you find your way in here?" her voice seemingly became more friendly as the spear fell to her side and she assumed a much more casual appearance.

"Like I said, I was just following my friend."

"Only permitted people can cross on our shores."

"Yeah, well I got through and I'm not leaving my friend in trouble."

"Your friend," she said softly as she stepped forward, "she?" Nightwing nodded in affirmation, "who is she?"

"Uh," Nightwing began hesitatingly as he pulled his right hand to his chin in contemplation mode, "Cassie Sandsmark; of course, I guess she's not in trouble though if she came here," he turned away from his new friend, "but then again she did get called here for a reason, maybe that's trouble enough, anything happen here recently that would require a guest appearance?"

"I..." she started confused, "don't know..." Nightwing nodded his head and lowered his back while looking up at the mysterious house at the end of the cliff edge, "who are you?" she spoke up intelligibly keeping to an honest soft tone seemingly unaccustomed to her character.

"Oh," Nightwing turned back to face her and stood upright with his hands spread out to his sides, "I'm Nightwing, the Nightwing," he tilted his head and locked eyes with her as he pulled out his most pride filled grin, "you know the super hero?" she stood unamused and understandably nervous, "well that's OK," Nightwing commented while turning back to the path and sift his hands through the air as if to throw them to the ground, "I guess I'll just have to work on building a stronger profile."

"What it's like out there?" Nightwing's mouth dropped as he turned to face the girl, "man's world, is it everything you would want it to be?" Nightwing's eyes shot up in a bemused gesture as he found himself falling to the ground, his mouth slightly ajar. He crouched up against the edge of the cliff and sat flat on the hardened sand of the path and looked off into the distant ocean which appeared to be clean despite his adventure through it a few moments ago.

"What kind of a silly question is that?" he pondered sarcastically, "doesn't Cassie tell you all about it?" he said with a dominant happy face while placing his hands on his arched knees.

"I don't know," she said looking down at the sea while she sat down next to him, "afraid she might talk to my mother; don't want her to know that I have any feeling about leaving this home of mine..." a silent moment passed, "What's it like then, your home?" she spoke up much loudly while turning to face him with a excited facade.

"I don't know, it's quite the market place for ideas with such great accomplishments...but I don't suppose," he turned to look her straight in the eyes, "everything could be perfect, with every new accomplishment there seems to be a spawning pool for..." he threw his hands once more into the air, "great evil and pain."

She looked on him with an open jaw, "but it changes does it not? What I wouldn't give to live in a world where day after day a new adventure is on the horizon," she turned and faced out to the glistening ocean, "your home though? You feel the longing to belong there?"

"Home..." Nightwing looked down at the beaten dirt between his knees, "no," he turned to look up at her before looking back down, "I guess I feel needed in this one," Nightwing spaced out and allowed the quietness to overwhelm his and her thoughts.

"I really believe I belong out there, every time someone outside the island comes I rush to them in hope that I may ask them questions of their world," she pointed beyond the ocean," she turned to Todd whom appeared to have spaced out, Whats wrong?" she spoke up sympathetically reaching out an hand to clasp his shoulder.

"Well then," Nightwing slapped his hands to his legs and pulled himself up, "who are you then that you be so welcoming?"

"Deyna," she responded with courtesy as she too pulled herself up to full strength.

"Well then Deyna," Nightwing began, "thanks for not affecting me too hard."

"Maybe you'll be wearier when you come across an Amazon."

"Amazon?" Nightwing turned with a puzzled frowned, "if I encounter one any time soon it would be too soon; they all hate me." He turned his gaze towards the building up ahead and felt the shiver return down his spine all the way down through his legs causing him to momentarily lose his balance, "what's in that place?" he questioned his new found companion and pointed across at the small structure.

She tilted her head around Nightwing's body and extended hand to take a good look at the building also, "that is Sezekial's home, she's among the islands oracles though she does not come outside often; I have not heard or spoke of her in more than a year's time."

"So how does she do..." he nodded his head with uncertainty as he looked upon her, "her activity?"

"She calls upon those whom she feels the message is deserving."

"And how does that go?"

"I'm not certain of it myself," she responded with a dazed look as she pulled her hand to underneath her chin and pondered the question further, "you just feel it..." she dropped her hand and looked up at him.

Nightwing turned to face the classical building up the pathway, "alright then, why don't we check it out?"

"For what purpose," she eyed the spear at the side of the cliff.

"I feel woozy here," Nightwing responded with his gaze never leaving the plateau, "its unlike any feeling I've ever had before, I normally tempt logic on this kind of thing, but my training in that area has never been all that keen..."

"What does that mean?"

He turned to her and nodded his head enthusiastically, "perhaps I came to this strip of beach for a reason outside of just meeting you..." He turned towards the structure and headed upward towards the plateau and the building that was constructed upon it.

"I'm coming with you," Deyna spoke up and quickly reached up to him and met him on pace, "you know, in case you're not everything you claim to be," she looked at him with a wink.

"Very well I suppose, this is your home."

Step after step with backs straightened, the two made their way up to the hard trotted path towards the bubbled topped stone building. Nightwing placed his hand on the one of the inner pillars and felt its grooves which layered all around it with his fingers. The four pillars held up the outer outstretched roof that from their position blotted out the sun above it. Straight ahead at a short distance was the shade filled white plastered wall with a wooden metal hinged door at the centre, "so...do we knock?" Nightwing turned to face his companion whom had come up close to pillars. Without much opportunity to speak, the heavy door in front of them seemingly unlocked with a loud bolt noise and then fell down half an inch before blowing open inward. Nightwing and Deyna curved their heads inward to take a look inside but could only view that of the glint of multiple glass bottles that were on a shelf near the entrance; but other than this, the darkness of the inner building presumed itself dominant, "well that puts the question to rest," Nightwing retracted from his posture and moved forward towards the opening door calling upon him. Deyna looked on but with the closing of her eyes she took a deep breath before following up on him.

Nightwing pushed towards the glass bottles of various sizes and capacities that carried fumes and objects of varying colours and flavours; they all sat upon the wooden shelving that was strongly bolted into the stone wall immediately behind it, "hello...?" Nightwing called out as he turned to face the entirety of the room now recognizing that the cabinet wall is the sole portion that prevents the room from being a full square, "perhaps no one is home?" he turned back to Deyna whom nodded in dissatisfaction.

"I doubt as much," Deyna spoke up through the blackness.

The two were startled suddenly as a scratching sound wound through their ears before being followed by a light source that grow with volume; a flame erupted at the centre of the room quickly casting shadows all around. Nightwing manoeuvred from the cabinet wall and with Deyna made their way towards the flame and figure whom held it upright above the ground like a torch. "Hello, Sezekial...its Deyna," the girl started as she waved through the region of the room keeping one of her hands strong on the wall attempting to hold herself upright in her paces through the otherwise poorly lit room.

"Sit with me son of the walls most high and daughter of the general," the voice was coarse and elderly but non-the-less spoken with a respectable strength. Nightwing was momentarily in a surprised shock as he came to highlight the appearance of the Oracle: a decaying woman siting cross legged on the floor with a black shawl around her head that used the coverage of the shadows to blot out the intricacies of her face save for the lively lips and the clean, but pale, skin there around; she certainly sounded much older than as to how she would conceivably appear in full viewing, "there is no reason to fear, I know of all of you...please sit with me so that I may abide with the passing of my given task at hand...I have called you."

Nightwing looked across the floor at Deyna whom had managed to embed herself in the corner of the two adjacent walls; they nodded with an acquired understanding and together decided to make their way to sitting down with the Oracle. "You? Do you mean of me?" Nightwing beckoned as he took crossing his legs down ahead of the flame still held up by the Oracle.

"You, son of the walls most high," the oracle shot up as she lowered her head and placed the flame down on the dusty floor where it took to lighting up a circle of blue light, "you, I have very much for..." the two watched the floor become a circle of a pale blue light that shot up all around the room and seemingly echoed as they felt the door shut with a gust of wind, "but first you must join with me, there is but a quest you have to accomplish."

"A quest?" Nightwing questioned with signs of laughing on the rise. Deyna looked across at him and elbowed him slightly in the arm. His body jolted as he came back to full awareness.

"Please remove your facade and become your truth."

"What do you mean?" Nightwing grew to a serious tone.

"Todd," the Oracle began with the voice of an omnipresent god, "I do not deal with those whom seek to conceal themselves."

With hesitancy in his mind and with doubt appearing at the forefront of every word he could say, Nightwing felt the urge to pull down his cowl and pay heed to the council of the Amazon oracle. He placed his hands quickly at the edges of his mask but slowly pulled it down to his back side revealing his black hair and bright blue eyes which seemingly grew and glowed in the light of the blue flame. Deyna looked at the side of his face and seemingly recognizing him, she bit down on her lip realizing whom she had just recently met.

"What of my new friend Deyna?" Todd asked, "can she abide me in my quest?"

"It may be so, for she may be of near equal important."

"Importance?" Todd's jaw dropped, "Importance to what?"

"Look upon the flame," her simple response shot through the two of them freezing them in their acquired positions on the floor. Smoke of green, blue and red hues seemingly fused together and shot up around and above the circle moat of fire and permeated through the air, a small smile grew upon the Oracle's face as the Todd attempted to reach for his cowl but found himself incapable of moving any part of his body save for his eyes which darted to the furthest extent to this left where from the corner of his eyes he found Deyna to be stranded in a similar situation. The smoke soon grew to cover his eyes before finally blotting out his senses causing his mind to slip from its concentrated format; consciousness was lost.

* * *

Deyna let out a deep long moan as the murky darkness ventured into her eyes causing a sudden pain of sickness in her stomach; she believed herself to be on her knees and worked successively to achieve an upright position. With the assistance of an unknown hand she found herself easily propelled upward and onto the soles of her feet, "are you alright?" a strange voice invaded; she closed her eyes tightly and pulled her hands to surround her head, "Deyna?" the voice came in more clearly as she came to recognize her helper.

"I'm fine," she coldly responded straightening her arms to her sides with force.

"OK then," Todd smiled and distanced himself from her.

"Where are we?" Deyna squinted her eyes and attempted to attain the important points of her immediate surroundings. The two of them were in a circular cave that extended upwards like a pyramid to a smooth stone point; rock jutted around the walls and appeared to be soaked in some sort of moisture creating a shield of goo. Todd and Deyna drew their attention to their sole light source, a circular well on the floor which comprised the largest portion of the room. They headed towards it and knelt down at the edge; the hole was a swirling wake of green light flowing freely with humanoid like figures of white taken into the force of the waves lacking any notable details save for the heads, torso and limbs.

"What do you suppose this is?" Todd asked looking down at the seemingly endless swirls.

"They're souls," Deyna fell backwards then stood up and backed herself up against the cave wall, "we're dead?" her breath became shallow and short.

"No," Todd firmly responded while standing up and turning to face his companion, "why do we have our clothes then? Why aren't we apart of this?" he outstretched his arm to the pit, "though mind you, I've been stripped of my Nightwing gear," Todd looked down at himself and patted his legs up to his stomach with his bare hands, "first order of business," Todd continued in a commanding voice, "is learning where we are,

"Yes, but-" Deyna attempted to speak up but could just barely get over a whisper.

"Do you have any idea what this place could be? What kind of access would an Oracle have to any soul filled caverns? Perhaps there's myths or stories regarding such a place?" Todd continued to speak as though he was rambling through questions all while maintaining a difficult serious pattern.

"Tartarus..." she responded softly under her breath which came to a stop.

"The Tartarus?" Todd looked down at the cavern floor, "how are we supposed to get out of here? I'm not ready to go," he lowered his back and looked at the cavern floor, "I've only just arrived." He turned to face Deyna and immediately noticed her distant behaviour. He sighed a bit and came up close to her placing his hands on her shoulders and attempting to catch her gaze, "I'm going to get you out of here, OK?"

"I'm not scared!" She eyed him down and pushed down his arms with her own, "I can get myself out of this."

"OK then," Todd stated backing away hands raised with palms fully visible, "we should try to figure out why we're here then."

"What did Sezekial say to you?"

"There is some sort of quest that I need to partake in," Nightwing looked back down at the well of souls, "I'm thinking it has something to do with where we are..."

"Or it could be a test," Deyna spoke now in full command of her worries. Todd faced her up, "maybe she's saving you or preparing you for something?"

"Interesting theory...but don't you wish she picked a better place to save 'me'?" he said with a hint of sarcasm, "regardless there's no reason for why you should be here," he looked at her sympathetically, "I'm sorry for dragging you along."

"Do not place your concerns on me," she sternly replied, "I chose to come along."

"Alright," he nodded his head in satisfaction, "let us see if we can find a way out of this cavern."

"You know...you look a lot like..." Deyna began with a low voice.

"I know," Todd firmly as he placed his hands on the cavern walls and felt his hands gracefully fall into the moisture thick coating of the rock where he got in depth with the crevices and striation lines that populated the surface.

"So your her child?" Deyna clasped her right hand over the wrist of her left and hand and kicked her right hell into the floor.

Todd nodded to himself while keeping his hands on the wall and moving around in the circle, "I don't think she sees it as such..."

"Why? What happened..."

"Ah Yes! That's amazing!" Todd shouted in glee as he brought his feet together in excitement. His hands had seemingly pushed forward through the wall which appeared to be moving for him but never exactly moving all at once, "It's an optical illusion, all the crevices are lining up with the stones of the wall back there, come on!" he shouted as he waved his hands and began running down a slanted pathway. Deyna followed suit by circling the well but arrived just mere moments before Todd had come face first with the wall. Todd reached his hands to the top of his face as he fell to the ground with a twist so his back came against the wall, "ouch!" he shot out as his hands dropped to his sides.

Deyna slowly walked down the path affirming herself with every flat sandal clad step. She reached down her hand and lifted her head upward while keeping her eyes down on the hurt boy below her. Todd accepted the gesture and with the help of the young amazon, he found himself back on his feet, "thank you kindly...let us move forward..." he turned and pushed his hand forward ready to go into stride only to feel open palm connect with another wall, "I suppose using your illusions are done at this point..." Todd patted his tight under armour and followed Deyna down the extension of the pathway in the opposing direction of the wall. At the end was seemingly the entrance way into a much larger area and with every consequent step the noise of flashing wind and screams became all that more audible, "what going on in this place?" he openly questioned while reaching a step further up ahead of Deyna attempting to reach the end before she could at her own rate.

At the end of hallway, Todd clasped his hands tightly on the edge frame till his cheek almost came into contact with the moisture ridden yet jagged edges of rock. His eyes widened as he scanned the area, "what do you see?" Deyna chimed in as she came on par with him. They found themselves standing on a large well-trodden earth bound ledge that ran up to an infinitely high ceiling and headed downward towards a never ending basement. Other ledges of only a foot thickness crisscrossed through the darkness of the world above and below caressing the familiar jagged soft toned walls of which many countless entrance ways went endless from left to right, high and low, all possessing the ominous glow of the souls in the wells the room held. However, much to their relief, the caverns above, though glowing strongly, also appeared to possess a red tint that dominated as though there was a large light shining through a cellophane sheet, "it's everywhere," Deyna spoke as she placed her hand on Todd's shoulder facing inward and pressed her body up close to his.

"Noted," Todd sternly responded. He shook her off and approached the edge of the pathway more than two metres away. He dropped to one kneed and felt down under the ledge, "how are these things keeping us up?" he pondered as he rose once more to face her, "the souls? Are they screaming for help?"

"That doesn't sound like screaming," Deyna looked up. Todd followed suit spreading his arms out looking up at the glow of light above and the furious black winged figures floating around through the growing smoke cloud that occluded complete details.

"Perhaps its best we go back in the cave and rethink coming out here?"

"Stand our ground," Deyna responded sharply as she pulled out from underneath the exit way and pulled her hands to her side forming fists, "let's see what we're up against."

"They're getting closer," Todd's jaw dropped as his gaze upward was tortured by the bellows of smoke making way for an increasing number of creatures becoming larger and more complex with tails, long snouts and spikes of varying sizes along back and at the edge of large majestic wings. The smoke collided with her frame as Todd dropped to the floor and looked upon a massive winged dragon with a long diving strip of sharp teeth and massive claws, four to each limb that tightened themselves deep into hard pathway reducing it to ash around them; all of it black without and discernible features save the the red eyes with beamed down hate upon the girl's courage to face it up. It towered above her at nearly six times her height and bellowed out its disgust through the strength of a magnificent scream that caused her to scrunch up her face and repel herself but not once did she think of falling back even a step. Todd watched on confused and puzzled unable to convince himself of getting up and tackling her away and back into the cave from which they came, "come on Deyna move," he muttered under his breath as he attempting to lift himself with all limbs in the direction towards the cave entrance frame. The dragon raised its wings and prepared its flight away from them but it did not go away with ease.

A boulder of a size comparable to Todd and Deyna's collective body weight came from behind the two young ones and landed squarely upon the beast causing it to moan with a loud squeak and repel itself, another boulder than shone through and smashed up against the beasts sides furthering its recoil forcing the a quick wing spread flapping reaction, "Be gone you beast!" a booming voice rose above the beasts moans. Shaking its head and beginning its pattern of wing flapping, the beast took off into the air and aimed upwards to the endless light of the upper levels.

Deyna wiped the moisture down her cheeks while Todd turned completely to view her apparent saviour. A large beast of a man that stood nearly double their height and near just as wide with a physique that comprised mostly of nothing but muscle. He appeared to have fashioned a large one piece pale blue outfit that exposed the upper region of his chest and arms as well as his knees down to his bare well-worn feet. His beard was long and a deep wispy black black though it had held some strands of grey. His eyes were a much more sinister darkness with bushy eyebrows that never appeared to move even with the slightest of gestures. "Thank you," Todd started, "we all good," he said cheekily while pulling his hands together in a grab and held the conglomerate above his shoulders.

The brooding figure let out a grunt and aimed down towards Deyna whom slowly turned around with a wide gaze and a partially dropped jaw. Though her arms were spread out as far as she could place him she still lost her footing dropping to one knee looking up at her latest hero. Smile grew upon the giants face as he broke out into a hardy laugh, "excellent," he let burst out of his bloated cheeks.

"Well, don't just stare," Todd rose and placed his arms around Deyna's upper body. She stared up at the large man unable to remove her gaze from the massive construct of his body, "thank you for your assistance," he said with a smile, "were a bit lost, is there any way you could point us in the right direction out of here?"

"Who are you?" Deyna asked in a sweet voice with eyes never blinking.

"I am Omri, a giant imprisoned in the gods' deathly prison of Tartarus."

"A giant," Todd questioned leaving his grasp on Deyna, "you don't appear all that giant like," he furthered sarcastically.

"I assure you, outside of here I am the ten sizes the tallest mortal man."

"How unfortunate for you," Todd beckoned with his arms raised at his sides, "we don't know how we got here," he reached to a more serious tone, "I don't suppose there's an exit strategy out of this prison."

"I have been here for many years of your human times, I know not of way out of here except through the graces of the Titans above."

"Titans?" Deyna pondered to herself.

"But allow me to show you the extent of my hospitality, come with me that I may show you the commune of other giants."

Todd nodded his head, looked across at Deyna and then decided to follow the latest friend that their travels had brought. The giant Omri lead them along the pathway heading upward and seemingly turned around a jutting out portion of the cliff that only became clearly present when they were within three steps of it, "is this place all illusions? There must be a floor then that we're not seeing, or perhaps even a ceiling..."

"The entirety of this prison plays havoc upon the mind," Omri turned his chin over his shoulder to look back at his two acquired companions whom had trailed behind him some distance, "one could walk along these pathways and only to be walking in a complete circle yet he would be weary and tired as though the travel was much longer than it really was. I know not of a real ground to stand upon or a stone to touch above; these parts I feel are endless and puzzle bound."

Deyna got hold Todd's shoulder and pulled him further back from their leader and spoke silently, "Titans ruling over Tartarus?" she said with shock in her eyes, "this is where the gods of Olympus imprisoned the titans; It hasn't been like this for centuries. whats really going on?"

"I don't know," Todd kept his head forward and pace in proper order, "but I think its best we stay with Omri if we have a hope of getting out of here."

"Todd, you don't understand. The giants were killed by the titans when the gods overthrew them."

"Who's to say we're really in Tartarus?" Todd began in similar hushed tones, "we were with an Oracle, and maybe she put some spell on us...this could all be in our heads."

"This is a bad time to be in Tartarus, there is no way we can make it out of her alive."

"Why?"

"Champe, the dragons the titans placed in command at the exit way from Tartarus...no one gets out of here except through her and no one according to the Amazonian knowledge had been successful."

"Well then, let us be the first."

"I must ask," Omri voice boomed back at the two shaking them up. He came to a stop and turned around to face them, "what's the outside world like?" he continued, "I would do any such thing to be free of this bondage enforced upon me and my people; surely the world functions much better? Do the mortal men still fear our release?"

Deyna was prepared to speak but just as the words were slipping from her mouth, Todd gently came in and jabbed her with an elbow causing her to stand down, "you say that as if mortal man had much to fear, if that be so why have you come to our assistance and not as an enemy?"

"Ey," Omri nodded his head and turned back to continue the venture upward, "I am most certain that the titans feel you worthy enough not to be killed but that they find within their power to keep you entrap here forever. You must be of a respectable kind to cause such fear in them. Perhaps though, this is a fate worse than death, what is it that you two have done to evoke such wrath?"

Deyna was prepared to speak once more but Todd pressed himself once forward to bolster his position as the orator of his party, "I questioned the gods and their subjects one too many times but many of the mortals came to love me for it and thought they might learn their ways from me. I hoped that in death I may question the great heroes of old but it would appear that I would have only invoked their wrath also."

"You sound like a wise man, but surely your opinion has now changed; would you not wish to return home and suffer what persecution may bring you?"

Todd suffered a laps in judgement and could not bring his gaze from his moving feet, "there was no place I could be where I would not continue to ask my questions: to leave home..." he thought to himself for a moment of short silence, "to leave the land would be within my capability, but to escape this mind; that I do not believe I am within the ability of doing and perhaps maybe I do not wish to."

"Very well then," Omri responded, "your fate is your choice and you have narrowly escaped your condition the gods have given you only to be confronted with something much worse."

"So it would seem."

"I have much respect for your tale," Omri responded with a jeer of happiness, "I shall protect you that we may continue to learn from one another."

"What's over there?" Deyna questioned as she paused in her tracks. She raised her finger and pointed at one of the caverns in the immediate distance that the path connected to but allowed for a large part of earth to extend out of the stone wall like a balcony. The lone door there, just large enough for the giant to pass through, was decorated with red lettering that consisted of a very unusual cursive hand. She ran up close to to the wall and looked around all the edges and looked ahead into the darkness of the frame noting that the ominous green glow of the other caverns was absent.

"That..." Omri began but had much difficulty establishing the proper words, "my people are very uncertain about, our oracles and wise men have travelled here many times since the beginning of their imprisonment and all claimed to have been misled by its minimal teachings."

"There's something inside then?" Todd questioned as he drew closer to it.

"Indeed, a tower and crucible for someone claimed to be a god among men and the patterns and engraving upon the floor all of which remains unintelligible. It seems to be the only entrance way among the countless soul wells that sticks out in every travel, it's impossible to miss and allows for us a counter when a new circle beings."

"Well it's great that its being put to good use," Todd commented as he placed his hands on the wall and felt the indent that the red lettering had on the smaller stones that comprised the outer frame, "I think I understand what this all means...I just don't know how or why...I've never learnt any of this before."

"You do?" Omri questioned with absolute interest as he drew closer.

"The chosen ones may exit through here," Todd read aloud, "paraphrasing of course...all this poetic nonsense ruins all the dramatic tension mysterious writing makes." He turned to look back at Omri and Deyna. Deyna appeared pale like with her muscles losing their strength as it appeared fright had overtaken her eyes.

"Are you certain of this?" Omri asked still puzzled.

"I don't really know, I just know and yeah."

"We should report to the council immediately, come quickly please with me." Omri turned from the cave and quickly made his way up the pathway once more. Todd looked across at Deyna whom clasped a hand to her face and snapped out of her trance, she recognized Todd's glare and immediately looked away and moved with the intent of following Omri up the pathway. "My people live in the largest of caverns up ahead, please move quickly with me."

Todd slowly backed away till he met up with Deyna, with a small smile they headed upward the pathway following shortly in behind Omri making it through the stones of illusion that often caused the group of them, save for Omri, to be tripped up in their step, "whats so important about this?"

"The oracles have spoken of the chosen few whom will grant us access out of this imprisonment."

"You think I may be one of them?" Todd asked with slight puzzlement.

"It is a possibility, but why would the titans imprison one whom could bring upon them grave misfortune?"

Todd thought of the question vocally with himself as every step upward seemed to be bending and turning around the a circular pillar of rock and soft stone. As the two young people drew tired they placed their hands on the walls and dragged themselves upward feeling the moisture part through their fingertips. "We have arrived," Omri came to a stop where the pathway had ended. Todd and Deyna circled around the stone wall and found a balcony much like the one before embedded into the wall; however it possessed a much larger entrance way that shone a light blue that reflected magnificently against the small gems that caressed the ground outside. With the loud thundering steps that defined him, Omri ran towards the entrance way. The two quickly followed and pushed through the light of the tunnel with their hands raised to block the brunt of the light.

The two found themselves within a much larger cave structure than the one they had first appeared in stretching out to a hefty size of a standard football field with an oval doom of smooth stone absent of any noticeable crevices. A second smaller oval top appeared on the floor in the centre of the large cave and glowed with the light blue colour that reached every facet of the inner complex. Surrounding the lights source were large unrecognizable rock like formations. Looking around they watched as giants seemingly appeared through the walls at various sections to gather intelligence on why Omri was shouting loudly with indiscernible sounds.

A jolt of shock burst through the each of them when what appeared to be angular rocks around the rock began to move and turn with faces that suddenly appeared under the grey rock coloured cloaks. They were quickly surrounded at the entrance by beings of various heights but all stood significantly higher to their current stature. Omri stood next to them matching with their similar simple attire and broad length shoulders that carried their muscular girth; the home for the giants in purgatory.

"What is it that you have found," a larger giant walked through the pack with bouncing red hair and beard, "Omri?"

"These young mortals I have found in the cavern still breathing of their bodies, one of them can understand the writing of the titans' cave."

"Is this true," one of the rock formation giants stood up breaking from the cross legged position. The grey cloak fell to the floor and circled around the tall thin body a near foot and appeared like the being was floating with every movement. Both attempted to take a closer look at the figures face but could only ascertain a set of lips shrouded in wrinkles and a large circular nose that flattened out towards the forehead foreboding any position where natural understanding of eyes would be placed.

"Yeah," Todd stepped forward and stood next to Omri, "I think I can decipher that language for you?"

"And how does the boy understand this?"

Todd nodded his head with a disgusted grin, "the boy doesn't know how he understands," he said with a cheeky tone.

The tall figure turned back to his circle and seemingly glanced at all the others whom had barely broken the formation. It turned back to Todd and focused upon him intently; at that moment Todd became quite shocked and mentally distilled as the centre of the figures forehead revealed a single large eye that glowed with the now familiar blue with a single dot of black at the centre. The faces of the growing number of giants froze as they began to distances themselves away from the inner circle and come into contact with the walls. Omri stood motionless next to his new friends.

"Then it is time that we completed our priority of leaving this forsaken chamber," the figure moaned out in its unearthly voice. Upon hearing this the large majority of giants began to jeer and shout with absolute excitement which led to Omri jumping in and becoming fully involved with his own fists clenched and reaching into the air space above him. Todd smiled back at Deyna and popped his shoulders, "you must prepare now, the boy is one of them...he will bring us victory."

"So what's happening here?" Todd looked up at the giant Omri as the others moved back through the walls still shouting and taking their fists to their chests and the air.

"The council of Oracles recognizes you as one of the chosen," he looked down at the puzzled Todd, "you are to be the hero whom will lead us in the killing of the beastly dragon Campe so that we may all escape this deathly hole."

"Oh," Todd commented turning to look more intently upon the glowing orb and rising of the cyclopes, "I suppose that doesn't seem so hard."

"I must be with my brother's now to prepare for this conflict," Omri stated as he too followed the mass of giants moving into the cave walls with the echoing sounds of laughter and glorious shouts. Todd however was less than amused by this and uncertain of what his role was to be played.

The same figures whom talked to them moments before rose again from the circle and glowed its one eye down upon Todd from its towering position, "you must come with us, to the god's cave."

"The one with all the writing?"

"It is where your assistance to this cause can be fully realized."

"How so?"

"It will be shown. Follow us." All of the figures rose suddenly with their one eyes open and moved gracefully as if hovering towards the opening hole that the two arrivals had just entered through. They passed through Todd with ease as he was staring at them with unquestionable interest; Deyna however was out of touch with the current form of reality pulling her arms up and holding the inner region of her elbows with her opposing hands. Todd clutched her shoulder and she pulled up her head with reaction.

"Isn't this exciting? At least in the bit?" Todd questioned Deyna but while she attempted to nod all she could muster up was a shiver from her back to her neck causing it to tumble in all direction at a very slow pace, "come on, get ready for battle or whatever it is that Amazons do."

"Why won't I wake up," Deyna spoke quietly to herself while keeping her gaze upon the blue orb. After a moment of further contemplation, she began to walk backwards distancing herself from the orb before finally turning around and following Todd and the archaic cult like beings that stood near as high as the cavern forcing them to stoop their back lowly to reach through the large opening mouth of the cavern into the main prison realm.

"Where is this Campe?" Todd questioned stepping out onto the odd earth like balcony and heading towards the pathway down towards the define gods' cave.

The lead figure stopped in its tracks leading to the evident reaction of the five similar figures behind him whom kept their back lower. The lead stretched up to its furthest extent and waved its arms slowly to his sides, with what appeared to be a deep breath, the figure rose one of its hands and stretched out its long finger tips to point to the realm above, the red light suppressed from all magnification by the clouds of bellowing shades of smoke. The following five cult members bent their necks to one side and allowed the tops of their hoods to just nearly touch the pathway walls as they too looked upon the things above with their contrasting blue eye.

"It's above us," Todd stated looking up allowing for Deyna to come near to him as she too looked up. Above they could hear the screaming still regurgitating with the flapping of multiple dragon wings, "oh," Todd paused and let a small smile creep upon his conscious, "those 'little' dragons," Todd commented turning to Deyna to make an explanation, "there like the children of a much larger beast up there somewhere...wonder how long it would take to get up there."

The two turned their attention to the moving cult and followed suit heading down the path they had just rose up from and making quick paces to stay in line with the floating figures. Todd became increasingly puzzled by the illusion effects of this construct feeling himself around the area ahead where the path seemingly ended knowing full well that it did not, rather that it curved downward and the wall seemingly blocking it was actually much more in the distance than what the imagination would wish one to comprehend. Todd and Deyna looked down at the endless paths and frames and watched as they suddenly became populated by the numerous giants all walking and cheering humming an tune that started with one loud jeer following by a slower drawn out one the extent of which seemed to cause the caverns to shake with tension.

"It's starting soon, we almost missed it no?" Todd commented as he came to recognize the entrance way where the frame was red coloured writing decorated the surrounding area. Todd stood with Deyna on the larger balcony as they watched the uniform moving cloaks began to move towards the door with their backs slowly moving more so downward to get under the top of the frame, "but," Todd spoke up, "shouldn't I be with them? To lead them into battle?"

"They will go to their deaths," the lead figure responded with nary a motion to denote interest. They knelt to their fullest needed extent and headed through the entrance way towards the inner important region.

"What?" Todd spoke with a shocked tone as he pushed forward towards the opening while Deyna continued her motionless stance glaring at the writing circling it, "I thought you said I was going to help them be free?" Todd picked up his pace and ran forward reaching into the inner cave. He became surprised to find that the inner region was much smaller than the other caverns they had been in but unlike those this stood unique with a large bowl of rock stood upon a pedestal at the centre of a large circle that was separated by a moat which extended inward towards the pedestal in various patterns and jagged lines just under a foot in depth; all its facets shined in the familiar light blue. The six Cyclopes stood around the circle at even marked intervals save for the entrance where Todd stood along with a slowly moving Deyna, "what's here?" he questioned with anger now flashing forward.

"The Giants are mere abstractions of essences of past times that have ceased long to be of anything but," The lead figure at the opposing end of the circle started as he reached his back to the entirety of its length. The other five sat down cross legged and proceeded to assume the rock like positions they had held around the blue glowing orb, "they were never alive."

"What about you then," Todd questioned his anger becoming more evident.

"We are no longer living in your physical world; we are trapped essence placed here by your master."

"My master?" Todd dropped his heroic wrath emotive and fell to a state of puzzlement.

"You were his chosen one."

"Chosen?"

"The one designed to set him free."

"And what if I do that?"

"Then he will destroy all things. We are in contact with the Amazon you call Sezekial, she has found you and now we may be set free...and your master destroyed."

"How?" Todd beckoned with questionable intent.

"We must spill the chosen one's blood into the pattern," Todd's eyes became wide, "his blood will enable the passing through the dragon from this realm into the next," the figures moved their stringy hands and smashed them on the rocky ground producing a loud thunderous noise. The two nearest to opening rose suddenly and at a lightning speed motioned themselves around Deyna grabbing hold of her arms and raising her above Todd's full height. She screamed in anger and attempted to muscle her way through their lingering long finger tips that pressured themselves into her skin. He turned around suddenly and stood aghast at what events had been befallen him, "we thought you may not agree with our conclusion but your death will serve the better good."

"Good? You mean what you think is best for you?"

"We will escape and help the mortal realm escape from its coils much sooner...that they exist in in any state is the final solution that best serves all forms of consciences."

"And who would be ruler of the earth?"

"We shall take that full command."

"You would kill everyone for this one world?"

"This be your master's creation, one which he had defied us from having but now seeks to bring to an end without our opinion."

"I don't understand."

"He makes no attempt to save his friend," the leader spoke sharply and loudly looking around at his congregation, "His powers are not yet manifested..."

"Powers?" Todd eyes lit up.

"What is this?" the deep voice of Omri opened up as he entered into the cave and was shocked to find the levelling position that the angry looking Deyna had found herself in, "what has happened that you have treated my friends so poorly?"

"Omri," Todd turned to him and spoke as fast as he could without breaking down into the mire of incomprehension, "they seek to kill me for the use of my blood for some bizarre magic escape plan."

"But we are to defeat Campe with you as our champion, what is the meaning of these words oh Oracles."

"The chosen one must die so that we may all escape from this imprisonment."

"He's lying," Todd was quick to interrupt, "Only they will escape at your the expense of your deaths."

"Have you kept this from us?" Omri stepped around the cyclopes holding Deyna and looked upon the lead cyclops, "why have you deceived us?"

"It is not us whom have been deceiving. It is this boy whom has influenced your judgement to avoid his designed fate; we cannot defy his purpose."

"He's lying again," Todd shouted louder, "they want to kill me and leave everyone else in this hole, your friends and brothers are heading to their deaths as we speak; Campe is not going anywhere," he nodded with dissatisfaction.

"I have promised to keep my new friends from harm, even if that means from the likes of you," Omri shouted as he bashed his large fists against the side of the nearest cyclops holding Deyna. Todd immediately reacted grabbing her holding her in his arms, he placed her down softly with a smile and she proceeded to stomp her feet into the ground and shake the sockets of her shoulders.

"No matter, you were never alive to begin with," the cyclops spoke once more as the three opposing creatures made their way through the cavern out into the endless realm.

"We must stop this mad quest," Omri shouted as he headed up the pathway leading to the levels above.

"No," Todd yelled back to their leading man, "I think I can be of assistance in the upcoming battle."

"By whatever do you mean?"

"Let's get to this dragon first," Todd pounded against the pathway turning his head slightly to take a look at Deyna running up at incredibly faster speed of which she would sooner or later pass the two of them.

"They're coming," she shouted upward prompting their dual reaction of head turns that caught the glimpses of the illusions behind them from which the cult figures started appear randomly yet all in unison moving at a heightened hovering speed.

Todd felt his head become heavy and his breathing becoming shorter as every step upward, past the other entrance ways and the primary home of the giants, forced an increasing pressure of altitude upon him; Deyna triumphed through however reaching up to on par with Todd and giving him the gesture to power on. The pathway ahead curved around in the continuous looping circles that seemed to be all the same through and through but the red light above seemingly grew much stronger and the images of black flapping dots became more intricate. Todd and Deyna were greeted with an unnatural surprise, the numbered millions of giants carrying boulders and rocks of varying strength and densities carved from the walls with their hands were standing on the walls upright sharing only their heads and shoulder lengths, "How come we never seen this before? And..." Todd nodded his head in confusion, "how are we supposed to get up there it's just weird, there is just no limit to what is up or down here..." he continued his run while looking up at the red glow that took up the walls and reflected all over the distance, the loud screaming and rattling of the beasts above becoming more prominent with every step.

"Follow upward," Omri shouted to his companions as he ran up a one the pathway leading up along the wall and aiming down in a quick angle down curved towards the platform where the giants stood shouting and carrying their makeshift weapons above their heads. Todd and Deyna looked confused as they watch Omri's body seemingly twist and curve along the pathway till it became on par with the other giants. They followed the triangular path finding their own conversion looking down at the endless ground below with frightened empty gazes at the incredible sight of glowing green caverns and bellowing smoke that clouded the endless levels below them.

Upon this new floor the two found that it reached out far in all directions save for the region facing the floor. It possessed a multitude of large giants standing on near every inch pestering away at the red glow and black images now viewable in front of of them, "We must reach to the front," Omri cried out as he pushed his way through his fellow giants clearing a pathway for his young friends, "and put an end to this misjudgement."

Deyna felt the gruff muscled arms fall upon her as the path ahead collapsed in Omri's wake. The small girl by comparison was forced to push her path overcoming the lack of cleanliness and air quality which defined her home. With her chin raised, she too was unwilling to see this inevitable loss come to fruition. Todd kept his head low and charge through knocking shoulder and legs as he travelled along the long rows of giants all in an attempt to reach the front.

"He is here!" a giants voice moaned out above the crowd as it became plainly obvious that Todd, Deyna and Omri had reached the front. Todd turned around to face the enclave of restless giants and he suddenly found himself backing up in nervousness.

"This fight must not go on!" Omri shouted at the top of his lungs receiving the attention of the giants over the screams and bellows within the exit way ahead of them, "the cyclopes' have lied to us, in this desperate attempt we shall only be greeted with our deaths."

"Much better than staying here!" a response shot, "it can't take us all."

"But it will," Deyna spoke out gliding around Omri and standing in front of his massive arm, "Campe will do as she has been instructed to do."

"They have been deceptive of you," the giants made way for the fix cloaked cyclopes as they ventured through their own path wading through the gawking muscle men intent on glorious battle, "the boy will be the pathway out of this existence, he must be with us in the cave of the gods," the leader spoke in the drawn out voice that continued to leave traces of fear within Todd and Deyna.

"They are liars and thieves!" Omri shouted waving his fists to the floor, "they intend to kill the boy so that they may live themselves...we are to them but mere animal fodder."

"What is the meaning of this?" a well-meaning giant that stood among the crowd stepped forward waving his long crusted black beard that reached down to his stomach, "who has lied to us?"

"It is vital that we make our escape," the leader spoke, "the boy is our gateway from this realm, we shall return to save you in your entirety."

"I can help you now," Todd spoke up passing around Omri and coming onto par with Deyna, "I understand whats going on here."

"Todd you can't," Deyna butted into him pushing her hands on his inward shoulder.

He turned to her, "I know whats happening here...at least I think," he nodded with a glazed look.

"The boy will return to us..." the leader beckoned.

"No," Todd nodded with a smile, "we're leaving." He tapped Deyna on the shoulder and started to back up towards the fiery opening behind them.

"What are you doing?" Deyna shouted across to him, "Campe is here!"

"What, you're scared now? All of a Sudden?" Todd commented as he pressed forward.

Deyna looked back and became unquenchable when the figures of the distant giants, save for the pounding forward Omri, began to dissipate into simple detail-less images clouded in the bellow of smoke that arose from the ground and the mouths of the smaller dragons fluttering around, "fine, we're going to get killed then!" she shouted at him in anger, "This is not exactly how I wanted to go out...what will my mother say?" her voice trailed off.

"Do you think they'll follow," Todd questioned towards Omri whom was making his way up to them.

"No doubt, the cyclopes promised us many a things," Omri responded with a resigned calmness to the situation.

"And now that I have convinced you of their deception?"

"Perhaps it is prudent that I leave your company immediately...but I have promised much for your safety and I do not intend to back out now."

"You know, I'm really starting to like it here," Todd smiled and shot his hands up in the air as visibility began to dwindle, "let's stay close," he paused in his tracks and looked upward toward the alleged opening top, "ah, I think we found it..."

A creature of an unfathomable proportion stood in front of them from the upper chest to the head with the ground they walked upon blocking off any view of the beasts bottom which judging from proportion trailed all the way down to the bottom of the hole and then some; Campe, the dragon existed in all facets of this reality and she remained present in any direction one was to face but only upon this plain of ground could her visibility be reached and an attack upon her placed. She was fearsome in her red eyes with a head that stretched out into a long snout that would take more than twenty of the giants kinds to hold to the ground. The sharp dagger like hands reached above the edge that she lived upon and scrapped the hard floor into little marks of dirt that quickly picked up in the wind of her large breath which additionally shot out the bellows of smoke that became dominate. Todd stepped forward and eyed her up carefully taking steps ever so closer to her to the surprise of Deyna and Omri whom upon encountering this majestic creature decided it best to steady themselves and move backwards toward the invading force of giants and cyclopes who lead them.

"She won't hurt us," Deyna said quietly as she stepped forward to meet with Todd.

He looked back at her with some surprise, "No, I guess she knows of me well enough to stay away," they looked on as the beast shook its head with surprising force but did not make any movements towards them despite their relatively short distance to them.

"Yeah," Deyna responded as she looked away at the cracking ground.

"Then it is true, you will bring us to our freedom. The cyclopes' were not wrong in their prophesies."

Todd let out a sigh, "no, they were very wrong about that Omri...and for that I am very sorry," he turned to face the giant whom had saved them earlier, "the cave said that the dragons will not harm the ones that have been chosen, which I guess means me," he wave his hand back to himself, "it was some sort of safety mechanism in case the titans had ever found themselves trapped in here."

"What does this mean then?"

"The cyclopes tapped into this knowledge through an oracle in the real world and they've been waiting for one of the chosen to arrive so that they may use their blood to force an escape...I can't let them get out of here...the world has changed and they'll seek nothing but the end of it."

"But what of me and my brothers? Why are we not able to come out with you?"

"There is no you," Todd commented solemnly, "you all are remnants of a past people."

"You don't exist out there," Deyna stepped forward and moved past Todd, "You and your brothers have not touched the earth in many years past. The cyclopes have known this for some time and have been using this for their advantage for some time. This is not Tartarus...this is a prison created for them by the gods and what they have deemed to be imprisoned should stay imprisoned."

"You must keep them here," Todd nodded in compliance. He looked upon his latest friend and recognizes the sadness that had approached him as his body appeared to become frail despite its outright muscular physique. He stepped towards him and placed a hand on his forearm in a sympathetic gesture, "you'll never be able leave here and continue a life back in the world," Todd continued, "but neither will they if you will it to be so...this much the writing was clear on."

"Very well," Omri shook off his current disposition and repositioned himself shaking his shoulder sockets into shape, "I am of giant kind; I shall do my finest to keep them here."

"Thank you, Omri; if there is any way I can save you after I get out of here I will make it so, mark me too this," Todd turned with Deyna and the hurried around the beast Campe whom continued to gaze towards the distant giants and into the red hole behind it out of sight for the poor giant to recognize.

* * *

Todd snapped out of his trance just as he heard the screaming of angry woman; his and Deyna's vision of the real world came to focus as it watched the oracle Sezekial turn from the pasty skin of an amazonian blessed child to that of the grey stone which began to bubble and foam before crumbling to the floor as dust. Todd clasped his hands to his head and attempted to analyze what had just occurred in front of him in light of the events that had just taken place. With shallow breaths he pulled his hands down and leaned over the blue circle of fire to touch the oracle's cloak and found there to be nothing there but the dust and ashes left by the breaking of her body. He fell back and nearly came to laying down on the floor, "let's not do this again anytime soon."

Deyna too took a deep breath before standing up and making her way outdoors, Todd watched intently as she slowly walked away before then moved himself to follow up on her, "what will you tell the amazons about Sezekial?" Deyna turned to him from the pathway she was walking along.

"I don't know, I don't really understand what she wanted...it gets really lonely on this island sometimes," she looked up at the sky and examined the birds perching on the trees above the cliff tops, "she was probably just looking for someone to understand her but looked into the wrong places," she looked back at Todd and found him to be in his full Nightwing attire once more but still with the cowl down, "what about Omri and the other giants? They really didn't exist?"

"Well, I'd like to think that they did, in some out of bounds dimension that we just don't quite comprehend yet, It was a mental prison created by some gods to keep some evil away from the rest of the world...it's unfortunate that we may have to lump in all those gentle giants as part of that category."

"What could possibly be the reason? I saw no cold-blooded intent in their eyes, all they wanted was their freedom!"

"Fear," Todd responded shortly as he drew closer to her down the pathway from the single roomed structure, "the giants didn't need the gods like your people do, what power do they have upon this world with the frail mortals to believe in them?"

"I am not of the mortal kind, and my sisters are the last of their true believers; I say that the gods may have been better off if the giants were to dominate this world over the others...man has brought great pain to this mother."

"And still you desire to venture into it?" Deyna fell back from her position and looked to the ground away from Todd, "come on, I'll give you a lift to wherever, my gear checks out nicely," she smiled away as she jumped over to Todd whom immediately raised her into his arms.

* * *

"Looks like there is a collective gaining around the halls of honour," Deyna point down below to the large rectangular structure with an angular roof and classical pillars that held it upright situated all around the building. A short set of white steps were immediately to the front entrance heading downward towards a beautifully etched ground scheme of precious gems that created a courtyard like atmosphere with bristling plant life throughout zoned off sections connecting to small structures that appeared like greenhouses. Outside the primary building stood to amazonian guards at the bottom of the stairs, one sitting down, and talking to one another. Nightwing let his rocket boots slowdown in intensity as he and Deyna gently glided down, his arms under hers.

Upon landing Nightwing was immediately greeted by the two guards as well as the surrounding Amazons in their daily garbs reaching towards thinking to fend him off of one of their own. He stared down the helmets of the guards recognizing their eyes of intensified hate blistering through his cowl Their armour shone of bronze and covered near every square inch of their body wrapped tightly with leather strands. Sharp golden spears were being raised as Deyna stepped up for her new friend waving her hands outward, "do not harm him, he's a friend...he's a good person," Nightwing nodded, waved and smiled hoping to achieve a good standing; however this proved to be insatiable as the two guards prepared themselves further biting down hard and flexing their muscles.

"Nothing good has come from the allowance of outsiders, our history is too scarred Deyna," one spoke in an evident evil that threw Nightwing off balance, "this is our home and family, his presence disrupts our peace."

"If I could be so bold as to explain myself," Nightwing started up cheekily but was quickly hit on the back of his head by a heavy hand. He looked up to see Deyna standing up to attention, chin raised and hands to her sides flat as a board.

"You may stand down," a voice raised from a depth behind him.

"That sounds familiar," Nightwing commented to himself keeping his back lowered and hands to his chest.

"Daughter, what were you doing with this boy?"

"He found his way here, I was only trying to help him find Cassie whom he followed her, mother," Deyna responded with quick breaths and short syllables.

"Mom?" Nightwing questioned to himself once more.

"He means no harm," Deyna continued, "he actually came to my rescue and has proven himself to me as a capable warrior."

"That maybe the case," the commanding voice continued, "but my history with him has shown him to be greater threat to everyone he has come into contact with."

"OK Artemis, that's not fair," Nightwing turned around to face the towering general, her slick long pure red hair gracefully tide up in gold chains only allowing for a tail to circle atop her green shoulder armour which held a dark blue cloak tightly wound around the entirety of her body, "I didn't know I was coming here, Cassie sounded like she needed some help and I felt it was only right that I help in any way that I could," he then turned to Deyna, "are you sure that this is your mom?" Deyna nodded solemnly.

"It is only thoughtful general," the guard reappeared in voice, "we cannot continue to make exception for outsiders whom share a past with any one member."

"He is not an outsider I assure you of such," Artemis spoke in a much softer voice as she clutched Nightwing shoulder gaining his absolute attention.

"You may stand down," a second commanding voice came from above the steps underneath the building top. Todd turned to look up and watched as tall figure with flowing black hair and soft facial features stepped down towards them. She sported a long purple cape that matched the lighter tones of her full body tunic and she held tightly to a golden sceptre which carried a bulb that produced for sharp points.

"The queen," the guard stated as she stepped back behind Todd and Deyna.

"Todd, my grandson, I thought I had made it clear with Diana that you are not to come here," Todd gulped as he saw Cassie making an appearance at the top of steps and holding to a grudging passion in her eyes as she followed the queen down. Todd clasped the edge of his cowl and pulled down revealing his similar features to the horror of the nearby amazons, "what purpose could bring you in defiance of my instruction?" she said softly as she came to the ground, "though I am quite happy be seeing you once more," Deyna stepped aside allowing for Todd to face down his adoptive grandmother.

"I was told Cassie was in trouble and I followed her here, I had no intention of finding myself here and for that I apologize," he continued with his cheeky tone.

"Your presence is granted for this day," she said with a smile that fell down into a frown, "for we are indeed troubled."

"What's the problem," he watched as the queen returned up the steps, "Cassie?" he looked up at his caretaker whom could not return the kindness of his gesture to help.

"There appears to be a discriminatory artist on this island, though it could not be of any amazon hand, it is a language that any of us seldom recognize save for few statements of children and gods...we were most certain this would be of interest to Cassie if it be warning to her."

"But I'm clueless of it," Cassie spoke up becoming more soft in her reflection.

Todd pondered the thoughts soaring through his head, "are they in a shiny red, almost glowing?"

"Yes, it's all over the statues and walls."

Todd immediately bolted past his two relatives up the steps and into the structure where he was immediately greeted with the various statues and trophies covered in the red lettering that he had come to recognize and understand while in the mental prison of Tartarus. Still lit by the sun light, Todd examined the statues of famous Amazonian soldiers and battles as well as the accompanying bases where the lettering had taken its strongest impact, "Todd, you understand this?"

"Yes," Todd looked across at Cassie but returned his gaze upon the lettering quickly, "I don't know how, it just kind of pops in my head when I look at it, 'the chosen sons and daughters of gods, our seeds in this world, we will return to them through the darkness, save this world from harm,'" a moment of silence passed, "well more or less, I think it has something to do with me, but it doesn't make much sense to me," he looked across at the queen and Cassie, "I think this is a warning... something's coming...something big."

"For you though?" Cassie questioned, "but you were never supposed to be here."

"Well I don't know, I am here now right?"

Some distance away Deyna stood with her mother but her point of interest was in the writing and the content therein unfolding. She appeared to ignore all prodding, "what's wrong?" Artemis questioned her as she leaned down to take a look at her daughter's pale stricken face.

"I didn't bring this up...I didn't know what to think of it," she spoke with haste and breaths that overtook every syllable.

"Slow down, what's wrong?" Artemis pleaded returning to a more commanding voice.

Deyna looked up at her mother reaching eye to eye, "I think this is a warning to me..."

"What do you mean?" Artemis voice clenched up.

"I understand the writing also."

* * *

"Quite the smart boy you selected, your little seed," the baby faced Attorney spoke with a bit of joy as he sat down at the end of a long oak table, "perhaps maybe too smart, what if he says no?"

"That outcome is unacceptable," a booming voice emitted from the opposing end of the uninteresting room that was shrouded in darkness, "he will be willing when I show him the outcome of denial."

"I'm not too certain," the Attorney replied, "Do you not have other options on this earth?"

"Your services are no longer required," the voice returned abruptly, "you may go about your business back in your own dimension."

"Very well," the man nodded in its direction as he raised himself back up from the table and carried his palms to the side of his body, "as par course, my business is always available to your needs."


	9. Interval 3

Interval #3  
Volume 1. Story 2.  
Cold Logic

_Chronology:  
__Pre-Young Justice #1_

* * *

"The unexpected weather continues this week with local authorities seeking federal help in alleviating the stress that the twin cities have endured," the newscaster spoke with a positive attitude echoed throughout the homes and buildings of both Central City and Keystone City where the dividing peaceful river had become a frozen sheet of ice with heavy coverage of snow falling upon it. The vanilla white explosion covered every building top but as opposed to its natural smooth and fluffy texture, the snow had become hard chunks of ice that turned the smooth glass surfaces of the skyscrapers into bumpy ridges that portrayed the appearance of its shattering but somehow forever stuck in the moment before the shards could break from their holdings.

"Thanks for helping me out here," the Flash blistered down the empty cold streets of Keystone city admiring the emptiness of all the buildings and abandoned vehicles but regretted that the weather be the one to drive them away. She stuck the full scarlet flash but with the slight modification of a full cowl like her father's protecting her head from the cold, her jacket for was tightly bound with the belt strained to the tightest notch, "I know you haven't had much time to settle in...I had no idea that this would be such an issue, the government should be sending some dispatches soon to evacuate the city till this is all over."

"I do as I'm instructed," Jace responded with earnest clad out in his acquired uniform from his previous adventure and holding pace with his mentor, "mind you I'm having difficulty keeping up; how are you able to maintain your energy in this cold?" he shouted out.

"It's quite simple once you understand your capabilities completely," Flash responded as the trail behind her turned to dirty mush, "you have to channel your molecules at the proper frequency keeping yourself solid but unaffected by resistance."

Jace came to a stop in the centre of the street letting the wind from his speed catch up to him. He immediately clawed his hands to his upper arms feeling the cold and seeing his breath make smoke patterns in the air. The Flash came to a quick stop and quickly made her way back to him, "how is this feat accomplished?" Jace questioned her, "I've nearly exploded objects I've passed through, I have no desire for my body to undergo the same process," Jace watched as The Flash approached him while growing in reverberating intensity and shaking uncontrollably as she got closer.

"I'll help you get started," The Flash stated as she extended her arm out and was close to placing it firmly on Jace's shoulder, "but if you have difficulty controlling the process you better stop immediately with no hesitation; you have a better chance surviving the cold than dissipating into the Speed Force," Jace closed his eyes tightly as he imagined himself in constant movement with the feeling and sounds of The Flash's hand passing through his shoulder and down his chest. Jace felt an unbelievable strength of calmness come over him as the surrounding weather, the wind and falling moisture, seemingly passed through him as though he was not there. Pulling himself out of his visionary state, he pulled up his hands and watched as they seemingly fluttered around across his spectrum as through there were five of them. The Flash had a smile upon her face as she appeared to him as being solid, "you got a hold of it."

"I think so," Jace commented unable to leave the concentration of his hands, "I'm not falling through the ground."

"I find it better to concentrate on other forms of movement, the particles of your body will start taking care of themselves so long as you're conscious and breathing efficiently; if that ceases to be you probably will be sailing through the earth."

"Can't have that, must survive," Jace commented as he placed his hand down, "what's needed of us out here?"

"There are plenty of people that are deciding to stay or are having difficulty getting out," The Flash responded as she started up and turned to continue down the road leaving into the central avenue of the people, "let's see if we can't be any help. Keep open mic on and follow me, my path should break the ice."

"People...?" Jace muttered to himself as he too picked up his feet and followed into the running motions.

The two speedsters darted off down through the iced over concrete jungle and frost bitten sewer holes seeking out what trouble may be commencing all around them whether it be the looting of abandoned homes and businesses or the remaining people becoming frozen popsicles on their front lawns waiting for commissioned vehicles to lift them out of the city. Within the first minute of their examination, The Flash had spotted an unfortunate situation unfolding, "Jace, we need to get those people out of that room," she looked back at her comrade and pointed ahead at the the two story office building with the glass walling seemingly cracking with the frozen moisture; much of the stone and steel beaming had seemingly given into the cold was quickly crumbling under the intense pressure of the heavy weighted snow and ice above. The people therein where huddled near the long oak table, "The roofing's already collapsed, and I don't think the second floor is going to take for it. The Flash paused in front of the building and looked around in all direction encountering the white wafers falling upon the ground before recognizing further in the distance the full metal hummer like vehicles floating above the surface wading through the freezer burned buildings, "they'll be here soon, let's get them somewhere safe."

Jace stood a few metres away as he watched his heroic mentor run at an incredible speed into the glass walls vibrating her molecules further causing the already brittle glass to hammer down into small pieces that blew out into the cold wind outdoors, "pay attention, I'm here to help, a convoy will be here soon but you need to get out of this building fast," a half dozen people sat silently on the floor looking up at the Flash while holding tightly to their jackets and keeping their legs there within. The Flash looked up at the ceiling as she began to see the moisture peeking through the soft panels; sound crept in as the sound of upper pipes were beginning to burst under pressure, "quickly, come with me," The Flash commanded loudly.

"We can't go out there," a saddened man with many wrinkles stated as he attempted to get up off the floor, "we'll freeze to death...they said they'd be here soon."

"Are there others in the building?" The Flash asked when the man had fully risen.

"There may be a few others that did not make it down here with us," his deep voice crusted and coughed into a light whisper.

"Come with me, I'll keep you protected from the cold...the convoy will be here shortly," The Flash hoisted up two of the more rounded infirm beings as the others quickly followed suit taking to a standing position while buttoning or zipping up their coats to the fullest extent. They followed The Flash towards the door blocking the cold wind with the rims of their jackets and hands all while keeping their eyes tightly shut and foreheads wrinkled. The Flash appeared outdoors ahead of them violently shaking further as they clambered out of the hole in the window she had smashed through. Jace watched her intently as a bubble seemed to form out of her constant movement refracting all the wind around the area in the circle that she ran. His vision shifted away at that moment as he heard the snow and ice finally taking a plunge through the second floor of the building and aiming downwards towards the floor, in quick tones he heard her, "save her Jace, move!" time slowed as it did for all speedsters as he watched without movement as a younger woman attempted to make it towards the cracked window and into the pocket that The Flash was still forming, "Jace, get her!" she continued to plead. Jace watched the movements of the Flash as they slowed down in his perspective creating the optical illusion of her being in all places at once with the trail of light in her wake all while dwindling the movements of the normal humans to that of slowest of animals. The Flash's jaw dropped and close producing her pleas but he refused to move watching intently as the debris of piping and roofing made the decent to the earth waiting firstly though to crush the young lady's head. With blistering speed, The Flash dove back into the room and grabbed the woman pulling her free from the debris which finally crashed down smashing the oak table into jagged wooden pieces which became buried under the snow.

The outdoor survivors were once again in the cold and feeling the ultimate effects of this other worldly storm as The Flash was forced to recreate her cocoon for them till the proper authorities could arrive to alleviate their suffering. Jace watched on analyzing every step she made while closely examining the slow movements of the humans' faces as they tuckered themselves dry in finding warmth among all that had happened to them.

* * *

"Did you freeze up?...why didn't you move to save her?" The Flash pulled down her full headed cowl revealing her long flowing red hair which she exemplified with a shake, "she could have been killed, worse yet, all those people could have frozen to death."

Jai appeared in the entrance way to the West home and was unamused by the puddles of water that had formed around Iris and Jace as they shook down their costumes staining the smooth wood panels of the floor, "I have the thermostat near max, the cold reflectors are at full strength and the generators are already operational...hot tub rooms broke," he muttered quietly before returning to an upper voice, "but if this continues we might have to play things out from the basement," Iris looked up briefly and nodded in affirmation to her brother's conclusions.

"I'm not sure if we had the right to interfere..." Jace commented as he took down his cowl and unstrapped his gloves as he shook his body down back into its solid state.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Iris barked back at him with contempt, "lives are at danger, we are to prevent that danger from persisting..."

"No we don't," Jace remained calm and looked up at the two siblings whom had taken him in, "death is a natural occurrence, you've only managed to stall an inevitable consequence of their current existence."

"That kind of talk has never been sufficient to justify the ignorance of our responsibilities," Iris responded as she took off her jacket and pulled a chair from the wall and sat upon it. Jace continued to stand as he shook his uniform so he could stand in a more comfortable position.

"Weather is a natural condition of this planet, it is an order...I've learnt recently that any tampering in it the slightest often produces the greatest of consequences," he breathed deeply, "consequences that we cannot overcome even if we have accomplished this desirable ability to conquer it."

"The world has been running on that notion ever since the United States got started," Jai knocked in, "they're still people in need of help, if we can't be allowed to conquer it than at the very least we can help overcome the consequences of it happening."

"But why?" Jace questioned sharply, "if a natural event causes death, and for the most part this storm has, then why must we enable ourselves to intervene; I thought we were trying to prevent ourselves most of all from becoming these masters of the universe that your foes are so inclined to make themselves."

"We do not act in deception as they would, if ever we crossed a line they're will be others watching," Iris responded from her relaxed position, "how would you take to it if you were allowed to be killed by that collapsing floor because someone with the capabilities to prevent it left you stranded?"

"I wouldn't be harmed, nor stranded."

"How do you figure?" Iris leaned forward on her chair eyes wide open.

"I have abilities that separate me from this humanity," Jace responded looking away from them and towards the living room where the long green couches sat frazzled, "I, along with yourselves, we conquered the natural human condition to become much more beyond whatever natural weather event could cause; we will survive where others will perish..."

Jai clasped his coiled fist to his mouth gesturing a moment of thought while Iris fell back in her seat with uncertainty in her eyes, "what exactly led you to this conclusion?" Iris beckoned with sympathy.

"No," Jace through his hands across one another, "don't worry about that; maybe there is something unnatural about this weather. I'll set about some research, you two do what you think is needed," Jace headed towards the kitchen, "isn't unusual for this weather to be so central to this part of the country?" Jace passed through the entrance disappearing from the view of Iris and Jai.

"I've never known any member the Allen family to have taken that kind of stance," Iris leaned forward on her chair placing her elbows on her knees and using her hands to support her chin, "I've only ever heard, or as Dad always told us, this is the thing of the Zooms and Thawnes...never us..." he looked up to Jai with a sympathetic look that was beginning to fall upon moisture ridden.

"I'm not sure what to think about this really; maybe he's right," Iris's jaw dropped as her eye brows bounced, "I don't want to think he is...from what we can tell he's been through the other side and has seen what happens when it's been pushed; we never thought the treadmill would be returned, that was just too much power for one person, especially a person of his age, to be using...but he saw it to the end of it and from Max said, he proved himself to be quite capable with a lot of potential."

"Perhaps too much potential," she crossed her hands and bowed her head down, "we need to be pointing him in a direction that we can manage...in this current state of mind I fear he may be greater an adversary than an ally; especially since he knows so much about us...I have to stay more powerful than him!" she looked up at Jai and clenched her fists at her sides.

"OK," Jai nodded his head uncertain of Iris's state of mind, "I'll go talk to him; maybe we can build up an understanding that will make things run more smoothly."

* * *

Jace placed his hands against the far wall of the kitchen feeling its smooth tan coloured wall paper as he push up against it ever so slightly till he heard a rattle occur somewhere behind it. He took a look around the kitchen, the nearby counter, the hanging pots and pans connected by metal chains to the ceiling, the long wooden table further away beyond the small adjacent wall that held the stove top, and the window above the table which was fogging over and reaching unimaginable heights of compacted snow which seemed to glow in the reflection of the lights in the kitchen. He stood there for a few moments longer analyzing the outdoors unable to see the same lights existing in the other homes that looked just as pleasant as this house; the West's house. He let out a deep sigh and pulled his hand back allowing for the steel door within the wall to slide to his left towards the stove.

Ahead of him now were stairs that led down into the darkness; however upon taking his first step down he watched as the full width of the steps began to light up brightly all the way down revealing its length of nearly thirty single steps. Jace took every step at a normal human pace which allowed him to think through himself carefully, not of the steps ahead, but of the ideas that infected his head and to what logically conclusions those ideas would reach. At the bottom he took in a deep breath and watched the above light panels light up furiously upon his toes reaching the basement floor. He was in the West's home lab where the two siblings, like their mechanic father before them, would set themselves to work on finding and analyzing the Speed Force in the natural world and develop extraordinary machines and potential weapons which entail and work upon their discoveries; however, with this understood, the basement lab had become most useful in the multitude of activities that have befallen the new age of heroics: cameras, satellite tracking, community connection, villain profiling and various other listed statistics that presented for the uncorrupted heroes and heroines the opportunity to overcome their worst fears.

The room was long and wide, extending all the way to the back and fronts of the house; a true basement though quite a ways down further than what the house sitting above would dictate. Along the wall to the left were flat rectangular screens built into the walls standing above the white topped desk that straddled along that facing wall as well as along the two adjacent walls possessing upon them various mechanical items of strange origins and configurations. The ceiling was littered with large blue steel pipes that ran in all direction connected to half a dozen circular balls with little open sockets where a camera light could be witnessed. The much larger constructs, such as the larger metal wheel and half-constructed treadmill, sat at the very back where the space was much more open for to the wall closest to Jace were the computer system: a large single screen and desk panel that gave one control over what was to appear upon that main screen. It was white, it was clean, but it had been worn well and always in operating condition.

Jace pulled the five prong swivel chair out from under the wide encompassing computer desk and while keeping his eyes upon the white large screen, he pulled himself inward placing his hands on the built in command panel. He had grown quite attached to his acquired costume, despite its origins, feeling it flex around his body as he contorted to fit within the chair. He stretched out his fingers adapting to their current glove-less state and pressed on hard on the desk panel which immediately caused the main screen to flicker black and open up into the mainframe of the inner computer system. There he sat motion less, save for his eyes which darted to and fro analyzing the images that appeared upon the screen whether they be of the twin cities of Keystone and Central from space or from the live camera of a news station checking out the traffic and conditions on achieving a gate way out of them.

"Jace," Jai stepped down the last five steps, "you find much of what you were looking for?"

"Possibly," Jace responded taking a quick glance at Jai then back at the screen, "the primary civil concern is upon the emptying of hospitals and care homes; thankfully though, weather stations are still doing their job," he extended the index finger of his right and pressed down on the keypad then pushed himself away from the screen. Jai came and stood up beside him looking at the screen also, "one meteorologist did a complete temperature scan of the twin cities, as is shown, there are four specific large regions which are much colder in intensity than all the surrounding areas and what's more is that intensity is duplicated in smaller bulbs throughout the city," Upon the screen the two cities stood on opposite sides of a frozen Mississippi river which cut diagonally across. While the majority of the frame was white, there were four large blue circles that dominated the laid out map, one close to the river on the Central City side, another far out in the corner of Keystone and the other two closer to the centre of their respective cities. Little blue dots shined throughout the map at irregular intervals.

"looks like Christmas lights kind of," Jai looked down at Jace but didn't get a reaction, "you know, but four months too early..." he cleared his throat, "so what does it all mean?"

"I'm not certain," Jace pulled up his fingers to the front of his face and placed the tips of his fingers together, "the meteorologist is waving this off as a common occurrence."

"But you're seeing otherwise?" Jai questioned his friend while continuing to gaze at the screen.

"No," Jace forehead wrinkled as he dropped his hands and turned on the chair to face Jai, "this is completely normal," he then immediately turned back to the screen, "I'm just thinking..."

"You're looking for some rational reason for helping people."

"I suppose I am," Jace began fiddling around with the command screen while his gaze concentrated once more upon the flashing figures and pictures and zoomed on the main screen.

"Have you come across the thought that perhaps there is no rational reason? Maybe you ought to just do it because it feels right...you do feel it's right?"

"A feeling is unique to one person's being," Jace leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk and supported up his chin, "just because I feel things 'ought' to be doesn't mean I that is or that I have the right to make it that way."

"Jace what happened between you and Max Mercury?" Jai said solemnly while standing firm hoping to gain Jace's attention, "you can be honest with me, Max was certain your potential but I think he was holding back on something that even he was afraid to discuss."

Jace kept his head up towards the screen but looked down to the side opposing Jai, "I got to emotional," he turned to Jai and eyed him down, "Mercury is afraid of what I was to become if I was left alone in my time...it's the reason why I'm here; I didn't grow up in a virtual world where life could be restarted with a button nor did I grow up with mutated abilities that excelled my growth, I grew up normal like any other being but then..." his head turned to the command panel and nodded from side to side, "then I lost someone I loved, the only person in my life that mattered, but it was from that I was given the capabilities to prevent that death from happening..." he looked up at Jai once more, "I thought that was the purpose, the reason, for why I was given this ability but I was never satisfied, I could never achieve that 'state of happiness' I thought I justly deserved."

"Why this then? You can still save lives, doesn't that make you happy?"

"I've met myself," Jace placed his hands on the command console and refocused his gaze on the screen, "my future self; he was everything my predecessors weren't. There was nothing heroic about him, all he wanted was to change the natural order of things but every time he did...everything I tried...it just kept getting worse till he finally snapped and allowed himself to self-destruct...anything to be free of the prison he had made of himself."

"But you stopped that?"

"Yes, I did but I'm just one version of myself that did...the one that broke away from the endless pattern, the one interval in time that managed to break the mould which would have ended with the death of all our forefathers and whatever future generations they may have had: the end of a legacy."

"But that was such a rare occurrence; we're in this business where we save people regardless of the circumstances that any rules of nature unfold upon us. It's not like we're rewriting the natural order to prevent these natural occurrences from happening."

"But we are," Jace looked up at Jai once more, "the technology to manipulate weather is ever more present to us, a past enemy of your father's, the weather wizard, he could change the warm and cold fronts to achieve whatever weather outcome he desired; he rewrote the rules and your father made him suffer for it...now we rewrite the rules to allow ourselves to prevent the normal people from perishing from whatever nature sends towards them."

"But we're not them, there's no deception. We're the heroes. Doesn't it feel right?"

"Does it feel right? Yes," Jace said so sternly, "but if I decide to accept this one bend in the rule, that it's OK to rewrite the rules as a hero, someone whom would otherwise uphold the law, then the reasons of Mercury's fear would ring true and that potential to be a great hero would be turned towards being the greatest of adversaries...I will have become this warped versions of myself where my 'feelings' make what ought to be a reality."

A brief moment of silence passed all the time of which Jai looked down at his feet feeling unable to reach an effective point of argument for his personal beliefs, "So, have you found enough to convince you to investigate any further into this unusual weather?"

"I believe I have, I should present my findings to Iris and we can move out from there."

"I'll have to call her back in."

"She back out already?" Jace relaxed in his chair as Jai headed towards the steps.

"She's gotten quite bit of calls from her contacts throughout the city; everyone is in a bit of a panic."

"Alright," Jace stared blankly at the screen.

* * *

"What have you got for me?"

"I've been researching the weather patterns in this region and I've been drawing a string of theories and conclusions you might find interesting."

Iris, still garbed in her Flash uniform with the cowl pulled down, place her inward arm around the top of the large chair Jace sat in and leaned forward looking at the screen, "you mean you've been looking to justify the acts of a good hero?"

"If that be the way you understand it best, then yes," Jace responded coldly as he pulled up the temperature scan of the twin cities for Iris to take a look at, "its evolved since Jai and I looked at it a half hour back," Jai nodded from the corner of the room and became shocked as he stepped forward to take a better look at the evolved image, "as can be plainly seen now, there are still four central hubs where the cold is most intense, but it's the smaller notations of cold...they've formed some kind of grid that runs throughout both cities."

Iris eyed the screen up and down, "something's causing this weather to occur?"

"It would seem most likely...but it could have been just a strange coincidence."

"Could have?" Iris tilted her head in puzzlement as she looked down at Jace.

"This is the temperate division of the ground; I've placed a second map of the city itself on top of this image," his hand moved through the control panel while the main screen showed the transition of a satellite image of the city being transposed on top of the image of the temperature outline, "of course someone whose just doing a temperature division would not have noticed this..."

"They're all in buildings..." Iris said softly analyzing the new image.

"It's a possibility that these are not just regions where the weather is most severe but perhaps maybe they are the source for this weather like situation," Jace rolled himself back as Iris became independent of her lean, he looked up at her, "do you know of the operational status of the rogues, I was considering the idea with Jai that the technology of the Weather Wizard could be amplified to create this kind of weather."

"They're infrequent in their actions," Iris continued to analyze the screen, "the originals' successors aren't as organized as they could be...still, I suppose it is possible."

"I suggest we check out these major hubs...if this is nothing but a strange coincidence then we can leave it be but-"

"Jace," Iris interrupted him. She looked down at him locking eyes, "we'll check this out for anything, under the assumption that there is something more human behind this; if you see anyone in need of help you better well help them...is that understood?"

Jace let out a large breath, "I understand."

"After this is all over, we'll set ourselves to cleaning up this mess."

"I'll connect my mobile to yours; the map should come up clean."

"Keep the comm open also, Jai," Iris turned to her brother, "keep watching from here and let us know if anything changes."

"Ey," Jai responded quickly with a nod.

* * *

Jace pounded the cement roads once more trailblazing the ground causing the ice the thaw a bit and turn to mush. Keeping his head faced forward towards his objective, he ignored all things around him till it became apparent that such things stood in his pathway but even then he would vibrate the small intricate parts that made him whole just enough so that he passed through them with ease, "I'm near the inner city point of Keystone...there's nothing noticeable where the dots are," he called into the little microphone that ran down his cheek, "natural phenomena is more likely from this assessment."

"Check out the point first, I'm nearing the river," a static laced voice of his mentor came through into his ear.

Jace neared the corner at the end of the long narrow street; his desired objective being apparently within or above the structure there. He came to a halt at the edge of the empty soulless sidewalk and turned to look up at the three story square structure that operated both as home and convenience store. The metal bands that decked the large windows of the store did little to block out the cold; they were frost ridden and beginning to crack. Jace felt them down but found his consistent movement preventing him from whatever effects the temperature would have upon him. He vibrated his hands quicker and followed through with the rest of his body causing the metal at hand to wilt and fall apart further as the quick acceleration of speedster pushed him within the stone building.

Now within, Jace was present to the lawlessness of basic building requirements; the square home had become an iced hole with the walls heading upward covered in ice and a man sized hole seemingly etched in perfectly in the ceiling, "must be human," Jace muttered with a whisper. He slowed down his speedy movements to the normal pace of his human counter parts and proceeded to feel the wall with this glove hands noting its smoothness and drips of moisture that followed his hand as he slid across it, "something's not right here...Flash?" he called out.

"I've lost contact with her," Jai responded from the comfort of their basement floor, "some electronic interference I've been trying to compensate for...last I heard she was fine...what have you found there."

"It's warm here," Jace threw out his arms and absorbed the change in temperature.

"Warm?"

"Yeah, almost like the cold ceases to be...and there's a well-designed hole in the roof...I have to admit that the evidence would produce the conclusion that some human hands are up to work. Has anything on the map changed, perhaps the high temperature points have turned to heat?"

"No, still good and cold,"

Jace circled the hole looking up at it and noting the increasing circular cloud formations as they dipped through the greys, blacks and whites of the shade spectrum, "must be something in here...these points may still be sources...we just got to figure out how and hopefully be able to reverse the process." Jace continued to circle but aimed his vision down at the area immediately below the hole, "I bet you there's a reason for why the hole exists above."

The young speedsters stopped and looked across to the opposite side of the room but felt his vision to be increasingly blurred as his staring continued, "something's reflecting it from view," he raised his hand and held it for a moment, with a deep breath he pressed it forward and immediately came into contact with a pillar of sorts. He watched with a surprising interest as a thin black strand of energy immediately flowed from around his hand and revealed the pillar he had come into contact with. With the cloaking shield down, he was able to ascertain what he was looking at. The metal pillar that reached just two feet short of the hole in the ceiling was a careful design of foot sized metal bands that curved all together all the way up however in much closer coils at the top where the last piece produced a glowing yellow wand that was lighting up with electricity, "this technology is quite familiar to the Flash records."

"What do you see?" Jai questioned.

"It's a cylinder pillar of sorts, but at the top there appears to be weather wand, the same kind used by weather wizard...could he be behind this?"

"Doubt it; never attempted anything on this scale and we haven't heard much from him, we've mostly encountered poor kids whom have collected his old belongings and used them to their own purposes."

"I think there's something more...I'm hearing a small hum coming from inside," Jace placed his hand and leaned in closely on the metal circles and travelled all around it once more coming to a stop on the opposite end where he felt his hand dip into a small depth square sheet that appeared to be bolted into the side. Vibrating his hands through it he pulled back and felt the metal break free of the bolts and fly over his shoulder, "that's interesting."

"What have you got now?"

"It's another smaller pipe pillar that runs all the way up to the wand, its a dark blue...looks like a bit of Captain Cold's later designs."

"You sure know a lot about the rogues."

"I spent all of yesterday researching your father's villains just in case I would come in contact with them."

"And you've put everything to your head?"

"I remember everything that enters my senses," Jace responded as he further examined the inner workings of the pillar. Jai's head fell back in his chair as his eyes glazed the screen with uncertainty to his new friend's ability, "there's something more; the inner sides of the metal bands have been built with heating conduits," he placed his hand on the inner sides and felt the gushing of hot steel even through his gloves, "they look like the same charges that Heat Wave would use to power his flame thrower...someone's been monopolizing the Rogue's technology, even the cloaking field rings Mirror Master, it must be someone who knew them well enough to get a hold of their technology and modify it."

"This would mark the first time it's been used for a larger purpose outside of basic weaponry."

"It's possible that some government operation, one that would have stockpiled all their equipment; they would have the resources to update this technology and combine it for this kind of effect."

"What would the government want with two frozen major cities?"

"Uncertain; it is a theory with lacking evidence," he moved back from the cylinder and headed back towards the wall he had phased through to get in, "we should get back in contact with The Flash, I'll head over to her last coordinates, maybe she's come across a similar device...first though I think I have to work something out here," he turned to look back at the conglomerate of Rogue weaponry.

* * *

"Jai?...Jai can you hear me?" The Flash placed her waving hand to her ear and pressed hard against the earpiece. She let out a brief moan to encapsulate the technical failure. She had come to a stop in the middle of a parking lot that faced out towards the Mississippi river which appeared to her more as a white plateau blended in slants that raised up on either side; the meagre beaches and surrounding terrain had become a rock like mountain landscapes. The buildings that surrounded its edges had not turned out much better but were more or less noticeable through the climate and snow fall that had befallen the twin cities.

With her abilities preventing the wind-chill from taking her body over, The Flash headed down the bank of the river and took a good look across the frozen landscape towards the northern bounds where she began to notice an increase in the size ice forming on top of the surface. Taking steps across the frozen river she became startled by the formation that had appeared ahead of her; the objective of her search had taken the form of an castle of ice. "Well, Jace you've gotten what you've wanted," she said to herself quietly as she pushed her self forward to take a more analyzed look at the structure. It was long and narrow taking up the majority of the centre of the long river in a straight line, it had high rising pillars of ice and spear like shards of ice shooting out from a circular atrium like arena that appeared to have formed beyond the seeming entrance way which looked like a foot deep wall of ice that was heavily blurred to the point of being solid from which even under the best of vision standards, the Flash was incapable of seeing through, "I suppose the time of subtlety is long over."

The Flash picked upped the speed on her vibrating molecules forcing them to the extremes that she could take them to and pressed forward trailblazing through the cold snow revealing the window into the river. With every pounding step, the snow covered ice melted to its window like phase which continued at a heightened state before suddenly stopping as she had gotten much closer to the distant castle where the ice became rocky and bubbly. The long yellow and red streaks made it to the wall and phased straight through it as though it were never there leaving the strange trail of thawed moisture.

Pacing around the inner entrance way, The Flash proceed to take steps towards a slanted edge that headed up towards an opening in the wall that separated this small waiting room from the larger main room with the large open circular roof structure. The walls appeared to be as solid as any normal wall blocking out any view of the world which would routinely be viewable in its blurriest through any ice surface. The Flash stepped up the slanted platform keeping her molecules well in checked but slowing down to a walking pace intent on giving herself time to react to whatever may befall her above and beyond the platform and the entrance way therein.

She stepped across the smooth surfaces till she arrived and found herself to be in what appeared to be the master chamber, ahead along a narrow pathway was a circular floor that was held up above the river surface a near story. To each strong wall was a pathway of equal size extending from the entrance way that she stood from. Down below was the ice surface of the river which appeared more pleasant with the ice having formed over strongly but in part because of the roofing, the snow was kept out from interfering with the view. A gruff sound echoed sharply and deeply through the cavernous arena.

"This is the Flash," Iris cried out looking up at the dome of ice that extended further into the distance of the cave, "to whom am I addressing."

"The Flash," A mechanical voice appeared to come from the distance, "A true legendary myth, a relic of an ancient time..." the voice continued as it grew closer and louder with a deep attitude, "I have faced him and his family too many times," Iris watched as a darkened figure in the distance along the left sidewalk drew closer, "but I suppose its tradition now, though I hardly expect I can return to my youthful vigour as this generation has evoke upon us."

"Who are you?" Iris called out as she watched the figure come a stop and produced a pistol from the side of his waist. Iris fell back to her outstretched leg and prepared to make a daring run. The pistol however aimed at the floor of the river and immediately shot down producing a curtail of ice that shot up from the surface to the height of the walkway producing a veering intersection. The figure walked upon it and continued to shoot the invisible rays ahead of himself as his walk took him closer to the circular plateau, "Your father may have deduced this, but not you, the young ones...not on your own, I suspect that you have acquired much assistance in time," the voice grew gruff and coarse.

"The Captain is operational," The Flash let go of her stance and proceeded to take to a standard upright position. Ahead of her stood a tall man of large physique wearing a thick blue parka that extended throughout ever limb of his body and completed in a large hood with white fur dominating the outward edge. Tightly around his waist was a white belt with two holsters on either side of his which contained two purple tinted pistols. His hands, which he held near his stomach, were possessed by some form of metal ally that worked to every edge of intricate detail as to where his boots which reached upward just below his knees, though tinted blue and possess the furry white trim around. His mask was of a similar nature possessing a thin separate eye slits and mouth which betrayed very little emotion, "Leonard Snart, you've been away for some time...your 'successors' have yet to live up to your name though..." she tilted his head and looked suspiciously upward, "why have you done this?" The Flash beckoned to her forefathers' arch enemy.

"This?" he questioned as he pulled up the pistol in his left holster and immediately shot the region behind him producing a large spike that nearly reached his height, he turned to it and raised his free hand and shone a red wide spread light from his palm upon it causing the icicle to melt down into a chair formation which he proceeded to sit upon, "this is a test run of sorts," the mechanical voice continued.

"A test run?" The Flash began.

"I have no proper reason other than to test the equipment in my possession, thought my secondary objective was to draw the attention of another speedster, one that I believe has come under your possession in recent times."

"Who?" The Flash manoeuvred herself closer with her teeth clenched.

"Don't do this play with me," the deep drawn out voice echoed back as the Captain placed his elbows on the edge handles of the chairs and held his hands together, "I have often admired the Flash for his enduring attitude that resulted from his intelligence no matter how dim witted he made himself appear...I suspect nothing less from his selected successor."

"What do you want with the boy?"

"He does exist," the mechanical appearing Captain leaned forward; The Flash recoiled with a bit of fright, "I was concerned that I was misinformed."

"What do you want?" The reasserted herself.

"A kind dialogue of sorts," Captain Cold fell back on his chair with relaxation. He pulled up his right arm and looked down at his metal fist which produced a small square screen on the outside, "Your presence is no longer required, I believe he has put the pieces together already...one of my devices has been tampered with," he then rose upward and looked down upon the Flash, "it's a shame that he had not come across me first, but we could do well without your interruption..." he pulled up both his pistols and proceeded to aim down at the Flash whom proceeded to jump into her speed as she ran across the left side of the ice arena to get to the pathway up to the Captain's throne.

"You'll fall..." She pounded closely to the Captain but as she approached she felt her body begin to slow down stall. The velocity of her stride slowed down to a human's jog as she was on the walkway up to the throne.

"You've forgotten of my strengths," the Captain called to her as he decided to make an approach, "you should have never feared the cold...a cold field, that would surely slow down your molecular movements," he pulled up his pistols as The Flash's eyes began to open wide slowly while her body began to slump a few short feet from reaching the Captain's face with her fist, "I am not a murderer." A shot of white energy from his pistol impacted her weakened body which pushed her sliding back along the walkway and into the wall producing a large spike of ice forming out of her body. The frost had covered her face and fogged up her goggles. She attempted to move her hands but could not feel the strength to push herself free, "You may be the legacy of my greatest enemy, but your blood will not be on my hands," he voice moaned once more as the final shot impaled her enveloping her body in a coffin of ice.

* * *

Jace stepped back out onto the road and looked around at the buildings as they stood like freezer ice in the background of the sky. He paused in his place as he felt his breaths becoming more shallow calling upon him to over exert himself in his molecular deconstruction, "Jace what's wrong? I can hear you breathing more deeply."

"It's the sky," he looked up an examined the clouds; "The snow is slowing down, like its stopping."

"So? Is it getting warmer?"

"No, colder. It never gets cold enough for it to stop snowing unless its reaching absolute zero...all things come to a stop at that point, I don't think I can make myself move fast enough to prevent me from becoming frozen."

A brief moment of silence passed, "You have to do something!" Jai screamed into Jace's ears.

"This is dangerous," his eyes positioned to normal while his body continued to fluctuate but at a much slower pace than what had been accomplished earlier with the guidance of The Flash, "I don't know if I can make it..."

"Move!" Jai pleaded.

With little time for a proper thought, Jace felt his feet move again at an acceptable speed however with ever ten paces he began to feel the entirety of the cold begin to sift through his body with the shield caused by the excessive body vibrations finally given in. He could not help but imagine now the addition of frost and cold moisture in all facets of his body weaving into the open pores caused by his movements further causing him agony as he attempted the miles long run to the river front. He raised his head and saw as the blustering winds picked up the delicate shards of ice that combined to form a blinding hailstorm, yet he pressed forward to take the task given.

The young speedster's strength became sporadic as he believed he had come into viewing distance with the river bank ahead. His thighs became restless with an awakening fear that if he continued his velocity simultaneously with his vibrations there would be no stopping his demise from falling through the earth. His breath shallow as it was already slowed to long intervals of ten seconds leaving what was left of his twisted body any strength to press onward. With the less than a few feet from exiting the asphalt roads and to the beachhead, Jace felt his body reach its peak and then collapse to its knees; his capable but no less willing than his body was; this was by no way the best way to meet an unsatisfying end.

"Making it," Jace uttered under the slow painful breaths he took, "making it, the best..." he continued to try and persuade himself verbally as he pressed the fabric of his body to speed up even quicker allowing him the grace of getting back onto the soles of his feet and back onto the path of his goal, but even then with all this will to survive he was increasingly met with the hard reality of the creeping cold which further caused his suffering. His intake grew slower as his velocity dwindled, without much time for effort to be pushed towards the ultimate form of vibration; Jace came to a resounding stop and seemingly let the air of the surrounding atmosphere take him over. Consciousness became nearly lost as his body began to turn frigid reaching towards a frozen block. With no words, no actions, Jace froze at the end of the street heading out towards the beachhead.

Within a minutes time, the ice began to crack all around his frail body, his eyes shot open through his goggles but they started up wobbling at a heightened speed to the point where it appeared they were nothing but white spheres upon his face. An explosion of glass like shards of ice suddenly burst all around him as his body, fists clenched, shot out through the wind breaking way towards the river side. His feet moved up to a pace that set them slightly under the layer of slippery ice that dominated the region he was passing. Biting down his teeth, the young man came to a slipping stop along the width of the river a short distance from the ice castle which he examined in a short second before deciding his best interests were to focus on getting within it and hoping for a suitable outcome.

With a shot of speed, Jace leaped with a his right boot extended frontward as he passed through the ice structure's walls resulting in its composition to crack and expand within a quick second leading to its immediate explosion when Jace had landed on all fours in the waiting area leading up to the entrance way into the atrium. After a moment to recuperate himself, Jace allowed for his body to slow and adapt feeling that the temperature within had become more manageable in comparison to what it was in the world outside. With the moment passing, Jace stepped up his game once more and head up the slanted edge and through the entrance way to encounter the foe whom had presented himself as the source of the strange devices that caused the killing weather.

"Your presence was desired," the deep mechanical voice echoed as Jace came to a stop and quickly glanced all around the large arena like area recognizing almost immediately with shock the frozen body of The Flash embedded in the dark blurred wall. Jace looked up at the imposing figure standing ahead of the ice throne, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped slightly allowing for a puff of grey expiration to leave, "your recognition pleases me."

"You shouldn't exist...not yet," Jace took two steps backward towards the entrance way.

"I know not of you, only what you have given me."

"What do you mean?" Jace's voice returned silently as he straightened himself.

"At one point, most recently, you became a living embodiment of the Speed Force, were you not?" the foe sat down and tapped his finger tips on the edge of his chair.

"Yes," Jace said softly as he continued to analyze the growing mysterious rival, "but what does that have to do with you? Who are you?" Jace spoke loudly with interest.

"At that moment when you became all that is...I was given a vision of the future," the mechanical voice boomed down. Jace squinted his eyes and hurried back into his thoughts, "Some time ago I was greeted with a life or death moment, to alleviate myself of answering the question I optioned for a third choice and turned my technology on myself...instant freeze in the southern glaciers...I expected my allies to come to my aid at some time but I was instead greeted with the presence of my future self, from your time. He had found a way to breach through time and awaken me."

"No...how?" Jace questioned.

"I have no knowledge of his capabilities; I am merely a mechanic of sorts and a well-rounded strategic opportunist."

"A petty criminal," Jace shot back.

"Was a petty Criminal," the Captain bashed his clenched fist on the ledges of this throne causing sparks of ice shards to disperse. He rose silently, "I am the best of my collective, the rogues..." he said with much disdain, "they are me as much as I am all them...all there power is mine to wield!" he turned slightly to look at The Flash, "this legacy has snubbed my ambitions for far too long, I do not seek to find this end anymore."

"What do you want Cold?" Jace stepped forward.

"I am no killer; I only want this feud to end before it can be allowed to reach its most logical conclusion."

"Do you know then? What you are in the future? Secret societies, world orders, the psychopaths, they all have a mainstay as your company on that fortress of yours..."

"What is one without friends or company?"

"Why all this then? You've put all these lives at risk."

"A test of sorts, my new access to technology so long and out-dated needed a good run prior to my more venturous activities...I assure you the consequence of life in this situation is unintentional as I imagine the Flash and her government enforcers have rightfully taken to assisting the inhabitants...but not you," Captain Cold sat down and held his hands together above his lap staring down through his thin eye slits, "I have been watching now and you have made no action to save anyone," he appeared to be smiling and laughing somewhat under his cold metal mask, "at first I thought this was lack of experience, but no, not for someone who has been through what you have been through."

"What do you know of me?"

"No, I suspect you had quite the reasoning for your inaction one that others previous to you have failed to comprehend," The Captain sat back down, "I was hoping that this day would draw you out to meet me."

"For combat?"

"No, I was tempted to ask you to join me..." Jace fell back again losing his balance for a moment on the slippery ice surface, "You have the potential to be the best of what your forefather's legacies could ever hope to offer and I am the best of what my allies could ever hope to have achieved but we are still of this meagre mind, this entrapment we were born with...we have not reached what we have truly desired since we picked up these costumes..." He leaned forward aiming his face down to the young speedster, "we don't need to continue this feud, now with what I have become...we can work together...leave this realm and build..."

"And what will we build," Jace regained himself and stepped towards the edge of the railing.

"Our realities..." the cold monstrosity leaned forward, "I have the technical abilities and desire but you have the imagination in your youth and yet knowledge beyond your years...you have become a rival to the Flash, my Flash, you have no reason to be only remaining in their shadow, expand your mind with my guidance and we can forge the unlikely bonds that your forefather's sought to forgo for the interest of the lesser mortals."

"It's an appealing offer," Jace spoke with earnest and interest, "but all I needed was a reason to justify my family's legacy and you've just given me the reason," at a quick tempered speed ahead of Cold's vision, Jace propelled himself backwards till he was under the arching of the entrance way then at a much quicker pace he raced forward towards the edge of the ice platform from which he jumped from allowing the inertia of his speed to push him to the circular platform which cold sat upon. Captain Cold's head rose to the sky as Jace's fists came into contact with his bounded neck, "you're a cold calculating machine! You're just trying to manipulate me!" Jace yelled as his fists ran at infinite speeds into Cold's chest as he let out moans watching the fabric of his parka begin to rip and his metal casing begin to dent. Jace suddenly stopped though as he felt something warm tapped across his arms, he raised himself up from his towering position over his forefather's arch enemy and looked at the red liquid that doused his hands and then down at the open cavity that was Cold's chest. He let out a deep breath as he saw intact a series of tubes and pieces of lungs underneath the frail skin pumping in accordance with the still well human heart all of which tinged to a cold blue colour as if the myriad of collected human parts were suffocating, "your still human...no, the captain was always a machine," he leaned back from his towering posture above the captain with a reviled look upon his visible face.

"It is regrettable that I be this way now, my human body was unable to take the pressure of the continuous absolute zero temperatures for the years it had undergone," Captain Cold spoke softly in his weakened state. Jace jumped down from the edge of the chair and continue to look down at the spattering Captain as his hand hanged lifeless on the outside of the chair, "It is likely that my future self was forced to forgo the operation that made him near full mechanical...I however did not intend to suffer such a fate as I believe he endeavoured to prevent also for himself...that I may retain some emotion, some heat," he attempted to pull his hands back up but could not gather the strength.

"Why have you presented me with this offer...?

"I did not desire to be alone...my allies, my friends, they have since left this world; I am the best because I am the one whom as survived," he coughed out with heavy breaths, "and now I lack the cultured legacy that my enemies have made to survive."

"I can put an end to this now," Jace clenched his teeth together.

"That has been the way of your family, what they've always done to me..."

"But you may still be useful to me in some capacity," Jace attained a sense of calmness as he examined the globe like roof that was extensively high and surrounded the large arena. He zoned himself on a circular hole that blended well into the dome immediately ascertaining what he was looking for, "it's much warmer in here," he looked down at Captain Cold whom raised his head slightly to view the young speedster. Jace went to the furthest back line of the circular ice platform and took to his speed to jolt upward upon the throne and above the slumping captain jumping from the very top and forward to the back where his outstretched fist came into contact with a cylinder of sorts that extended from the bottom and near to the top. He straddled around the pillar reaching to the river's hard surface while the familiar black line formed a circle around the punched imprint which began to expand revealing the tight metal coils that went upward towards the yellow glowing wand at the very top. "This is quite ingenious cold," Jace started as he circled around the pillar till he had found the bolted metal flap which he proceeded to rip apart with his speed, "had I not allowed myself the time to understand this technology at your first station then perhaps I would need to take you up on your offer for the benefit of the city."

"You've made good use of your abilities..." The Captain's voice echoed softly to Jace standing a story below the pillar of ice that kept the Captain in his chair.

"I did not chose to have these abilities," Jace began as he placed one of his hands on the blue cylindrical core of the device, "It was through the death of an elder of mine that I received them...if I am to continue his legacy I must do as he would have instructed me but I shall not fall into the same mistake that led them to their deaths!"

"Interesting boy..." the cold voice continued, "you sound very much like me."

Jace vibrated his hands rapidly inside as he closed his eyes. Within moments of his tampering, the yellow wand's glowing increased exponentially while the thunderous lightning became thicker and well charged reaching towards the sky and scraping the circular clouds which blotted out the full strength of the sun. Jace pulled back from the device watching the inner core turn rapidly in large bubble from its delicate blue taste into a hard red when the heating pads on the inner side of the coils began to heat up in intensity. He turned to look upward at the dome structure which appeared to grow thinner with visibility through it becoming more evident. The ice that encased The Flash began to thaw with moisture rapidly decaying away its former firmness. Quickly and without hesitation, Jace ran up along the left walls and landed on the dwindling ledge that The Flash has been stuck to. He placed his hands upon the sculpture of her and proceeded to vibrate them through breaking the ice and reducing the shards to moisture in the process. He felt a drip of sweat fall from his brow, "I've placed the thermal insulation at their highest capacity and ordered a clear day..." The Flash nearly slumped to the ground but was propped up by Jace's hands, "this miracle snow fall is about come undone very quickly; I can get you out of here..."

Captain Cold stayed slumped in his chair but managed to pull his hands back above the railing allowing them to drop to his sides near his waist. He pulled at his belt and produced the long barrel pistol from its holster; he aimed it upon his open cavity and shot it. Jace eyes lit up as he rested the Flash against the decaying wall and proceeded to look across at the captain whom appeared nearing death with the peaks of ice protruding from his chest. He was all prepared to save the villain when from his still pistol clutched hand he shot a mere metre in front of him and moved it from side to side creating an inner chamber that surrounded his being preventing the hero from making the desperate save. Jace crossed the pathway and knocked hard against it prepared to vibrate through but upon his cowl he heard the pattering of moisture recognizing now that there is little time for such an endeavour. He picked up The Flash and immediately ran back through the entrance way, down the ramp and allowed for his body to take the bulk of the hit through the faltering ice wall. Every step to shore, with the Flash's motionless body in his arms, proved to be difficult as the once thick layers began to turn thin and brittle, cracking into every possible direction.

"Jace, did you get her?" Jai's voice echoed in his ear.

"She's fine."

"All the blue points are turning red and yellow."

"Noted; the cities are about to become hot saunas in two minutes."

"No Jace," The Flash's voice drew out coarse as she reached her hand up ahead of the running speedster as they reached the beachhead. She was coming around with her head raised up and looking across the road way towards a dilapidated building.

"This place is about to flood, we need to get to higher ground..." Jace barked back as he continued to the street at the fastest pace he could accommodate.

"No..." her voice continued as she watched to a side building, a two story structure with various wilted holes caused by the decaying of quick frost. Jace watched turning his head to see a small young woman exit from one of the holes just as structure was just ready to give away. A near three foot wave of water was rushing down the street threatening to reduce his speed significantly if he proceeded to make an attempt to save her. The young woman looked up unbuttoning her wool jacket just in time to see the sun; her face pale, lips chapped, she looked up the sun with dry eyes. With little motive, Jace diverted his attention towards an alleyway veering off to the opposing side. Iris watched from over his shoulder as the waves overtook the poor woman whom became pinned up against the steel beams of the beachfront building which began to collapse around her along with all the other surrounding structures. She let out a loud coarse scream that surely hurt her as Jace narrowed his vision down to dodging through the opening holes of brick, mortar and steel taking through large shopping mart to avoid the waves.

* * *

Jace rushed through the family home door and proceeded to lay The Flash on the couch, looking up across the kitchen way he made his way to the basement, pulling through the false door and pattering down the bright steps to see Jai at work on the command pads of the large computer console, "take care of Iris," he commanded. Jai immediately pulled away from the desk and headed upstairs while Jace sat down to the computer immediately pulling up the temperature map of the twin cities where the white and blue specks had exploded into large bulbs of red, yellow and fluctuating greens. His hands Pressed hard on the projected buttons and flowed his hands from side to side along the panel producing prompts for universal connections, satellite connections and various other communication networks, "such out-dated devices," he commented to himself as he used his software prowess to scan through every device that he numerated on the screen. With shallow breaths he fall back into his chair watching as the fluctuating green came to a rest and the yellow taste became more evenly laid throughout both realms.

* * *

"I'm going to have to remove all the technology from Captain Cold's devices before someone else gets their hands on it," Jace, still garbed in full uniform, walked along the pathway out of the West's home.

"Captain Cold?" Jai questioned looked above the couch where his sister lay squirming in well ridden pain.

"Yes, he was combining Rogue technology, multiplying the strength of a Weather Wand through his own equipment," Jace furthered as he placed his hand on the handle and pulling it towards him, "I'll have it stored at the laboratory with the other collections, I'll want some time to study it," he looked towards Jai, "we'll debrief further when Iris is better."

"Alright," he blinked slowly, "what happened to the Captain?"

"Let himself sink to the bottom of the channel," Jace responded as he flew at his speed out the door.

"Jai?" Iris's voice came through as her eyes opened, Jai helped remove the full cowl from around her head relieving the tight constrictions around her.

"What happened Iris?"

"Captain Cold...he surprised...wasn't prepared," Iris's voice arrived but was still coarse and drawn out with loud breathing.

"It's alright now, Jace got you free, just rest now," Jai said to her with sympathy, "we'll talk more about this once your better."

"No," Iris's eyes shot up as she pushed her back forward and looked deep into her brothers eyes as she pulled him closer to her, "he let her die, that poor woman, he let her die..." she wavered away back into the unconscious state allowing her abilities to heal her body.

* * *

Iris's eyes opened slowly as she felt the comfort of soft pillows and small dotted comforter unique to her bed, she jolted herself up and found her costume still intact, save for the leather jacket, and surrounded by a thin layer of moisture which was drying effectively. She scanned around the large room which was quite clean with the personalized desk and computers to the walls with her own bed underneath the single large window that spanned along the side wall of the house though no light passed through the thick scarlet curtains. She took a deep breath as she raised herself to sit at the edge of the bed. She put aside the soft blue blanket from her legs and let her feet come into contact with the floor; all of her body was well intact and was quickly reaching its pinnacle operating condition.

"He said it was just a test run for something more," Iris heard the polite voice of Jace as she headed down the fine carpeted steps passing down the pictures that revealed her childhood and her fondness for her long gone parents, "not sure if he's manage to get out of the channel, I've scanned the area twice now and I've seen no sign of him."

"He didn't just want to ruin the cities? He's succeeded in making nearly a billion in property damage...nothing we haven't handled before..." Jai's voice chimed in with his muscular girth.

Iris came to a stop in the entrance way and leaned up against one side of the frame and examined her nervous brother whom sat uncomfortably on the long couch while Jace took to the singular adjacent couch he had come accustomed to with his back facing to her. She smiled at the acknowledgement of her brother but the feeling was quickly dispelled as she took a look down at the back of Jace's head, "how are you feeling," Jai looked to her. Jace rose to his feet and turned abruptly to come into proper contact with her.

"Tolerable," Iris uttered with a bit of disgust.

"I suggest you avoid immersing yourself in hot water till your whole temperature has been given time to recuperate."

"Thank you," Iris nodded with sarcasm as she turned her attention to Jai, "was I out for long."

"Just for the rest of the day, its evening now...thought you could stomach a rest till morning."

"No, not now..." she said sternly as she stepped from underneath the frame and stood at the top of the intersection between the two dark green couches a step below, "there is still much to talk about," Jace continued to face the wall but turned his head to meet contact with her, "you let that woman die."

"If such an attempt was made I may have not been able to get ourselves to safety...I had little time to assess your state of health or venture for plan for a proper escape route in the event I went back to save her."

"That's a load..." she said sharply as she placed her hands firmly on her waist falling forward to the top of the couch attempting to gain strength in her current state of weakness, "so even when you've managed to reach a logical reason for your involvement you find other reasons to forsake your involvement?"

"No it was not like that, I only sought out what was in the best interest of everyone else..." Jace kept to his calm calculating voice.

"What do you mean Jace," Jai spoke up. Jace turned the entirety of his body to look down him down.

"Iris possesses particular abilities that make her capable of saving more people in the long run."

"The lives of many out weight the lives of the few...future tense?" Iris questioned shockingly.

"Even more so, one or both of us could be at the bottom of the channel right now if an attempt was made to save the woman whom by all accounts had a below minimal chance of living..."

"What?"

"It was by rare coincidence that that woman was able to survive even the first few seconds of being thawed from a near absolute zero state; the cases where people have survived being frozen and then being exposed to warmth as quickly as she had have been very rare to say the least, without the abilities that our bodies possess it is likely that she would have given into fever within the first ten minutes that I rescued her from her physical impairment."

"Physical impairment?"

"Being human."

"No Jace," Jace refocused his eyes on Jai, "What do you really mean?"

"I..." he looked away from both of them but kept his cold demeanour, "benefit from your continued existence, your guidance had made me capable of overcoming the current weather...there are many things I have yet to learn under both of your tutelage."

"Minimal chance..." both the boys looked up at the evidently disturbed Iris, "that's enough for me," After a long glare she turned around and headed back for the entrance way towards the stairs up to her room.

"What are you doing?" Jai called out as he stood up.

"I need to sleep on this," Iris called out as she stomped hard into the steps.

"I'm very sorry if I offended her," Jace told Jai whom acknowledged him.

"It's a bit difficult for us to understand your mentality when it comes to these issues."

"Its standard study in my time, when I deviated from it I saw its absolute conclusion...I need to better myself, I need to learn, but I cannot allow myself to weighed down by these issues..."

"Issues...?"

"Your father, my father, they died because they believed in this notion of humanity as infirm and in need of our constant help, but how could this be the case? When will we be able to step back and allow them to fend for themselves?"

"But it never ends...there's always something for us to take on, Captain Cold is surely evident of "But it should end!" he stomped he threw his fist down, "there is no reason for our actions if it never amounts to anything...we have to actually learn from our collective pasts, take what little we can from them, and move forward...but now I'm not so sure that we can."

"This goal of mankind in your time...It sounds so villain-ish."

"This encounter with Captain Cold made me question that..." he let out a sigh, "I'm not entirely certain about my role any more, I so desperately want to believe I've taken the right actions, that the side that heroes of this time would have wanted for me has triumphed but when I make these reflections with Iris I cannot help but feel that I am more like one of them."

"Who?"

"The enemies, these rivals that the Flash has always faced up against. I'm having difficulty rewriting my mind to suit this time, this place that I have been put in."

"I think that's why your here," Jai looked up passionately at Jace whom could barely keep his head up, "It's not the time Jace, it's the person...but maybe this is the right time just to learn it. From what I can tell, you've been exposed to some worst this world will ever offer and you've made a life decision to support it..." he nodded, "but there's still a great deal of confusion over what's wrong or right."

"I don't ever want to be pushed into that mistake again...I can't..." Jace nodded with dissatisfaction in response then refocused his vision to the floor, "I don't want to go back...those thoughts, they just escalate...I wish I could be like you and Iris" he looked up at Jai locking eyes briefly, "but with what I've been given and what I've seen, there's this step...such an easy step towards that villainy..." he looked off into the distance with glazed eyes.

"What can we do for you then?"

Jace nodded his head and looked around the large wholesome living room, "I'd like to start a garden," Jace returned his attention to Jai, "I believe I can convert the outdoor hot tube space into a proper greenhouse, you know since its broken now," Jai's eyes widened with a bit of fear, "there's a lot of plant-life in this time that is so foreign to mine...I'd like to try my hand at cultivating it..."

"Sure," Jai contended with a small tear dripping from his eye, "whatever makes you feel like part of the family."


	10. Iota 3

Iota #3  
Volume 1. Story 2.  
This Heroic Ideal

_Chronology:  
_Pre-Young Justice #1

* * *

Deryck laid sprawled out on the floating chunk of dirt that exceeded double his height. He ran his palms through the soft blades of grass as he gazed upward towards the endless green skies with its darkened gaseous forms developing into a variety of shapes. Scrunching up his legs, he clutched his hands tightly to his knees and pulled himself up. His spiky black hair bounced as his back became straightened. With a smile he looked down at the blades, their darkened green hue, which he placed his fingers around and pulled gently before finally ripping from the ground taking traces of dirt with it. He pulled the extracts up to his face and rubbed his thumb up against it then let them fly into the wind; this world had become more real to him, "I'm dreaming," he looked up as a shadow was cast over top of him.

"You like it here..." the soft voice of a strange girl broke through to him. The gentle alien girl stepped down falling to her knees, her lightly orange skin contrasting the green skies with her pointed tip ears immediately betraying her origins while her green jumper outfit allowed for some conformity. She smiled slightly as she pulled her legs across one another and placed her hands on her lap facing Deryck.

"Kindred Emma..." Deryck let out an unheard laugh as he looked away from her looked down at the many earth rising platforms all rotating around a seemingly endless formation of particles. He turned upward to face her, "I want to be here all the time."

"Why?" her head tilted as she extended her back further upward.

"There's no pain here...I guess," his face scrunched up as she attempted to keep his eyes locked on hers, "none of this is real..." he saw her fall back a bit blinking sporadically while diverting her face from his, "I mean, your real though, right?"

"As real as you need me to be in this world," she responded in her soft tone as she looked back up at him.

"I'm not concerned about anything here, its a peaceful dream..." he turned away with a smirk, "blessed are the sleepy..."

"Pardon?" she questioned him.

"Nothing," he lowered his head while attempting to still look up at her, "I just can't wait to fall asleep...to be here..." he nodded his head and looked away, "forever," he said solemnly as they locked eyes, "no..." he rose sharply and motioned towards the edge of the platform, "whats happening to me..." he whispered under his breath.

"What's wrong?" her voice reached out to him sympathetically.

"I haven't finished...not...not in the real world," he turned back to her, "not in my world..."

"What does that mean?" Kindred Emma stood up and neared towards him.

"I need my revenge," Deryck clenched his right hand into a fist as he stared off into the distance. The glow of the atmosphere grew increasingly towards a darker hue of green. Steadily it had risen till the fog had appeared to have withdrawn but the change in other worldly appearance was short lived as the bitterness on his tongue subsided the moment he felt Kindred Emma's hand on his shoulder. A sudden calmness fell upon him resulting in a large deep breath as the small particles returned to form the cloudy skies lighted up by the paling green.

"You don't need to worry about that anymore," she pulled her hand up to his cheek as he found himself nearly embraced by her, "I'm happy where I am, aren't you?"

"But he killed you...and Gary," he shook his head in a small motion as to avoid losing her enduring grasp, "someone must answer to that crime...and I've been given the ability to do just that and I intend to follow through on it," he looked deeply into her eyes, "I have to...I must."

Kindred Emma's jaw dropped slightly as her eyes widened with the formation of sadness, "I want you safe, you know not of these worlds that we came from...please...I need you to stay with me."

"I will," Deryck contended, "But I have to do this, I feel it...don't you know?" He shook her off and circled around the platform contemplating the thoughts that swamped him. She let out a small sigh as her hands dropped to her sides.

"It's that ring isn't it?" she asked gesturing with the intent to pull him back to her, "it's in you, in here," she closed her eyes and tapped the sides of her thighs with the tips of her fingers, "it's full of hate...it wants you to give in to it..." she said opening her eyes to him, "it wants you to commit acts of violence...to kill...all these things I know couldn't be who you are," she raised her hands and rushed over to him. She placed her hands on his upper arms and lowered herself to look up at his downed head, "you can't become this..."

"I'm not becoming anything," Deryck's voice grew gruffer as the atmosphere once again darkened to a near black. He formed fists in his hands allowing for the blood to boil them red, "I'm doing what I should be...doing what's right."

"Revenge is such a devolved sensibility...you should overcome it."

"This doesn't have to be about revenge then," he let his grasp go, "let it be retribution then, for what they've done to you," he pleaded sympathetically with her, "Don't you understand what I'm going through here, what's happened me in such a short time of my life? I have no room to think about anything but this!"

"Let these feelings subside," she nudged forward, "all that this path of vengeance has brought upon many is death, and what good is it all then? What will you do when this is over?"

"I don't know...use this ability for good?" he shuttered a bit his teeth down while his eyes closed firmly.

"You need not concern yourself with this hesitation if you avoid this scheme, if you remain here with me you will have no worries for what happens out there...your decisions for the plight of good or the desires of evil will have no consequence."

"Stay here?" Deryck fell back from his footing leaving her outstretched arms, "but this thing," he raised up his hand outstretching its backside to show the full magnitude of the glowing ring, "this power...it's not like it will go away...there are voices coming from it..."

"The lanterns ring..." she placed her delicate hands onto his and felt up the long fingers holding the one possessing the ring which she proceeded to take a deep look into.

"You know of them."

"Yes," she briefly looked up at him before returning her attention back to the ring, "they were great heroes throughout the galaxy...ones of self-sacrifice...but I've never known this power to hold such force over anyone."

"Oh," Deryck's voice peaked up, "it's something new, the Lantern I'm with said it's something of its own, a mind."

"It is quite strong...its watching us now..." her eyes began to blink rapidly, "its influencing you...saying something," he head slowly tilted to her left shoulder as the pupils of her eyes began to glow green, "how could you seek revenge with such a history attached to them?" she looked up at Deryck and spoke quickly dropping his hand in the process, "these heroes would never seek to kill, they would never..." her forehead wrinkled as she attempted to pull Deryck back to him, "you would never kill, I felt that the moment I met you...neither would I...don't ever commit such a tragedy on my behalf."

"I can hear it...talking to me," Deryck continued turning his voice down to a whisper, "it wants it...I'm not a hero."

"Don't let it in."

He took a deep breath as he stared her down coldly, "but I want it in...such power," she fell back as Deryck pressed himself towards her, "you don't understand what I can do now...I can change everything with this," he raised his hand up and showed it to be glowing exceptionally bright blotting out the once dark logo embedded in its circular top design, "It wants this revenge as much as I want it...and its willing to make it happen..."

"But what of me then," she crossed her arms across her body and held her hands below her waist.

"I can find you, you home..." he commented softly as he dropped his intimidating posture, "but if I can't do this for your sake, at least let me do this for myself...and for Gary."

"Deryck," Kindred Emma's voice became sullen, "your leaving now."

"Leaving, leaving what?"

"I'll see you again soon," her eyes widened with sadness as Deryck fell to a knee. Looking up at her he found his senses to become dazed as the details of her person became blurry.

* * *

"Ah great your awake," a cheerful voice came from his side, "you enjoy your sleep?"

Deryck's head rose abruptly with a puzzled look. Keeping his body flat against the soft mattress he looked around his environment questioning who he was, where he was and how he had managed to come across this place. The room was quite understandably small being a long rectangular strip of inner living that was hypothetically duplicated on the opposing wall to form the floor of the building. To the side facing outside was a decently sized window where the sun shot a beam of light along the broad side of the room where Deryck found his body to be facing. Deryck was in a single person bed with thick dark brown covers over top of his lower body; a similar looking bed was nearby him closest to the window though unlike his, this bed went seemingly unused. Along the wall ahead of him was a large robust dresser that reached halfway up the wall and following along this wall path to the window was a narrow table that interceded on both walls where the lantern, Kyle Rayner, was sitting in plain black clothing typing away into a small black notebook that lit up in his eyes.

"What's wrong," Kyle turned around and raised an eyebrow.

Deryck looked back placing his right hand to his forward and scratching at the hair that firmly planted itself there, "I can't remember how I got here..."

"Oh," Kyle said with some resigned shock, "well, you were really tired when we got here..."

"Yeah!" Deryck shot up pushing away the covers just before his knees, "the fairgrounds..." he looked off into the wall analyzing the cream coloured drawers that stretched throughout the dresser, "did we find anything?" Deryck looked back at Kyle.

"You were there for hours, looking at nearly every inch," Kyle responded unenthusiastically, "you know it would help if you told me what exactly you were looking for."

"I don't know..." Deryck looked down at the small aquatic coloured dots that worked into a stringy pattern that comprised the carpet floor, "I'd rather not think about it now."

"Alright," Kyle responded turning back to this screen to continue his work.

"Where are we exactly?"

"I had an industrialist friend back in the day, Ted Kord..." Kyle smiled as he reminisced, "he had some places set up throughout the country for some of his buddies to use whenever they were in town and needed quick shelter."

"Couldn't he have made something with a bit of luxury?"

"He was an inventor and superhero, luxury was not on the agenda when it came to founding some quick safe houses...and..." his head nodded around a bit from side to side, "he wasn't exactly the most accomplished business man."

"The way you appear to live your life I bet it'd be fair to say you guys don't have much time for business ventures let alone personal lives..." Deryck stated attempting to convey some sympathy for their lives.

"No," Kyle responded reaching a more serious tone of thought that manifested in a deeper vocalization, "there are just some people who weren't cut out for a natural human life and the life of a hero..."

"You gave up on yours?" Deryck leaned forward pushing the covers off his barren legs.

"For the better cause I'm told," he turned to look at Deryck and allowed a small smile to react upon his face, "I hope to change that now that I'm back home...I hope you don't mind but I'm going to try to weasel my way back into a more honest living..." he turned back to the computer screen and stretched his hands over the glass panel beneath it which glowed up the letters and number notations, "going to see if I can find a place to live first."

"You really don't mind taking care of me?" Deryck swivelled from his seating position and allowed for his bare feet to drop over the edge and land on the spotty floor between the two bed, "like, how long am I going to have to be around?"

"As long as you've got that ring on," Kyle continued to look at the screen, "if its bonded there's going to be some difficulty, especially since your human and one so young...you've got all these strange emotions and feelings clouding your thoughts, but it's likely that the guardians could take it off if they found it necessary."

"Wait, why would a lantern ring want to bond anyway?"

"Normally they don't, I can take my ring off at will...the rings have somewhat of a mind programmed in them; they choose the wielder whom is most suitable to them. I can only assume that the young state of your rings mind was easily adapted to you when you picked it up...Kai-Ro is supposed to meet with us latter to discuss the situation in relation to the guardians..."

"That the real lantern?"

Kyle scrunched an eyebrow back up as he turned to look down Deryck, the young teen in a tardy black shirt and shorts looked back at him awkwardly, "you know, I was lantern of this planet too!"

"You say that like you're not even from here...are you?"

He turned back to his screen, "I've spent a lot time elsewhere...the lantern system will do that to you..." his voice began to fade off, "even your home becomes just another number among the multitudes in this universe."

Deryck circled around the bed keeping his head down and pressing hard against the floor. He found the door at the end of a small hallway which existed only by the presence of a smaller wall which possessed a slightly ajar door leading into a bathroom. He recognized the widening thick fabric of his shoes with his pant legs surrounding it which he proceeded to bend down to pick up and determine whether it was still suitable for wear. "Where are you headed?" Kyle asked feeling momentarily distracted by the boy's movement.

"I need to go back to the fair ground with a clear head..."

"I thought you said you were done with that?"

"Did I?" Deryck raised himself and looked at the door way leading out.

Kyle swivelled his body around the chair and looked across as Deryck back noting his clenched fists and angry ridden posture, "You know I can be of help, if you want it..."

"I need to deal with this...on my own..." Deryck continued as he proceeded to make his way to the door clasping the circular gold coloured handle and turning.

"I'll need to be keeping my eye on you till Kai-Ro returns, that kind of power you have there..." he tilted his head, his eyes betraying sympathy, "we can see about getting that ring off."

"I could use it...for now," Deryck opened the door and proceeded out into the hallway.

"Either way, I need to be coming along..."

The door slammed on its self, Deryck analyzed each side of the hallways feeling the cold breeze running along the thin red carpet and continued running up along the pale yellow stained walls, "what do you mean you're saving me?" Deryck crouched low and looked at the ring on his hand once he had felt that he was fully alone, "saving me from what?...tell me?"

* * *

Deryck flew above the fairgrounds: its small rocky grounds, its quiet amusement park and cold brown exterior of the large octagonal shaped arena being gently lit up by the tired sun regaining its form in the day. The large two metre high caged fence circled around the large miles wide grounds stretching from the distant large rides to the parking lot whereby his eyes darted along towards the garage where more recent past memories quickly flooded and distilled his flying behaviour. The aura around him grew a strong green while the temporary lantern uniform, the green bulky boots clasped tightly to his feet and the finger follow through hard edged gloves continued up his forearm coming to a stop at the top of elbows allowing for the shoulder bands and octagon shaped decals on each end and in a large variation upon his chest like a logo lacking in any individuality.

Deryck kept his head up with the rest of his body naturally orientated to head downward, legs extended with hands raised and spread out from his body to help him gain balance in his descent; thinking of his actions and the results of those thoughts were still difficult to grasp. Each foot came to land on the small rocky texture of the ground allowing for his boots to sink in as the green aura left him. The jagged edges of his mask that stretched from cheek to temple continued to glint from the oncoming sun rays. He placed the free fingers of his right hand against the gate and proceeded to walk along it towards the large gates that continued in the cage pattern. The bars that ran vertical to each other at the centre of the wide spanning gates were carefully shut but metal circular bands that shot all the way up within foot intervals of one another. He paused in his steps and felt the line formed between the two bars fused together and reflected on the situation. Turning his head to look down the way further he noticed an attachment to the outside of the gate, a square device that was firmly attached to one of the steel beams. He pushed himself away from the gate and stepped towards it taking the device in both his hands. It was a computer console of some sorts; a simple screen embedded into a square plaque which showed to him one red rectangular button at the bottom of the screen and above it text relaying the information regarding the fair grounds. He placed a finger on the button and let go of it, "zzzt-" the device started up, "This site is slated for demolition on Thursday, September 6th at 20:15..."

Deryck's head tilted to his shoulder as he analyzed the text that affirmed the console's words, "they sure we're able to move fast..." he commented to himself under his breath.

"Have you found anything new of interest?" Kyle's voice interjected in the boys thoughts. He came from above, his right leg aimed forward to the ground with his left bent slightly at the knee while his hands kept straight to the sides of his body fully as he hovered down.

"This wasn't here last night was it?" Deryck turned slightly to look at Kyle as his feet firmly came to the down and the shield power that the ring provided quickly dropped.

"There was a whole lot of nothing," Kyle commented as he took steps to suck in the distance that separated him from his companion, "It's possible that we could have missed the issuing of it."

"So fast?" he turned back down the console, "wasn't this place always so busy?"

"I wouldn't know," Kyle commented with humility on his tongue, "I'm sorry to say that places like this do not exactly hit me like the way they do anyone else...it's a lost form of entertainment for someone who's been away for so long...besides I never lived around here even when I was around."

"On earth?" Deryck raised an eyebrow as he looked back at Kyle.

"Yes," Kyle smiled as his arms raised and crossed one another across his chest. Deryck placed his ring hand on the cage and slumped lowly taking a deep look into the background of the fair where the square trailer like apartments lined from wall to wall with a few grounded homes in between, "is your head clear enough to tell me what exactly you're looking for...or at least what happened here?"

"It's all moving too fast," Deryck quickly shot back with a monotone drawl, "I show up, something happens...but it all goes far too quickly before I can realize just what it was that was going on..."

"And now..." Kyle approached the cage.

"And now," Deryck continued, "I only feel what must be a lasting pain...I don't like it...I have to do something about it."

"Deryck," Kyle started with suspicion, "what happened here...?"

Deryck blinked rapidly before regaining focus, "let's check out the inner grounds..."

The green flow of energy quickly enveloped Deryck's body as he began to raise letting go of his moorings on the fence. When his feet came to the top of the fence he pushed his soles forward tapping onto the ends of the wire and pressing upon them for leverage and he propelled himself forward towards the stadium back wall. Keeping at a quick hovering pace he circled around the frontal wall and headed down the hallway turning at the proper way leading down to the entrance into the main arena. Kyle followed suit heading along the cavernous brick walls leading inward, "you searched this place for hours..."

"Did I?" Deryck feet came to clasp down on the light dirt coating of the otherwise soft tar like circular grounds. His hands fell to his side while he walked towards the centre ring through the open inside, the empty benches of the stands appearing all the more menacing with the understanding of His and Kyle's green hued aura being the sole lights save for some sun light shades that took close to the grounds circulating around the entirety of the building.

Kyle landed on the ground and took firm steps towards Deryck, his feet forming deeply into the substance that comprised the floor, "you haven't said much about what happened here..." he paused in his steps and crossed his arms just short ten paces from Deryck whom had dropped to the ground placing his hands firmly into the dirt, "do you not remember any of this?"

"Between fighting off a monster that want to kill me..." he looked back at Kyle, his head still lowered with shame having overwhelmed his conscious, "I just haven't processed what happened yet..." he nodded his head with strong dissatisfaction looking down at the ground.

"Start with me!" Kyle said sternly.

"What do you mean?" Deryck beckoned back with a weakened voice unable to turn his vision away from the ground before him.

"I don't like that look in your eye...blind vengeance," Kyle continued to stare down at the young man, "I've seen this before in other wielders and I've never liked the consequences its taken, that power in your hands now...that's not what's its used for," Deryck looked up with a wide frown, "It won't help you accomplish your goal here."

"What are my goals lantern?" Deryck turned back away from the towering lantern.

"I don't know..." Kyle's voice became dry and emotionless, "but they aren't a part of the lanterns code and ethics."

"I didn't join your team..." Deryck spat back, "the ring bonded to me...it chose me!"

"Then it choose you for a reason," Kyle reached out his arm sympathetically, "the ring is built of morals as a agent of just causes, it selected you ...whatever is going on in your head right now, that can't be why it chose you to be its wielder."

"Why not?" Deryck breathed deeply as he fell down to his armoured knees planting them down into the dirt feeling the soft flooring engulf their caps, "because of this code you people follow?"

"Precisely."

"No you don't understand," Deryck pulled his arms to the side of his head and clasped it, "its talking to me...it wants me to think like this, to follow through on this mission," he bit down on his bottom lip as the seconds lapsed each other in silence, "this is justice," he spoke calmly as he rose, "this is what it wants of me..." he turned towards Kyle and pulled his hands to his chest in a cup like manner, "my acts of vengeance are justified."

"Well then," Kyle looked firmly at the young man before him taking quick deep breaths, "then, what is it that you're looking for here? I'm here to assist, let me know what happened here and I can help."

Deryck nodded in understanding. Following a deep breath, Deryck shook his shoulders loose and looked down to the ground at his side, "I was found by this man...Shilo, he brought me to the fairgrounds...I don't know why," he looked up and watched Kyle as he drew closer to him, his eyes grew wide as the formation of lies formulated with the aim to convince a point, "he came to find me...he was human, at least I think he was?"

"What do you mean human?"

"Well..." Deryck's head wavered as his eyebrows juggled, "the entertainers and the maintenance crew...they were all aliens..." the words turned to a bit of disgust at the full concept realization, "but then there was this girl, this person from another world..." Kyle's interest peak as he came to stand on par with Deryck at the centre of the arena, he looked up at the lantern, "we got to know each other really fast...she was nice," his voice wavered.

"Great," Kyle nodded unconvincingly, "but what happened?"

"She...she died," he looked away from his while his weak voice continued, "there was some other alien guy...not a part of the people here..." Kyle stepped up his attention level as Deryck planted himself stronger into the ground looking straight ahead of himself, "the councillor, the leader or whatever, he failed to live up to a deal that he had made," he clenched his right fist and threw it down into the open palm of his left hand, "so this Slimy monster came and took everyone as his slaves...I tried to interfere!" he looked up at Kyle once more with the vengeance in him shining through, "but he wasn't going to take that, this alien, he wanted me dead but then this girl...and her friend...they took the dive for me...they died so that I could come back one day and take this guy on...kill him myself and free everyone he's ever enslaved."

Kyle stood silently off to the boy's side attempting to assess the situation at hand, his head shook slightly from side to a side as his eyes looked upon Deryck but seemingly went straight through him; "this ring," Deryck continued, "it called out to me, it's telling me that this is why it choose me...my drive to do what's right...my acts shall be justified."

"Alright then," Kyle responded calmly, "let's look then..."

"How did they leave here so quickly with everything?" Deryck questioned as he began to pace the circular centre pulling his ring hand upward to shine a small circular light in the direction of the ground and the walls all around it.

"Not from this world correct?" Kyle questioned gaining the attention of Deryck.

"Yeah, does that mean anything?"

"All the physical evidence has probably been taken care of quite efficiently," Kyle affirmed himself as he raise his ring hand in a fist up to his face watching it glow, "perhaps they used something a little more than a few ships to travel in which case the ring can be of more use than just a flashlight...Ring," Kyle spoke into it, "Analyze all forms of energy exempting other lantern forms," his fist extended outward and shone out the flashlight stream of green and proceeded to step around in a circle as the circular point at the end of the light grew larger and encompassed the ground and rose up to the tops of the building.

"What are you doing?"

"The ring is something of a crime lab in of itself..." Kyle started as he continued his scan which seemed to be reaching closer to the centre, "it will pick up on any sign of your pals if interstellar teleportation was involved..."

"Well," Deryck voice beckoned while his head wobbled from shoulder to shoulder, "did you find anything?"

"It would appear so," Kyle's ring aimed down towards the centre causing Deryck to move slightly out of its path, "you know," Kyle hunched an eye up to look at Deryck as the rest of him drew closer to the centre crouching ever so slowly as he reached, "you could learn how to do this yourself, your ring is more than capable..." Deryck attempted to nod but could only manage a stare down at the green highlighted centre. After a few moments of this in depth analysis, Kyle's light came to a stop and he stood up straight, "I've encountered this energy before," Kyle's voice fell into deeply serious tone, "but it can't be..."

"Where does it come from?" Deryck questioned sternly making his way close to his new mentor.

"It's a form of teleportation alright," Kyle's voice returned to its upbeat attitude, "its call boom tubes...the lanterns haven't encountered any of these signatures in long time, the league even more so...who could have tapped into this technology?"

"What do you mean?" Deryck became puzzled as wrinkles formed along his forehead.

"There was this kind of war...nothing I was involved in; it was sort of something that just happened..." Kyle raised his head towards the roof and tilted to his left shoulder, "or will happen," he fell back down, "either way, all the beings that used this kind of technology are either dead or trapped in another realm."

"So how did that freak get it then?"

"I don't know...but this has quickly become something of interest," Kyle's voice became serious as he started straight ahead of himself seemingly ignoring the young boy to his side, "we should get some more information about the staff that used to run this place...I'll have to contact the league headquarters."

"What am I getting out of this?" Deryck stepped up to come on par with the taller muscular lantern attempting to gain his visual attention but coming up short.

"Well, you've already help us by bringing me here, seems only fair that I give you your opportunity to achieve your goals."

"So we're working together then...?"

"Just the way I wanted it," Kyle finally turned his attention to the boy, "something terribly wrong has happened here. An attempt to investigate further must be undertaken..." Kyle paused attempting to gain some thoughts.

"So what do we do now?"

"The League and I have a friend who lives in town here..." Kyle's voice grew shallow, " he might be able to help us out..."

"Friend, heh," Deryck arched his back and watched his foot kick deeper into the dirt, "I wouldn't have gotten into all of this if Shilo had stayed...where did he go?" he muttered lowly to himself.

"Who?" Kyle spoke up.

"Where did he go? That..." Kyle nodded his head as his foot continued to dive deeper into the soft grounded rubber, "what did he want from me anyway...this isn't my fault then," he raised his head in approval of his latest thought.

"Who are you going on about?" Kyle's voice slurred as he attempted to bring Deryck back to reality.

"Shilo..." Deryck pulled himself up straight and motioned his hands up and down, "he's this escape artist...he found me and brought me here...I don't know why."

"An escape artist?" Kyle said lowly under his breath.

"He must have wanted something, to draw me in for some reason," Deryck shook his head violently, "reasons?"

"What did he say to you? Deryck?" Kyle became more serious and monotone.

Deryck tilted his head towards Kyle, "I don't know really..." he began with evident uncertainty, "he was looking for someone to help him...be his assistant or something," he waved his right hand and looked away from the glare Kyle had forced upon him, "a successor? But he knew so much about me...he had files," his eyebrows rose causing crinkles on his forehead, "files on me..."

"Alright," Kyle shot in snapping Deryck's puzzlement, "let's go see my friend, he can probably shed some light on this situation you've gotten into."

"do you know something," he took deep short breaths as he found Kyle's tall and strong posture to be intimidating.

"let's go see my friend."

"OK," Deryck nodded his head in affirmation.

* * *

The decaying region of the city was dutifully explored, pausing upon the taller nine story brick structure with metal bands that circled around the structure attached to the tall similarly grey shining pillars that connected on every corner of the squared building. Square windows of near two foot sizes spaced one another as six on each end but were all adequately boarded up. A wooden fence took to the perimeter of the building with no entrance while extending down over four blocks and prevented from reaching across the horizon by two near deserted roads which stood littered despite the evident waste bins on the far reaching lampposts. The illustrious mid-twentieth century buildings of various sizes stood lengthwise against the road with their open shop appearances but all too well trodden paint that exposed their age.

The tall green glowing figures hovered down from the dark clouded skies reaching down towards the dry cement and over top of the wooden panelled fence. The boot of the taller muscular lantern stepped upon the inner cemented arena formed within the the fence and stopped by the brick building which ahead had only a set of stairs leading downward while the windows continued all around.

Deryck let out a disgruntled punt of air, "what kind of the friend lives in this place?"

"This is a sensitive area," Kyle firmly responded as he pattered slowly across the hard ground towards the steps.

"Sensitive? This is dirt hole!"

"It's not too much different from say Gotham..." Kyle nodded his head but bit his lip at the thought of the comparison. He shook his shoulders circling them up and down, "there just some parts that are so immersed in the peoples mind... a culture sort of forms in these regions."

"Still a dirt hole!"

"We won't be here long," he took his first two steps downward before turning back to look up at the nearing Deryck, "it's probably best that I should warn you about his eccentricities..." a silence followed, "probably best you don't say anything or touch anything..."

"Who is this guy?"

"He's more of a question."

* * *

The two lanterns entered a strange room that was oddly difficult to look into being that the only source of light came from a small fireplace some distance away at the centre of back wall. Every step towards this source turned into a trudge as they found littered on the floor various hard bound books piled upon one another, classical sources of information with print found upon papers some of which were so old that the bindings had given up and the slips of paper there within had fallen slightly out of the hard cover wrappings.

Three small buckets stood raised above the ground three feet held there by a wooden bar that connected from the corner of the right wall to the back wall, from them arose a unpleasant aroma that could only be found duplicated on the hopeless inner streets. Deryck rose his hand to block his mouth as he felt the taste of the drugs causing him to develop concerns for this 'friends' state of mind. Above the books plastered on the deep brown canvas walls were various photos and strips of newsprint of the kind that Deryck could not believe still existed. He stood and examined these strip and the red bars that had seemingly been placed over top of them and connected information, he paused in his steps to analyze more closely and discernible writing or perhaps an acquired printing date while Kyle pressed forward towards the fire place.

As Kyle drew closer, an unsteady formulation of breath came upon him as a smallish man in a long coat could be made out next to the fire place which glowed beyond the wood that gave it fuel. The beings arm reached out across the wooden ledge while his head aimed downward at the ground, the dark fedora upon his head being aimed down nearly to the nasal region obscuring any facial features.

"Where...are..." the voice shoved through at short two second intervals between words while his head nodded from shoulder to shoulder but unfixed from the floor, "our desires?"

"I'm look for information," Kyle strictly spoke with little emotive.

The man curved his head slightly towards the towering Kyle, "friend seeking my help once more?" he continued in his unusual paced tone while his head continued bop around on its neck.

"I've met this boy here, Deryck."

"He is not a lantern..."

"No," Kyle leaned forward as he realized it wasn't a question asked.

"Still...he has the ring."

Deryck, having overheard his name said, began to make his way closer to Kyle above the littered papers stepping on the little open spots that were scarce at best, "yes, he came into a contact with a man named Shilo, an entertainer at-"

"Hub City fair grounds," The man raised his head with the interruption. He turned to face Deryck and Kyle immediately causing a sensation of pain through the young boy's body. The man's face was blank, no discernible features, a raised platform for a nose but ever so lacking in a region for the mouth and soulless empty eyes. The skin was of a pure light hue that continued through the entirety of the man's face up his ears which were simple with not even the smallest of normal design of holes present, "I know of Shilo..." he tilted his head to his left shoulder, "has he left this world? Is this why you are here for me?"

"His name sounds familiar with his profession," Kyle interjected, "I was certain you might know something of Shilo or at the very least the work on the fairgrounds..."

"What do you know!" Deryck stepped around Kyle and lunged himself towards the mysterious individual.

"Deryck," Kyle snapped as he grabbed the boys shoulder and brought him back towards him, "don't interfere."

"Who is this guy?" Deryck spat out his question looking upward at his mentor.

"That's the proper question," the darkened figure responded in his whispered now with his hands appearing to waddle around on the barrings of his wrists.

"He's the Question," Kyle firmly responded his stern gaze never turning from the figure ahead of them illuminated ever so slightly by the graceful fire.

Deryck face scrunched up as he attempted to think this realization through, "I thought the Question was a woman..." he turned back to the figure still hunched well onto the wooden ledge above the fire.

"She..." his chin fell down to his chest, "has been retired for some time."

"Oh," Deryck head rose as he looked upon the Question figure.

"Deryck then," the Question's arm fell from the ledge and came down to his side. He came to face the adjacent wall to the lanterns right as he placed his hands behind his back gripping tightly to his wrists with his right hands, "the troubled child outside the law receives the greatest weapon in the universe designed for the quest of justice...will he use it so, that is question."

"What do you know about me!" Deryck returned to his acquired disrespectful tone.

"The boy asks questions once more," the Question retorted as though Deryck were not present. Deryck attempted to restrain Deryck pulling him towards him with his hand tightly gripped upon his shoulders, "though since he is of the asking nature...I shall abide him so with answers from my findings..."

"You know of Shilo...?" Kyle interjected with his question.

"Indeed," the expressionless face turned towards the two appearing over his shoulder, "we had been in close contact...for two years."

"I suspect he came to visit you recently...he sounded familiar but I can't seem to place my finger on it."

"Indeed. He visited this past Wednesday at four fifty," A pause in the conversation ensued before the Question took command once more; "he is perhaps more thoroughly recognized for his former position as Mister Miracle."

Deryck froze in a bit of shock which was followed by a small creeping smile, "the one whom escaped the event horizon's black hole?"

"Wait," Kyle interrupted, "didn't he disappear like two decades ago?"

"That would be a correct response," the Question continued with his paced words, "there was a war some time back..." Deryck nodded his head understanding the correlation with the war he had just learnt of, "he used to be a part of your league of heroes whom hire me for my adequate findings on these such matters..."

"Yes, but I don't seem to remember him and I've been a member for most my life and I know of the war..."

"That much is true," the Question raised his right hand and protruded his index finger, "this war however...Shilo, though a native of this planet, belonged to another order of beings on worlds above ours, the physical plane you understand..." his hand dropped down to his side, "when the war above the physical forces commenced it was necessary that he go into hiding, with the exception of a few key individuals, the public consciousness of his identity outside of Mister Miracle turned to moot."

Kyle looked down at Deryck whom was rocking back and forth on his feet with the grin still firmly attached, "are you alright?" he paused to question.

"I met Mister Miracle..." Deryck responded as a small giggle escaped him as short steam.

"So the boy has a story worth investigating..."

"What?" Deryck said shockingly as he tore at Kyle's arm.

"This may be so," the Question raised his arms turning his body to face them and let his wrists lay limp at chest height, "he was under the suspicion that someone had found him..." he tilted his head and seemingly looked down at Deryck, "has left this planet already?"

Deryck let out a deep breath, "yeah," he scoffed, "he just left me here. Left me with this mess..."

"A pity," the Question stated with neither a single emotion at either end of the spectrum present.

"What did he want from you?" Kyle pestered his question further.

"He asked for some information," the tilting of the Question's head grew even more prominent as his fixation turned down to Deryck puzzled features, "information on a Deryck S. Ethreal...?" Deryck let out some deep quick paced breaths as he clenched down his teeth understanding now how Shilo managed to gather intelligence on his being.

"No, no...but for what reason?" Kyle continued his questioning.

"Unstated," The Question retorted quickly, "though..." he raised his hand once more extending the long gloved index finger, "since I fear this to be a matter most suited to your capabilities...Shilo's encounter with me has lead me to believe there be reason to further investigate the hub city fair grounds..."

"And...?" Deryck puzzled himself with enthusiastic glee that followed the evident pause in the discussion.

"I found them all to be missing...less than two nights back.""

"Yes, they we're taken..." Deryck solemnly spoke.

The Question raised his left arm and placed it gently on the mantle and hunched himself above the fiery display below bowing his head lowly, "I...wasn't the only person making investigative claims into the Fair Grounds...another, much crafty individual or group has decisively broken into league intelligence to find all record of the grounds and the employment there in."

"The league would have picked it up."

"Indeed," The Question retorted, "The Manhunter achieved in blocking the server of the individual or group as soon as I had alerted him of the information in question...it is very unusual that someone would concern themselves with investigative work like myself and not consult the proper authorities on the matter."

"Someone was trying to delete the files..." Kyle interjected.

"It would appear so, make the disappearance a full one indeed and the individual or group nearly achieved such."

"We found some energy residue from boom tube technology, it was rather faint. Do you have anything we can use that corroborates with that?"

"I do not have any such information," the Question returned with short words, "now what exists of the beings who lived there are the files have stored here...will you take them to the Manhunter?" his head raised and aimed towards Kyle, "they will be most necessary to the Manhunter..."

"What do you mean?" Kyle spoke deeply as his body began to rock slightly.

"I do not doubt that someone has witnessed your presence at the grounds...as they have witnessed my own interaction thereof...I have no desire to be a part of these unearthly matters...they do not concern my intelligence, still if the question of ethics is at hand...I do believe you may be more mildly suited to 'return' these persons safely..."

The Question pulled down his left arm and turned slightly to motion his hand towards a pile of books that formed a table like placing some short distance away from them. Deryck immediately turned around from Kyle and headed towards the region quickly dropping to a knee and pulling away at the cream coloured folders that sat gently stacked on top of one another easily blending into the books, "paper...you could have easily fit all these on-"

"I Will Not Be A part Of Your Techno-Babble!" The Question immediately shouted out with his hands forming into clenched fists deviating from the intervals between the words that characterized his speech, "Look What This Technology Has Done? Your Files So Easily Accessed And Now Possibly Gone For Ever! I Never Lose What Books I Have...You Young Ones Have Forgotten...!"

"Well I don't know," Deryck responded with some cheekiness, "what if there's like a fire...?"

The Question, though obscured in all proper features, appeared to Deryck as though he was blowing steam off with his fists ever so gently moving outward and inward from his as he rocked even more so slightly from his toes to his heels.

"Deryck please," Kyle nodded his head down towards the boy raising and hand up towards him, "I'll make sure the Manhunter receives the files," he stated turning up to the Question whom was slowly calming down.

"Very Well," the Question snapped back quickly, "I must...know of your progress."

"I'll be sure to notify you..."

"I know I am of very few connections...but Shilo was a friend of mine as he was once a friend for many of your teammates but my intelligence in these unearthly matters..."

"Don't be too concerned," Kyle firmly responded strapping down his hands to his thighs, "we'll do our best to find him."

* * *

"So?" Deryck fell down onto cement sidewalks and leaned up against the wooden fence. Bending his knees upward, he pulled up the foot high stack of folders that were bound together by twine, "there's probably like a hundred files here..." Deryck looked up watching Kyle gently glide down over top of the fence, "all kind of small though...does the league keep files on everyone."

Kyle came to a stop on the ground and examined Deryck whom was carefully undoing the twine that held the folders bounded, "only on persons not native to this world...and some people of more notable interest," he let out a sigh as his body relaxed its posture, "we're not exactly like what the conspiracy theorists attempt to make us look...at least I don't believe it was such when I was around...its been some time."

"No time for memories..."

"Sure," Kyle shortly responded.

Deryck began to rip away at the documents at hand, opening the first slips to reveal an assortment of text bound sheets with the occasional photograph that appeared more as a immigrant mugshot. Extraterrestrials of strange colours, some of whom Deryck had recognized, appeared in these folders but he was uncertain as to how helpful this would be to his investigation, "there's nothing on Shilo..."

"I figure as much, the Question rarely shows respect for anyone," he neared his sighting down at Deryck whom became shocked upon recognizing this, "if this Shilo was trying to escape something, I'm certain he would have achieved complete anonymity."

"Well," Deryck's head fell back against the fence dropping the bulk of the files that had already been looked through to his side, "what do we do now?"

"I'm going to contact the Manhunter," Kyle faced down the boy, "maybe he's worked out an source address for our hacker."

"Yeah," Deryck leaned forward a bit repositioning his bottom with both hands extended into the hard ground, "whose this Manhunter person?"

"Not surprised...he kind of sets up all the missions for the league, he doesn't get out much himself..." Kyle looked away from Deryck to find an area in which a quick communication could be made, "but I'm certain he knows something about this by now."

Deryck leaned at his fullest extent against the fence, pulled up his hands to his thighs and held open one of the smaller files. He breathed a deep sigh as the top of his head came into contact with the wood. He ran the palm of his right hand over the smooth glossy sheet of paper as he narrowed his eyes down to look upon it over the tops of his cheeks, "is that the friend you lost?" Deryck refocused upon Kyle whom he saw having leaned in over top of him with his hands held behind his back, head aimed downward towards the file while keeping a small unintelligible smile across his face.

Following a short nod to Kyle, Deryck bowed his head down and crossed his hands across the folder locking fingers blocking out much of the text underneath the top third which held an obscure photograph in lighter tones of black, grey and white, "yeah," he breathed out deeply, "she took a bullet for me," his right eyebrow raised as he looked up at Kyle's shock, "yeah, literally...I'm still not entirely sure as to why."

"There's a reason for everything," Kyle bent his knees and came to squat down in front of Deryck whom looked across at him with wavering vision, "we'll figure this out for you alright?" he said with much seriousness when their eyesight came to lock.

"Purpose?" Deryck responded shortly, "what does that make me? Two near death opportunities blocked by the deaths of two others..." he tilted his head upwards and let out a confused giggle under his breath, "I'm never going to die..."

"Yeah, not the kind of purpose I was thinking..." Kyle responded with similar jest seeped in sarcasm. "Alright..." he stood up and slapped the inner plates of gloved hands across one another up and down, "I'll make that call up to the Manhunter...see if he can point us in a direction you might find desirable."

"OK," Deryck mumbled out as the top of his head fell back against the fence once more.

"And then after that, we still have to be meeting with Kai-Ro later tonight..."

"You mean the real lantern," Deryck jumped himself forward causing the remaining folders to fall of his side towards the others.

"OK look, how many times must I tell you" Kyle threw his hands out with a foot of space between the outstretched palms, "I was the lantern of Earth before...In fact I was the only lantern when I started!" his evident disgust for such notions regarding his inactivity in recent earthly heroics becoming ever more exemplified in his movements, "I was the lantern!" he restated looking away from Deryck pulling his hands down to his hands forming them into fists.

"Still haven't heard of you..."

"I was a lantern before you were even born..." Kyle landed his hands on his waist as an unconvincing grin formed, his eyes however darted away towards the wooden panels of the fencing.

"And now you feel old..."

"Maybe I am," the elder lanterns head nodded off in slight odd rotations. Reforming himself, Kyle began to look across the dirty streets, "let's get out of the place, I'm starting to recognize the source of your criticisms."

"Yes," Deryck responded slowly and sheepishly as he pulled up the file folders placing them back into a coherent pile.

* * *

"Kyle, where are we going?" Deryck clutched the large bundle to his chest.

"You've really taken to this flying ordeal," Kyle responded with some enthusiasm looking back at his new lagging colleague. The two ring wielding lanterns had taken to the air and were passing through the clear skies above the concrete jungle below and on occasion coming into contact with the higher buildings which immediately echoed their appearance in their glass surfaces, "sure you don't want me to keep a hold onto those files for you?"

"Yeah...I mean no," Deryck moaned. He kept his legs apart ever so slightly as he continued to propel forward at a steady pace upward towards the elder lantern, "I'm not having any balancing issues," he spat out with some disgust, "it just kind of seems to come natural now..." he slowed in his voice as he looked below at the incredible distance. The high hanging sun shared the world below them, the intricate black strong streets and their sidings which contained the near free roaming hovering vehicles, and the sidewalks that allowed for the civilians of different classes walk in peace from the rumbling beside them, "this is a much more 'advanced' part of the world?" he stressed out with uncertainty.

"It's a lot different from Hub City isn't it?" Kyle responded. His arms sprawled out and his toes curled downward as he too took to a steady pace upward to the clear blue skies, "it's clean..." he muttered to himself, "I love it."

"Kind of creepy," Deryck's eyes seemed to grow under his mask as he continued to examine the floor, "there all staring up at us...they're stopping and starting," his pace of flight began to swell to a stop as he began to feel uncomfortable despite his immense power.

"Yes," Kyle firmly responded before taking a deep breath, "took me some time to understand that kind of reception..." he looked down and let himself exhale, "take it while you can, it doesn't last for long...and it's not always like this elsewhere..."

"Are we there yet?" Deryck questioned as he picked up a decent pace working his way to come on to par with Kyle.

"We're not going to start that are we?" Kyle let out a short held laugh.

"As much as this flying thing is fun and everything," Deryck pulled his chin to his chest looking away from Kyle, "but I feel really stuffy up here for some reason...like I'm not feeling any of the air or anything and I must be travelling pretty fast...am I doing it wrong?"

"Fortunately, no..." the response came but Kyle continued to aim himself forward, "the ring automates your air supply when its surrounds you entirely...if you didn't have that you'd have passed out already up here and plummet..." Kyle through his strong right arm down as if to signify the impending death below.

"So, when I lose this thing...I'm not going to want it to be when I'm flying."

"As it is...no."

"Well, then if you're completely interested," Kyle finally twisted his neck to look back at Deryck, "we're almost there, it's just below now..."

"Wait, I know this place..." Deryck immediately took a dive downward heading towards the Earth as Kyle, with a smile sprouting, darted in the same direction towards him.

Below the glowing green shapes was the cleanest green ground in a wealth of the cold buildings, above which sat in place a scenic building that was the Justice League's ground headquarters of this region. It horseshoe design wrapped around the extent of the grounds and reached three stories high save for the ending two points with rose into tall multi-panneled cobalt blue towers that curved and stretched out from the back and slanted on the ends facing outwards that soaked the sun's rays effectively. A near dozen white classical pillars stretched across the centre piece upholding the the arched roof carved of stoned but as in accordance with the towers, it had above it the familiar sun bent panels.

Deryck came to a shoddy landing scraping along the blades of grass allowing for the friction to take hold before reaching the dug in stone pathways. He worked up an open smile but kept his arms clutched to the folders as he slowly turned around in a circle examining the inner sides of the structure and the gardens with their various plant life both earthly and foreign, "The Justice League Headquarters..." he giggled a bit as he watched Kyle land nearby but with the much desirable experience.

"This is just one of the many offices throughout the world..."

"Still..." he turned to look through the pillars at the electronic glass doors just waiting to open when he drew near, "we always feared this place...but now I have a free pass to get up close...and maybe go in?" he turned back to kyle and lowered his head keeping a suspicious smile.

"What do you mean?" The elder lantern raised his chin and looked back with a counter stare.

"We're going inside right?"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking," Kyle's head fell and he crossed his hands across his chest and shook out his right leg, "but that's just the civilian branch, all the real work is..." he tilted his head with a curved smile as he pointed down to the ground, "underground."

"Well that hurts," Deryck spat back in momentary disgust, "you got your prisons down there also hero?"

"Alright, Manhunter?" Kyle held a black rectangular device to his ear, "we're here..."

* * *

The strip of light shot up vertically between the door panels which proceeded to stutter somewhat as they opened, "wasn't there a more scenic root?" Deryck, having dropped the emerald energy field, called out with anger, "you know some place that wasn't just a bunch of doors and empty hallways?"

"I'm glad you loved it so much, everyone's childhood dream," the likewise depowered Kyle responded with the absolutist form of sarcasm he enjoyed.

The two entered a rather deeply blue tinted room that was more vertical than square despite the square panels that decorated along the floor. The leftist most side of the room was completely empty in line with the hallways that they had passed coming in but to the right was an unusual contraption, a rectangular platform that was raised upward a near metre and possessed above it a large neck groping chair which sat upon a pipe that jutted up from the platform. Ahead of this arrangement was a large monitor screen that extended near wall size and seemingly curved at the edges, upon the screen however appeared smaller monitors along the sides all displaying natural fires and human caused events that sought out attention and gained so from various new-stations that neither of the two recognized.

"It is excellent to see you back on earth Mr. Rayner," a light commanding voice boomed down to them from the region of the monitor. Deryck watched with some intense curiosity as he saw black clad legs drop at the front of the chair and landed squarely on the floor.

"Thanks," Kyle responded firmly conveying a seriousness, "I was hoping to retire here at some point, this boy might give me the chance to sort some affairs..."

"What am I your pawn?" Deryck looked up bending his elbows so that his hands faced outward on his waists.

"What did I tell you about talking?" Kyle returned the look and the posture but kept his voice lower.

"I know of what you speak," the voice returned, "and of it I have found within myself some great interest...especially in your new friend..." Deryck and Kyle looked up at the chair as it began to swivel on the single pipe that kept it upright, "your investigation...I am quite relaxed now that you have taken it upon yourself..." the chair came to a stop so that the martian faced both of them down, "I believe your experience will come in quite applicable to the matters I have learnt of..."

"But he's..." Deryck's breaths became shallow and quite loud but became permanently stopped when Kyle threw the back of his hand into folders producing a loud thump that echoed in throughout the room.

"Does my appearance...frighten you?" The martian rose, the light ones of the blue lighting glancing upon his body revealing every detail backed behind a blue cape. The black tight suit reached down from the soles of his feet up to his neck and cut off at his shoulders, a red cross of fabric stretched upon his chest, sewn in place, and rode down near to his waist whereas the tops reached disappeared behind the blue cape that extended upward around his neck and down just short of his feet; yellow buckles held the cape tightly to the red straps. His fingers were long and seemed to possess dagger like apparatus on each tip though they blended so well with his skin tones; likewise, his eyes were red and menacing with a forehead that had three noticeable angles heading behind him like spikes. The colour of his skin was a pale white.

Kyle shot down a glare at Deryck whom immediately picked up on it, "No..." the boy shot out quickly in a barely audible tone.

"I believe those are the files that The Question asked for to be delivered," the Martian raised out his sharp hand as he said so but Deryck became quite fascinated with the jagged teeth of the Martian who stood above them. After a moment's pause and rapid blinking on the part of Deryck, he stepped forward a few paces and knelt down leaving the folders on the ground. With a small smile he looked up at the Martian and proceeded to fall back in line with Kyle whom had already let out a sigh at the incident that had just unfolded in front of him, "very well, I shall retrieve them on my own strength."

"So..." Kyle began once more in his firm tone, "what have you got on this fair ground, alien refugee camp was it?"

"In a manner of speaking," the Martian placed his hands behind his back and grasped them together creating folds within the cape, "the league had come into contact with a perform and business man whom called himself the Councillor...his home world had been consumed by war and he desired a safe haven from it, we were willing to oblige and there was an easy agreement that he, along with whatever staff he acquired, would keep quiet about their workings as beings from other worlds...most of whom had experienced wars like he had..." Deryck nodded his head in affirmation thinking back to the conversations he had with Gary and Kindred Emma.

"Well, there had to be some issue...?" Kyle continued.

"Indeed, following their acquired status on Earth, they experienced an influx of momentary gains...sums I have only been learning of in recent activities. You must understand that it was a business venture and a haven for these beings, it was not to be of league business unless that strict private policy was obstructed," Kyle nodded, "it's a far bit outside what any other fair would have achieved in decade, yet they had managed to do so in a six months..."

"But what of the files?"

"When the Question had notified me of the disappearance...since it's become apparent he knows all happenings within his city...I had noticed that a lower frequency hacking device had been implemented on the justice league computers."

"Did you block it?"

"I attempted to do so but only proved partially successful...they managed to delete the individual files on the residence there," the Martians head bowed down, "I have not seen this form of technological abilities since the days of Luthor..." he looked up at them, "it's more likely than not foreign to this planet and no doubt since we become knowledgeable of their existence...they will be more than willing to finish the job."

"OK," Kyle nodded his head while looking from side to side. Deryck looked up at him confused, "why don't we just get some real league members and work out something..."

"That's a negative," the boom of the Martians voice set him in his place, "we don't know the full extent of this oppositions abilities...only myself, the Questions and you two are aware of the happenings at the fairgrounds. If these beings are a strong as I believe them to be currently, then we are in dangers...why else would I have us meet at the centre core of this structure?"

"What about the Question...?" Deryck stated first looking at Kyle and then towards the bemused Martian.

"The Question is a special case...but he has never been shown to be an admirer of digital formats...I sincerely doubt they shall ever find him."

"Yeah, dudes weird..." Deryck jutted in.

"While sophisticated," the martian raised the index finger of his right hand, "I've managed to work my way back into their system and have obtained an address...its probably just their computer resource block, regardless I'd like for this particular operation to be halted and properly investigated lest they attempt to break in again for whatever reason."

"No," Deryck stepped forward and asserted himself, "I want the guy behind all this...I don't want to be running your JLA errands...no matter how schway they are...give us something to actually work with!"

"Perhaps that time will come," the Martians stare caused Deryck to fall back his two paces, "but the process is rife with difficulties and steps, your objective can only be achieved if we work together and this task is quite high at hand."

"What?" Deryck hunched his shoulder and opened his eyes wide.

"He'll scratch our back," Kyle turned to respond, "if we scratch his..."

"What?"

"We'll investigate it Manhunter," Kyle refocused on the figure, "and remove whatever we find to be endangering to league security."

"Excellent," The Martian pulled his arms back behind his back causing the cape to rattle, "I'll have the coordinates sent to your communicator, keep me posted on your status."

"Very well."

* * *

"He's a white martian!" Deryck exclaimed. He kept his hands forward and his legs tightly bound together as he propelled forward towards the blue sky and above the dominant steel structures that obstructed his complete vision of the jungle.

"You have an issue with that?" Kyle grew on par with the younger lantern and formed a similar posture.

"Yeah," Deryck looked back to Kyle and nodded his head rapidly, "even I know what they are, they're a bunch of killers...!" his open hands formed into fists.

"I agree with you as much on that," Kyle responded lightly, "but not all of them ended up like that, the Manhunter was a student of a Green Martian who taught a more peaceful aspect of the world...but I suppose now you realize why he doesn't go out much...the reaction you gave him...it's frightening to him just as it is to you..."

"Yeah, but I don't have this history as being humanities tormentor..."

"Sure you do..." Kyle nodded as he took the lead, "species wise, I'm more certain that humanity has caused its own greatest atrocities."

"He's a shape-shifter though...why doesn't he just assume a more...pleasant form?"

"I don't know..."

"So...where is this place?" Deryck questioned as he pulled his hands to his chest and covered himself, "this flight got boring five minutes ago."

"It's just further down the coast," Kyle raised his left hand and motioned it towards the coastal regions to the east of them, "Manhunter's map says it's some sort of business depot, rooms probably rented out to them."

"Any chance we'll encounter something to punch into the ground?" Deryck smiled his light delightful tune pulling his hands into fists and throwing them out ahead of him.

"It's just computers..." Kyle returned his dry sentiment, "let's not give our hopes up."

On the dirty coasts of the eastern seaboard, tall rectangular buildings stretched out over the horizon all neatly packaged and surrounded by the mixing parking floors which carried a large assortment of crafts. The shinning men came to a resounding stop at the edge of one particular building that stood out among the rest for the window angular panels on its broadest sides were deeply hued dark and only served to reflect a disturbed image of them as they floated near to it. It was not much of the towering structure, but was shaped in such a way that unlike the straight paths of the other buildings made along the coast, it was crooked with one smaller end faced outward towards the sea at the slightest.

"This the place?" Deryck turned his head to the lantern as they hovered to the sixth floor up, just three short of the stocky roof.

"It would appear so," Kyle responded taking a quick glance at the rectangular device in his right palm, "time we took a direct approach," he leaned his head forward as his body contorted into a running pace on air.

"What?" Deryck froze up as he allowed himself to float some distance away from the unusual posture of his fellow lantern.

With barely a moment's peace, Kyle ring hand began to glow exponentially as he pulled it back behind the bulk of his body. Soon, large block like appendages grew out from the glow and stretched out and flowed back down into a large fist. With lightning speed, the established lantern lunged forward with his magical fist crackling hard into the tinted glass producing the loudest of obnoxious noises as the metal and glass began to quickly deform, crack, shatter and fade away all around the extended fist dropping with the force of gravity revealing a hole broken through from floor to ceiling. Kyle recoiled his hands as Deryck watched with interest as the fist dissipated in simple contours and lines before disappearing completely upon his hand forming a cup around his waist. Kyle raised his back and nodded his head but kept his focus on the happenings indoors.

Deryck quickly floated over to the hole and tipped his head in slightly to take a look in. He curled his free fingers around the sharpened edges of the broken glass feeling the thick quarter inch panel as he pulled himself in free floating in space, "what's going on here?" he paused to question letting his jaw drop in awe of what lay before him.

Save for this window side, the walls, floor and ceiling were decorated with thick foot thick black wires that organized themselves along one another as straight rows thereby preventing the ascertaining of any coherent end or beginning. Disrupting these flows however were four raised silver rectangular boxes that reached halfway up from the floor causing the wires to be piled upon one another in their curvy pattern.

"Well, someone's been hard at work here..." Kyle commented as he placed his hand upon the edge and pulled himself forward within the room, "wonder how this works?" he quietly pondered to himself as he allowed his feet to drop to the ground and find supports on three of the thick wires that cascaded lengthwise along the floor, "someone should have noticed something, this being installed...someone should have got concerned," he spoke up as he turned to watch his young companion hop in.

"Well, come on," Deryck retorted quickly, "let's do whatever here and get moving on with the important matters."

"I don't even know where to start..." Kyle continued. The elder lantern bent his knees crouching to the floor allowing for a more careful examination of the floor. He placed his hands on the wire ahead of him and attempted to raise it through force but found himself to experiencing some great difficulty in doing so.

"Let's do it," Deryck quickly came to complain, "lets whip up some magic scissors and start cutting this stuff hard." The young man clenched his teeth down and pulled up his ring hand in a fist and concentrated upon it forcing out of it a strong celestial glow and overwhelmed his hand and shot out two beam of light which circled around each other awkwardly before forming circular handles that extended in metre long angular blades that held themselves quite closely by reason of a green bolt. His breath dropped heavily as the formation of scissors became evident.

"No," Kyle immediately rose and he turned around but he found himself too late as Deryck had immediately set the tips of the blades to the wire based surface and began to puncture. Without much of a warning available, Deryck felt a strange force hit his outer emerald shield forcing his head back resulting in the loss of control of the scissors which immediately ceased to be. His back arched and his legs jolted upward as he fell from the building above. In split seconds his head twisted and turned looking down to a impossibly hard landing and upward again at a black humanoid figure whom had wrapped the straight edges of its hands upon his neck but failed to puncture through the hard shield to get to this soft human flesh.

Kyle forced himself to turn on the dime as he quickly attempted to shout out the boy's name only to come into contact with a similar tall muscular black entity that seemingly rose up from the ground to contest Kyle's appearance in their dwelling. It raised its harms and opened its hands stammering its feet into the ground, one slightly forward ahead of itself. Kyle immediately produced a circular shield from his ring as the entity crashed into him fists ahead. Preparing itself effectively it began to punch rapidly and Kyle took the steps back, steadying himself for the many blows that came his way. Rather than waste his time however, he took to the production of a short sword for his opposing hand and immediately began thrashing out the bundles of wires below his awkward footing. At first cut, he found himself puzzled by the entities sudden panic attach, pulling its hands to its head and dropping to one knee, "You don't like that much do you?" Kyle strut out forcing the sword upon the ground touching the thick wires enough to cause punctures along the surface, "no intelligence then I guess?" he questioned himself at the realization of the fictitious nature of the entities.

Deryck free fell to the earth feeling the force of his enemies hand against his head pushing him further down. Though time seemed to freeze all around him, Deryck could not muster the strength, the will power, to save himself but his inaction was quickly compensated for the force that secured and cradled his body mere feet from the hardened ground. Deryck felt around this saving device soaking into the wide assortment of identical springs that formed a mattress of comfort. He let his head lay limp and became fully indulged in its safety as the force above him continued to pummel him down. Moving his head to the side that sourced this mattress, he looked up to see the one true lantern, hovering down upon him, ring hand forward and ablaze and his legs neatly bent across one another sharing his absolute calmness in battle. In the full black suit with green wrist guards, boots, shoulder tops and the logo largely emblazoned upon his chest, his appearance was found to be inspiring for the Deryck as he felt a second wind come upon him.

A grin crossed over Deryck's face as he felt the minimal force exerted upon began to dissipate. Looking upward, he found the entity to be now clutching its head, in agony but no screams knowledgeable on account of its absence facial patterns. He rapidly placed his hands upon the entity and pulled them away from its head and with a significant force, felt the will power return to him as he used the springs as a suitable source of propulsion pushing first heavily down and catapulting himself and his foe high to the air ahead of the building roof leaving the true lantern, Kai-ro is absolute awe.

Kyle stepped out to the edge of the window he had shattered moments before and saw for a glimpse of a second Deryck pumping upward with his foe quickly losing the traction that kept it humanoid. It was high above the ground, ahead of the tallest reaching buildings in the region, that Deryck began to notice the foe in his hands was seemingly disintegrating. His hands fell through the slimy being and knocked into one another causing Deryck to lose his concentration and stop in his continual ascent.

"I am sure there is a reason for these actions?" Kai-Ro hovered up along the building to come on par with Kyle whom continued to stand at the entrance way, one hand on the edge formed.

"League business," Kyle responded quickly, "the martian sent us."

"But the boy? He is not experience for this kind of conduct..."

Kyle looked across at the Green Lantern but quickly bowed his head, "the boy had been through some ordeals prior to obtaining the ring...the Martian and I were investigating for him..." the glare of the wide eyes lantern was quickly upon him when he raised his head. Kyle attempted to shrug this off, "I've got nothing better to do really till the guardians call upon me...besides," he looked away, up towards Deryck whom was quickly descending, "my original orders were to protect the ring and its development, and the boy has it, perhaps this is the best way to test it."

"If that be your judgement," Kai-Ro's eyes quietly felt to even slants as he placed his strong right hand to under his chin.

"So what's going to happen to me?" Deryck flew down and came to a stop standing on the air like it was ground.

"Come up with me," Kai-Ro, not looking once at either of the lantern near him, began to rise upward towards the roof top which he disappeared over. Deryck nodded across to Kyle and then the both of them quickly followed in pursuit.

Upon the roof, Kai-ro dropped his feet down to a standing posture allowing the aura of emerald energy drop from all around him, he tensed his muscles and soaked in his surroundings feeling the wind around him as he watched across the aching ocean sea as it reflected the closing sun, "it is nice to have you return to earth Kyle after so long a stay abroad, have you made any plans here?"

"I was hoping to retire here at some point..." Kyle commented lightly as he too fell to the top of the roof as a normal being would. Deryck quickly followed suit behind him, "perhaps, Deryck will give me this opportunity to do so." Kai-Ro's head seemed to jerk which was followed by a sudden turn to face the two fellow lanterns, "I'm trying to steal your position here...I'm getting old," Kyle continued and nodded his head appropriately, "I don't want to have to believe that the best way out of this business is to die...sure there's still some good years left in me, but like I've told the guardians...I don't want to spend them guarding borders or fighting questionable conflicts...I want to be able to come home at some point and help the people here...our people."

"Your reasons are perhaps noble," Kai-ro responded in quick tones, "but I do not suppose that is the purpose of the power that the guardians have endowed us with.

"Well, maybe it's time to change."

Kai-Ro bowed his head down and smiled affectionately, "maybe... but of Deryck, he should be properly initiated for the time being...till the guardians are prepared to call upon him...what say you Deryck?" He looked across at Deryck but he was staring off glazed into the watery distance.

"It's great...but will it ever come off?" he continued to stare outward with his question.

Kai-Ro found this response to be most puzzling, "that is very unusual for someone granted such abilities...I do not believe the guardians even have that ability..."

Kyle and Deryck both jumped at the same moment, "what do you mean?" Kyle immediately questioned.

"You should know well, this ring is of a new design, it has a tie to the central battery that not even the guardians found willing to intercept, this is the purpose of the ring...to remain when all has been corrupted."

"Yeah," Kyle jokingly began, "I kind of skimmed over the details..."

"Why have you not taken our emblem young Deryck?" Kai-ro calmly asked the younger lantern, "the ring and you are slated to be together for a long time..."

"I guess I don't really want to be a part of your team..." Deryck responded with a uncertainty in every syllable.

"What concerns have you?"

"From what's happened to me recently, all I can think about revenge..." he looked over at Kai-ro attaining the eye to eye attention he desired, "I'm not exactly the most noble person in the universe, I'll feel I'd only use these abilities to commit acts that I never characterized either of you," he looked to Kyle, "doing...your heroes, I don't think I want... I can't be a part of that...it's not who I am."

"No...I doubt that very much," Kai-Ro firmly responded, "as I have said to you before, I sense within you an iota of good, a light shining amongst the multitudes of darkness..."

"An Iota...?" Deryck felt his body become weak and slump over his ailing legs.

"There is much to learn, there is a way of which we conduct ourselves...you may not understand now but it is for the betterment of the universe that we do so...you have the capability to rise above those feelings and embrace justice just as myself and Kyle has," Kyle shook his head affectionately with a smile which got Deryck racing through his mind rapidly, "there is an oath that we take, one that grants us our power and assures the will of our beings...your reluctance does not go unheard, but consider this option we present you with...don't fulfil the actions of your past, change yourself for the future..."

Deryck looked to his feet examining the shiny glass like strength that surrounded them, "how does it go?" he questioned looking up.

Kai-Ro pulled up his ring hand and proceeded to produce a bubble in the loose circle that they formed. Soon the solid strength of the bubble turned away into a translucent window revealing within it a lantern like the one that he had seen with Kyle a day before. It was glowing at its centre, its smooth edges rising into the circular ends. It hovered there between them, "In brightest day, in blackest night..."


	11. Nightwing 4

Nightwing #4  
Volume 1. Story 3.  
The Lost Boy

_Chronology:__  
Pre-Young Justice #1_

* * *

Two sets of feet in dark leather boots stamp across the thin blue carpeted floor, "so what happened here," a growling voice moaned outward followed by a deep ridden cough.

"Financial mogul Leonard Flossman," a lighter and much cleaner voice responded, "kills self, age 58..." the voice hummed off. The man stepped towards the centre of the office on the end facing outward which was primarily dominated by a gaping hole with its edges being dominated by crushed glass that bowed outward. He was a tall fellow whom wore a tight dark grey trench coat over top of a more standardized black uniform. His hair was fair and straight, eyes holding a slate colouration, with a square edged jaw but possessed a crooked smile that sat above his bold chin thereby revealing his empty state of moral consciousness over the poor situation that had unfolded.

A larger bulky individual appeared behind him wearing a tighter form fitting black jacket that held in his girth. Octagonal decals were held on his shoulders and a similar flat form on his upper right portion of his chest which had emblazoned within it 'GCP'. His hair was curly but tight to his scalp, wrinkles pervades the portions under his eyes sharing his experience to anyone whom would lock on to him. At varying times a small cough would arise within him causing his sausage like fingers to reach to his chest to seemingly assist in bearing the pain, "it's very unfortunate really, he was good a man."

"So I've heard," the sharp voice of youth responded. The detective dropped down to one knee and looked down over the edge of the building's floor examining the cement curb near twenty stories down. The attitude that contributed to smile quickly dissipated when he saw the sight of a city worker, decked down in orange overalls and headpiece, scrap away at the blood with a high pressured hose. "Jumper for sure then?"

"Jumper, no doubt about it..."

"Alright then, let your men do what they do best then..." the detective rose allowing for his jacket to regain form around his tall muscular shape. He patted down the bubbles that flowed upward through his jacket, "I've got some other business I need to be taking care of..." he proceeded to take steps away from the jumper's hole heading to the door on the opposing end, "let me know if anything changes..."

The hard leather boots took to their steps trudging along the floor into the familiar night once more; however, they did not leave unwatched. A small circular head with curved back bat like ears appeared in the hole and as quickly as it had appeared, a darkened humanoid shape grasped onto the glass becoming a distorted shadow in the broken glue bits. "Pretty hard glass for an older person to break..." a grey gloved hand appeared and touched along the small inner surface where the glass fell through, "same window structure they use at Wayne Tower...no way a man forcibly breaks his way through it." The hands of the outside being clenched down tight on the edge of window and proceeded to form an act of motion that shot its body forward followed by an instantaneous swivelling of its legs around aimed towards the inside of the window. The being flung itself inward with the momentum attained and landed on the along the floor that was exposed to the spattering shine of the moonlight. When the body pulled up to its full extent, the being bent its knees and examined the flooring with all his senses; Nightwing was on the crime scene.

"No, hold on a second..." Nightwing tapped his right index finger against his chin while his shoulder began to slump. The rounding fabrics that hung loose over his ankles made the appearance of slight moments up and down, "this was in a movie...someone should be leaving me a hologram telling me how to solve the mystery..." He momentarily froze before allowing for the small meagre steps to take a close examination of the room. Foot depth silver counters stood across the wall firmly connected at all corners with the only interrupts made for the fogged glass door and the windows that comprised the outer wall. A single old oak desk stood horizontally to his left and a few slight feet from the wall, it was cleaned off of all materials with the only notable feature being the primitive swivel chair with the light and dark blue checkered lined cushioning that would reach to the top of the average man's neck. The walls were a pale red and completely bare. "For a rich guy, he's sure pretty poor when it comes to hiring an interior decorator."

"I'd suggest that whatever is of value, and what would normally be on display, is well hidden elsewhere...besides it's not like he used this office for much anything else but sitting around or interviewing people..."

"Well, he can't do that now..." Nightwing took paces towards the desks; hands outstretched forward awaiting the sensational touch with the fine oak top, "he's dead now." The young here placed his open palms on the desk top allowing for the metal bands that following up his arms to touch it also. Dropping his right hand from the connection, he circled around the desk leaving his left to drag along, "something shiny..." he muttered to himself as he stared intently on the glow of the moonlight upon the desk. On the opposing side of the desk that had an opening for the chair were a series of drawers down on either side. The boy's eyes went wide as he dropped to his knees and proceeded to pick away at the small circular locks on each drawer breaking inside.

"What are you doing?"

"Ah..." he stuttered as he attempted to break into the final big one at the bottom, "looking for evidence," he spat out quickly when the lock gave way giving realization to the contents within. His hands shuffled down to the deep crevice of the drawer but could find only the pockets of air that had formed there from years of captivity, "nothing...there's always diamonds somewhere or some sort of expensive hobby..." he began rambling in mumbled hushed tones to himself.

"Nightwing?"

"Oh yeah," he let out small conceited laugh and attempted to restrain himself as he rose to a full upright position. His head tilted to his left shoulder and looked into the distant frame of the office where the silver lining all around still continued to give off its magnificent reflection in the moonlight, but something wasn't quite right; a small circular gold shape was also shining its reflective attitude while standing slightly raised above the floor. With the gawking expression forming, he tiptoed around the desk and gradually crouched down as he drew closer to the apparent item in question, "I see something..."

"What is it?"

"I don't know..." lower and lower Nightwing's body declined making his arms appear more gangly but nonetheless ripe with strength as they raised at the elbows prepared to pounce upon the golden item, "it's moving a little..." he observed a few paces way, "I'm going to pounce on it..." with a grin firmly placed upon his face, the hero curved down his knees and pressed them forward with a jerking motion raising himself upward a small distance and leading him forward towards the gold item which he immediately clawed at with both his hands. A loud thump became audible when his body hit the ground.

"What is it?...Nightwing are you Alright? Nightwing?"

"Kitty!" A shout of excitement broke the silence. Nightwing pulled himself together and stood up keeping a tight bundle of fur within his arms. Turning to the broken window for proper lighting, he found within his hands a largish orange tabby designed cat which hummed a small purr that echoed a relaxing feeling though out his arms. The boy curved his head around the cat and looked at its face attaining contact with its bright green eyes; sadness was apparent in the cats face and Nightwing was just beginning to understand why, "kind of a thick collar there boy," he smoothed his hand around the thick quarter-inch blue collar that ran around the cats neck and held the golden circular piece below its neck, "he must have been a good owner...but don't worry," Nightwing's voice grew stern, "we're going to find whomever did this to him."

"We still haven't proven that anyone has...have you found any evidence there to suggest that someone had?"

"Not exactly..." Nightwing goose stepped his way to the window with the cat still firmly in his arms, "but someone like Mr. Flossman...I just don't see it happening...good people don't do this...not in this world!" His voice grew in sternness and developed with incredible certainty, "He's done some good things...someone had to have benefited from his death...someone wanted him dead..." he leaned slightly over the edge and looked down at the city cleaner as he packed away the power washer into its long plastic casing, "that someone has succeeded."

"You're jumping to conclusions again."

"Look, I'm trying to have a serious moment here."

* * *

Todd, now wearing his standard uniform that consisted of a white collared shirt, black thigh biting vest and dark smooth dress pants, stepped into the kitchen shaking his head allowing for the perfect black hair that he loved to grace the rays of sunlight that were shone through the kitchen window, "It's a great day for America..." he cheerfully stated as he paced towards the production half of the kitchen noting the typical oven and sink on adjacent walls, only this time he was quick to notice the assortment of plates and pots that hung over the over and within the deep basin of the metallic sink. He paused in his steps as he analyzed the dirty details of the tiring job that was kitchen work and questioned to himself whom would have committed themselves, "but not such a good day for the kitchen staff..." He reached upward to the cabinet above the counter on the opposing end of the stove and produced a decently sized white bowl from its wooden confines. With the addition of milk from the fridge and cereal found in the cupboard beside the fridge, Todd had constructed himself a bowl of cereal which he munched down on at five second intervals as he stepped towards the inner dining area towards the entertainment room where he swore he could hear audible voices in the distance.

Passing the six capable seats of the medium sized dining table, Todd passed down the plateau he was upon and noticed in the short distance away the top of Cassie short blond haired head sitting on the puffy green couch aimed towards the large wall television screen which shared with the viewer the news for the day in its pristine quality. Todd came to stand behind her and examined her hands which held a small white plate with half a dozen double chocolate cookies. Her free hand was prepared to grab hold of one but her vision and her attention on the news story at hand prevented such an interaction, "what's this all about?"

"A business man...a charitable man...took his own life early this morning..." Cassie continued to stare forward with slightly moisture eyes and sullen features.

"Oh," Todd nodded his head temporarily stopping his cereal biting activities.

"I'm just in complete shock," Cassie momentarily spoke. Her head shook from side to side, "I don't like how such good people go in such shameful ways, Mr. Flossman was a notable exception to the corruption in our business institutions."

"What did he do?"

"Charity mostly in his later years," Cassie's head tilted, "he started quite a few business that gave jobs to thousands of people...his last charity was to give millions to the Gotham Children's Hospital...but now," she let out a heavy sigh, "his assets are going to be distributed to his business partners...his last and greatest contribution," she froze to a suspicious stare and tone, "prevented by his death..." she finished with slow syllables.

"What's with the mess in the kitchen?" Todd quickly interjected slamming the back of his hands against the top of the couch causing some milk extracts to jump sporadically in a two fit radius hitting Cassie across her facing cheek knocking her out of her in depth thought process.

"I started cooking again," Cassie turned her head to Todd and smiled politely.

"Seems a bit large for, ah, your cookies there."

Cassie looked down at her plate and returned back to looking at Todd immediately afterwards, "I've had very limited success...but I kind of like it," her head bobbled around on her shoulders. She pulled up the plate and allowed for Todd to eagerly reach down and pick one from the group, "you've given me a reason to start eating more home bound meals," she slumped back down her seat facing the television screen, "no more frozen dinners or fast food..."

"I bet..." Todd reached to the crevices of his voice to politely respond. He clenched his stomach as he mowed down the cookie and swallowed its bites poorly. His eyes kept to a wide opening as he allowed himself to step backward slowly.

"I've got something I have to go do...on my own...so I'll be back in a few hours."

"Alright," Todd nodded his head in affirmation as he continued to step backward.

"No debate?" Cassie quickly spat out.

"I've got my job to be doing..." Todd continued to trace his steps leaving his bowl on the counter in the kitchen area, then backing out of it and hurriedly turning to his front side to hurriedly rush up the nearby stairs just outside the kitchen entrance way and made his way to the end of the hallway tapping onto the door leading into his room.

It was a delightful mess that Todd had cultured in his new room, not even two weeks had passed and clothes and various items of interest to the bat clan had already formed into piles leaving only small gaps for which to step in. He embraced the edge of his cluttered desk on the other side of the room and hurriedly ran his fingers through an assortment of paper depicting drawings of various people and beings which he found himself not being able to reminisce taking the pencil to them for he had found a particular small rectangular device which he quickly pulled up and tapped upon the single screen panel. Instantly, the logo of Nightwing embraced the entirety of the screen before dissipating two seconds later into a list of names, the top being listed as 'Proxy'. He clicked down on it, highlighting it blue, and proceeded to pull the device to his ear, "Proxy, you find anything out about Flossman?"

"With the exception that his will provides for the division of his assets to his partners?"

"Yeah," he coughed briefly, "I was just pointed out to something being on the news...turns out Flossman's last act would have placed-"

"The majority of his stock in the Children's Hospital's Donation fund."

"Good, we're on the same page. So there we go," Todd used his free hand to hit the side of his leg, "we have a motive, let's piece the facts together and get some results."

"OK."

"Who are the partners that profit from this, and would otherwise be broke by this 'donation'?"

"That's generally anyone attached to his financial businesses."

"Well can we narrow it down?"

"Indeed, I've gotten five hits."

"Which one is of the most interest?"

"Abe Ackerman, he was an associate up until last month. He's been accused of embezzling company funds on several occasion in the past, never convicted conclusively, but seems to have evened off when Flossman offered him a position in his firm...probably still has his underground connections and would have been more than upset if and when he found out about Flossman's drastic final act."

"Excellent, let's check it out."

"Are you dressed?"

Todd patted down his Nightwing uniform extending the falcon double beak logo and arranging the top of his pants so the legs produced a comfortable arrangement. He flipped off the phone and pulled up the cowl, shaking his head allowing the armour like fabric to balance out. The eye slit lit up white as a short hum started up, "I'm good to go," he suddenly crouched down and looked across the room at a loose blue sweater that seemed to squirm, "Kitty!" he shouted followed by his stamping hard against his flooring to reach out towards the tubby tabby orange cat which made itself present popping through the head space of the sweater.

"You kept the cat?"

"It had no one else to go," his voice fluttered up to a high pitch and bubbly, "and he's so cute..." he grasped it up with his large glove hands and pulled it up close to his chest and head which he tipped down to his chest and nestled into the cats fur feeling its soft purr, "I love you..." he whispered softly into the cats ear.

"You can't keep the cat..."

"Why not?" he raised his head straight confusing the cat in his hands as to where its comfort went.

"It's not yours."

"But," Nightwing's eyes seemed to tear up over his mask, "his owner is gone...he's all alone..."

"I'm not living with it...you should talk to Cassie before you do anything rash with it...does it even have a name?"

"I don't know," Nightwing placed the fingers of his right hand around the thick blue colour feeling down along its perimeter till it reached the gold coated circle, "just says he was owned by Flossman...guess I'll get to choose it..." his eyes widened dropping the sympathetic sting, "something big and menacing...a Super Kitty...I can make it!" he smiled quickly and leaned his head back down to nestle back into the cats head which looked upon him with its bright green eyes, "I want to love him, and please him, and give him so much food..."

"There's a lot of work that goes into taking care of a pet, are you really up to it?"

Nightwing raised the cat above his head reinterpreting the scenic view of the lion cub's birth within the privacy of his room "You know, if Diana is wrong about all this afterlife stuff and instead we come back in a new form...I want to come back as a cat...they get to sleep, eat and poop anywhere they want and get away with their cuteness," his voice raised upward and gargled in excitement.

"So not much change from this current life then?"

"You'd take care of me right? If I came back as a cat?" Nightwing proceeded to question but was met with a pause that nearly reached the thirty second mark.

"I have an allergy to cats."

"But, you'd take care of me anyway?"

"OK, if you want to pursue this case we should start talking further about a course of action..."

"I'm not going anywhere till you give me an honest answer!" Nightwing stamped his right foot into the ground causing some shaking tendency in the cat which proceeded to lick its lips and raise its neck.

"Why wouldn't Cassie? Have you told her about your new friend?"

"I don't know if I should," he wobbled his head a bit attempting to regain the cat's attention. He kept his left hand on the back side of the cat's neck and pet it lightly.

"I've got the coordinates to Ackerman's office in the blue bird...you should start moving if you want to believe there's something in it worth our time and effort."

"Alright..." Nightwing responded with a heavy heart. With a smile, he placed the cat on the floor and looked upon it while releasing a deep felt sigh. He then raised his clasped palms to one side of his face, "goodbye super kitty...I'll be back soon!"

* * *

"There's a Cassie Sandsmark here to see you sir," a toneless voice arrived from the stone faced gentleman popping through the automatic sliding glass doors at the back of the long office space. The floor had a crisp silver appearance that shined in reflection of the sun that panned through the room from the windows that comprised the wall at the front of the office space. The walls were tinted a metallic blue and produced a curved wavy pattern with the largest of these protrusions being at the frontward end a few paces short of the windows. The messenger man, an assistant of sorts, was young but nonetheless appeared to have a cold exterior that came to a head in the solid black suit that he wore so fashionably. He stepped backward slightly towards the doors allowing for their magical opening.

"Huh," a deep voice came in response, "let her in..."

"Yes Mr. Luthor..." the assistant responded short to his boss as he bent his back slightly and backed away through the door.

The tall and slender Cassie stepped beside the assistant turning slightly to look at him in a form of shock as she made her presence firm within the office space, stepping ever so strongly to produce a indented thump, "I saw you on the news today," she raised her head and took a breath to relieve some of the tension that had building up in her since this morning, "Leonard Flossman had a good heart, how could you Conner?"

A taller person, one with strength only comparable to Superman himself, stepped forward from the single utility glass desk breaching into the gap that stood between himself and Cassie. His slate blue eyes, the short black hair, and the ever so innocent smile revealed him as a part of the collective of special individuals determined to save the world from the enemies known and unknown; however Cassie could see this, she saw right through him, all that was before her was this man, her former lover, in a three piece white suit with fisticuffs worth thousands, "You presume that I had something to do with his recent demise?"

"Well, you use the words," she spat back with a form of serious sarcasm she rarely allowed herself to approach.

Conner took a deep breath which lead to the slumping of his shoulders, "what would have to gain from his death?" he calmly questioned as he paused in his steps forcing the stare down to exist within two metres of one another.

"You were a part of his partners...I've seen the news, we all know what he was doing. You were going to lose a lot of money because of him...and now with his death you become that much more richer."

"I'm afraid you're misinformed, I plan to give my earnings to the charity fund...all in good nature of course."

"All of it?" Cassie crossed her arms against her chest. Her head raised and her eyes narrowed down, she looked upon Conner which such disgusted when he acted in a manner that showed him to be appalled at the very notion.

"It's a lot of money," he knelt his head when he spoke solemnly. He turned slightly to his left before raising his head again, "I'm sure even a fraction of that would please the charity workers?" he motioned to look at her, "don't you think?"

"Why do you need more money?" Cassie questioned still attempting to hold her anger within, "You still funding Tim?"

"Why does he have to come up every time we see each other?" Conner spat out in disgust relinquishing the solemn tone and mannerisms.

"He's got a pretty tight leash around you, doesn't he?" Cassie voice lingered to a slow finish.

"Tim and I, we have a friendship based upon our common ideals...no one's using anyone...it's you that wanted to break up what good we could all have done if we had stayed together...worked together."

"There was never anything good in what he was talking about...and what he was planning," Cassie shook her head in disapproval as she took steps forward towards the ailing Conner whom placed the fingers of his right hand to his lowered forehead, "all these years and you still can't see that? Why do you think the league fears him so much? Fear what you're becoming under his influence?"

"They just don't understand his methodology, what he's doing for this world..."

"Yeah that's it," Cassie said sarcastically as she turned stepping away from him instead, "a few dead bodies here and there and the world becomes all that more easier for us simple people to live in...You know, so long as all listen to what he wants from us."

"Ah come on Cassie," he breathed out softly, " you know him as well as I do," Conner raised his head and shook his hands out from his body, "he would never do anything like that, that's not the world he's trying to create."

"And yet every time I see you, the words that you speak, I see his puppet strings attached to every facet of your body."

"We're partners..." Conner leaned his upper body towards her but was unable to look at her directly, he turned away from her and stepped closer to the windows watching the sun shine its majestic tone upon him, "I have faith in him, he needs friends as much as any of us..."

"I better shut up then, never know which one of them could be listening."

"I didn't have Mr. Flossman killed," Conner lightly stated but continued to look out towards the sun, the source of his power, "believe what you will of me today, but I do believe he was doing well for this world, for all its people..."

"But some people would have wanted to have him killed..."

"No..." Conner whispered lightly, "I didn't want him dead, I just wanted him out the way...all this 'good' business was taking quite a toll on this corporation, but no, I didn't want him dead..." he turned his head to look at Cassie once more, the moisture clouding his eyes lightly at the bottom, "I just wanted him out of the way."

"Then who?" Cassie stepped forward asserting herself strongly, "Who would have wanted to see him dead?"

"Any one of the primary partners...we knew of his plans, we all had something to lose had his big deal made it through. He owned a lot of assets, none of which any of has had the ability to out vote..."

"I want a working up on all those members."

"Haven't you considered though," he looked upon her sympathetically, "that he may just not have wanted to be alive at all?"

* * *

"Well, most of the business he ran...well as an economist...I get some of them," a man of exquisite simplicity spoke eloquently of the situation unfolding around him and his associates. His light brown hair tapered off at the centre of his head but kept well comb nonetheless with the gleam of his hazel eyes sharing an aged experience look which he hoped to support through the small wrinkles that had managed to creep upon his face. A thick jaw line that squared off and shoulders that stretched out significantly from his neck all while keeping himself of a small height, he was quite the enforcer in his youth. He had just entered a similarly designed office of that of Mr. Flossman but certainly had been that much busier in the decoration portion of creating a homely office. Above the silver sidings that protruded outward, the wall was painted in tonal values of auburn and pale yellow which resulted in the drawing of the eye towards the set of four portraits that outline the two broad walls. The desk, a large rectangular glass plate upon a metal holder, sat a mere two metres from the windows that comprised the outer wall but it was not facing the sun relying instead upon the lighting system that ran throughout the entirety of the ceiling above him. He was followed in by two larger muscular gentlemen in dark suits with the standard white collared shirts underneath. Their stone face portrayed not much of themselves save for their static like behaviour; the unwillingness to change from their acquired service. "Anyway," the leading man continued as he circled around the desk. His hands twaddled against the sides of his expensive navy blue suit pants which matched the over jacket that reached well past his waist, "I'll be more rich than I am currently and at the end of the day...that's the bottom line isn't?" He placed his hands on the top of the black swivel chair stationed behind his personalized desk, he leaned forward towards minions exemplifying his ape like mouth, "you guys don't seem to care to much..." he dropped his hands from the chair and took a step back from the chair, "I'm going to be more rich!" his eyes went wide with excitement as his hands jerked out to the side of his body. When no reaction could be found, his eyes fluttered while his shoulder waddled, "you're free to go...do as you please..."

The two limber men in their straight cut black suits nodded at one another, turned their back to their employer and stepped back out through the double doors, "What a world I live in." The high crusted businessman swivelled his body around to face the large tinted windows that faced out into the world where he felt he was finally in command. "What the..." an odd gesture rose upon his face. He looked at the windows on either side of the primary panel he was facing. Black objects had somehow managed to get stuck into them and as he stepped forward and lowered his head he saw that these objects were small boomerang shaped devices with sharp edges on the ends, "what is this?" he questioned seeing the crushing window begin to grow in its immensity. Suddenly, the windows began to crack severely in all directions causing spacious reflections of the out buildings ahead which inevitably ended with the destruction of these panels and inward towards the middle. A popping noise clasp his ears followed by the ripping of a metal cord and without warning a new set of black circular objects moved past him at an incredible speed, fell to the ground, and whipped back to the window clinging to his ankles in the process. Wrapping tightly around his ankles, he felt the pull outward towards the window. Instinctively he raised his arms in front of his face and felt the thickening strength of the cord as his body jerked awkwardly with the tumble outside of the window. "Stop it!" his cry reigned out when his flesh came into contact with outside world. His body slammed against the building and simultaneously pulled up leaving the sweat filled imprints of his face and hands upon the panels. He suddenly came to a stop with his forehead on the edge of the building top.

"Abe Ackerman," a deep printed voice called down upon him, "we have some details we need to talk about."

"Batman?" He seemed to scream under the whines that accumulated in his throat. His eyes began to water as he saw the zooming across the heated roadways a near forty floors below, "I haven't done anything!" he shouted repeatedly his one sided rant while his body began to waggle on the two lines that acted as the support preventing his plunge to the depths below. His neck stiff, Ackerman still managed to move his neck to look back at the menace that had gotten hold of him by surprise. The blood began to boil at the top of his head but before the weight became too hard for his neck to continue, he got what he desired viewing ahead on the top of the roof a smallish boy figure in tight form fitting Batman-esque armour with the front facing view of a vehicle that spouted two sharp points on the sides and a smooth near flat like windshield hovering slightly above the small figure with tow cables sprouting from the inner hub which he reasonably concluded were attached to his legs, "your just the kid."

"Nightwing..." Nightwing responded sharply. He proceeded to tap his right foot on the ground and cross his arms across his chest, "I just want to ask you some questions about a case I'm working on."

"Was that all very necessary?" Ackerman began to twirl around up in the air tangling the lines. His voice was growing thin with his breath growing shallower in light of the altitude.

"What?" Nightwing complained as he stepped forward to the edge and grabbed hold of the hanging Ackerman whose head was now coming dangerously close to rubbing hard against the tar like roofing.

"You vandalized my office!" He shouted. His fists had clenched and his face began to turn red with anger, "I'll sue you."

"Yes, yes," Nightwing responded casually. He sat down cross legged and pushed Ackerman away from the ledge and smiled as Ackerman reached out through the sky just short of a metre and returning back to the side of the building only to be greeted with Nightwing's eager hands, "I've been told that before," he pushed again. He turned his head to the side of his shoulder to ponder, "in fact I think the big man told me that once too."

"What do you want from me?" Ackerman's voice came through upon the third push, "Why are you doing this?" Ackerman began to spit large amounts of moisture with his eyes now seeming to swell up shut.

"Leonard Flossman!" Nightwing dropped to his right knee and planted his left foot in comfort into the space of roof nearby, "Why did you have him killed?" He straightened himself into a stern voice akin to his dark mentor.

"Flossman?" Ackerman cried out, "I didn't do anything..."

"Don't lie to me, I'll drop you," Nightwing looked upward momentarily to the Blue Bird hovering lightly above him with the cords extending outward at full strength.

"I don't have to tell you anything!" Ackerman cried out with a sore dry voice.

"Fine!" Nightwing tapped a square part on his belt and instantly the cords lightened a few inches just as he placed his hands on the frigid body of Ackerman's and pushed him outward. Within a few seconds, Ackerman's upper body came into contact with the side of his buildings. A moan of agony spawned from the aftermath of crash as Nightwing tapped the square portion on his belt once more leading to the cords to be pulled back into the Blue Bird, "talk!"

"Why would I want him dead?" Ackerman now seemed to be laughing through tears, "He did everything for me, got me out of a prison sentence...!"

"Give it up!" Nightwing spat out hurriedly, pulling Ackerman up close to his face, "you have everything to gain from his death...good people like Flossman don't just die, you're just the dredge looking for the next scam..."

"I..." Ackerman's deep breaths increased in rate, "I haven't scammed anyone in years...Flossman saved me..."

"And you had him killed?"

"I didn't!" the last shout rang out.

Nightwing bit his bottom lip, "well you better think about giving your share to the charity fund!" Nightwing rose.

"Get me down..." Ackerman came across with a whispered tone.

"Fine!"

* * *

"Nightwing? Was that really necessary...?"

Nightwing began to shake his head nervously to himself. He sat down comfortably in the dark blue chair of The Blue Bird, leaning back up against the back of the seat and outstretched his hands ahead grabbing hold of the open square blocks, the handles that allowed for control of the vessel, "I've always wanted to see if that kidnap manoeuvre worked," he said suspiciously. His hands began to light up in blue share electronic pans as the humming of the ship increased significantly.

"No, you were torturing him."

"No different from what Batman would have done..." Nightwing tried to shrug it off.

"You're not Batman..."

The young hero shut his eyes tightly and thought deeply of his breaths, "you told me he was most likely the one responsible for Flossman's death."

"Yes! So you question him..."

"I wouldn't have got anything if I just walked up and questioned him," Nightwing pulled up his right arm, pulled up a fist and hammered up against the side of the Blue Bird coming in contact with the glass and feeling it crack a small bit, "I had to do what I did to get results..."

"You found no evidence at his Flossman's office; you need to piece some evidence together if you want to believe something happened there. This isn't like Batman to be jumping to conclusions with lack of evidence..."

"You're my enabler..." Nightwing viciously responded.

"I'm only here to help, but sometimes you and your people go a bit too far...especially you youths."

"You have so much experience don't you?" Nightwing sarcastically responded.

"What suddenly come over you?"

"I don't know," Nightwing clasped his arms across his chest, "I guess I just don't understand what's happening here?"

"This seems to happen a lot..."

"Why would someone like Flossman just..." Nightwing's head seemed to rotate lightly, "it's just not logical...right? And Ackerman, he probably doesn't even really care...he just got loaded really fast. There had to be something behind this, someone... we know people made a profit from his death and he just happened to die just before he was able to give a wickedly large amount of sums to a charity."

"Maybe he just forgot."

"No!" Nightwing reaffirmed himself. He placed his hand back onto the handles of the Blue Bird, "I don't buy it!" A moment of silence lapsed, "give me another name...another associate that could have profited from the death of Flossman."

"What are you going to do then?"

"Just enable me OK!"

"I'm putting the coordinates in to the Blue Bird's GPS."

"Oh Him!" Nightwing's finally stepped up his excitement level, "the clone spawn of Superman's greatest failure!...wait," Nightwing dropped his chin to his chest, "why wasn't he at the top of the list..." he began to giggle a little as he raised his head, "he's certainly behind this!"

"Nightwing...he's exactly like anything you've been up against...not like this."

"You're worried I'm going to try and fight him?" Nightwing's voice grew stern with his teeth biting down upon the completion of his last word.

"If you try that stunt you just pulled, you'll get yourself killed."

"Too bad," Nightwing responded and pulled back on the two handles, "I'm the hero here, I'll do it my way and you know...Kitty!" his voice suddenly fluttered upward to a high tone, "ah how did you get in here...?" He pulled his hands immediately from the handles and clasped them tightly on the orange plump of fur that had jumped from behind the seat in the back compartment and landed softly on his lap, "couldn't stand being alone could you?" he leaned his head down low and muzzled his face into the fur of the cat while using is hands to scratch the region underneath the cats chin resulting in the common purr of a more than satisfied cat.

"How did it get in the blue bird?"

"You know it has a name," Nightwing flipped the fingers of his right hand through the cat fur feeling around the thick blue collar that was around its neck, "man this things probably pretty uncomfortable..." he smiled a cheeky smile, "I'll see if we can get you something more suitable super-kitty." He picked up the cat and raised it above his head, "Mr. Nightwing's got some work to do..."

"You can't leave the cat in the Blue Bird..."

"Why not?"

* * *

"Can't we ever just talk about us," Conner's voice continued to be sympathetic and lighter than the commanding tone he had taken in his office; he was ever so weak in the presence of the blond heroine whom stuck to her principles.

"How could there have ever been an us?" Cassie retorted shortly but contrasting the tones of the Conner's with a more sarcastic feeling but retained some serious momentum.

"You keep saying that you'll never talk to me again," Conner waved out his hand and gestured confusion with the circular motion of his muscular shoulders, "and yet here we are once a week arguing about a past and a future that hasn't happened yet..." he dropped his posture attaining a flimsy scarecrow like demeanour, "I'm tired of it, but it's all I'm getting from you...and I'll take what I can get from it..." he nodded his head and licked his bottom lip all while finding himself unable to even look at Cassie squarely, "I'm tired of it but I don't want to be without it."

Cassie took a deep gulp while her eyes began to waver from looking at the humbled Conner and the world outside the window wide wall ahead at the end of the office, "Why did you change then? We both knew this would happen...why not come back to me, to us, and tell Tim to ruin someone else world..."

"I haven't changed and...It's not that simple Cassie," Conner restored himself, clasping his hands behind his back as he raised his shoulders to the muscular span that defined the super humans, "He's got quite a firm grasp on everything I do."

"So he does own you," Cassie responded. She pulled her hands up to her chest and massaged her left hand with her right.

"It's not something I could ever admit to anyone...not a lot of people know who he is anyway, I'm certain that most of the population is content with believing that I'm some form of ruthless businessman motivated by self-interest..." he looked down at the floor, "what a difference from my younger years..." he looked down to his floor and reminisced, "see Cassie, I really wish I could go back...fly around Hawaii and working with the Teen Titans," he smirked a little as he looked back up, "but times have changed, there's a new generation of heroes cropping out of the wood work isn't there," he finally worked up the emotional strength to look Cassie in her beautiful eyes, "one of them will turn out quite fine under your guidance."

"You leave him alone," Cassie's eyes narrowed on Conner.

"Well, as long as he doesn't bother me," Conner stepped towards the windows absorbing the glow of the sunshine and enjoying the bright shade of blue that dominated the office space, "then I don't suppose we'll have any problems."

"Conner," Cassie let out a deep breath and took some steps closer to Conner whose gaze was rather empty and yet viewed the city outside with such ferocious intent, "I do want you in my life...I really do...but this path that you're on, it's not what you want, not what I think you really wanted for yourself...there's still time to leave it...to come with me...and now with Superman having left the planet...there's plenty of room for you..."

Conner simply began to laugh a little, "they don't trust me anymore...the hero community, it split. I guess I aligned on the path that you persons found to be..."

"No...It was a stupid choice and now it's time to make a new choice..." Cassie stepped up behind Conner and placed a pleasing hand on his shoulder and felt along it to the side of his arm, "you can still change."

"I didn't change... I still want to believe what we're doing is right, for everyone."

"Maybe I can't do anything about this right now...but you know, I'm sort of tired of this too," Cassie pulled herself on par with Conner and showed a relenting smile, "I wouldn't mind patching this relationship up a more proper way...you know if you really want to."

Conner looked down upon her and became briefly lost in her deep crevice that her eyes betrayed, "it's been nearly a year, do you really think we can work through this..."

Cassie expired her lungs empty and forcefully tore herself away from Conner's gaze, "probably not," she took the sweetness of conditioned air back in, "but I'm willing to try," their eyes locked once more.

"How do you want to get started?"

"Why don't you come over to my place tonight," Cassie started by momentarily but stopped when he saw Conner's gawking expression, "No, uh Todd will be there...I've started to try and cook again..."

"Oh," Conner's head fell back. He looked to her, "sure, I'll come by..."

"Good," Cassie clasped both her hands on Conner's upper arms, "see you soon then."

"Sure," Conner responded quickly.

Cassie scraped her far off hand along Conner's chest catching short held holds upon his jacket and the centre of his inner grey vest. She tapped off along the way leading to the door which automatically propped itself open upon her nearing arrival. Conner looked over his shoulder and watched as the careful movements of Cassie disappear from his distance. Moments later, the stone faced messenger stepped through the doors and stopped abruptly a metre within the office. "Why don't you go home early..." Conner started, his gaze unflinching from the closing sun in the distance, "give everyone the rest of the evening off, even security...I'm just going to need some time alone."

"As you wish."

* * *

Nightwing stomp his boots into the stainless steel floor and examined the echo of the blue hue that shot throughout the room as a result of the cascading sun, "Luthor!" he shouted out with his fists clenched and spaced away evenly from his body.

"What?" Conner turned slightly around and relaxed his hands to waver to his sides, "Nightwing?" he seemed to both state and question at once with an agonized wrinkled complexion.

"I've taken out your security, there's no one to call to your safety!" Nightwing asserted himself stepping forward pivoting on his right leg.

"I sent them home," Conner nodded his head from side to side as he sized up the much smaller opponent that had broken into his office.

"Well," Nightwing let out a deep breath while his bulked up shoulders dropped down to slump, "I thought I could get away with that, No matter," he circled out his hands and proceeded to tighten the ligaments and muscles within the entirety of his arms. He slowly pulled up his fists to the height of his chest feeling the crinkling in the muscle tissue but then threw them back at the ground with lightning speed which was immediately followed by the appearance of metal rods that shot out of the circular dome like structures that wrapped around his forearms and connected with his gloves. He pulled up his right arm as if to aim the long bar in his possession like a gun towards his acquired enemy. Curving his back slight, a popping noise sprang out from his being as the metal rod zoomed out of its socket out towards the bulked superman clone that instinctively reached up both his massive paws to cover himself.

Conner grabbed hold of the black twine wire that was connected to the back end of the pipe and immediately pulled upon it with his super strength resulting in the complete pull of Nightwing off his feet and towards him where he had a fist prepared and waiting to make contact. Nightwing spread out his limbs and produced a terrifying short lived scream as he realized what was unfolding. Conner planted his left fist in the air and kept it up straight, he leaned forward a tiny bit as he suddenly felt the connection that he had with the weak body of his aggressor.

Right in the stomach, Nightwing lost his grasp of air and plummeted to the ground in front of the towering Luthor. He let out a series of moans with spaces of seconds in between the long span of the pain that was manifesting in verbal tones. He managed to get his hands on the floor and prop himself up on his knees. There, in his humility, he watched as the twine began to coil itself back up towards him retracting the one part of the nunchuk back into its proper socket.

"What is your problem kid?" Conner spat out. He leaned to look down at Nightwing in his uncomfortable position and felt a tremor through his legs, the willingness to kick becoming ever so strong as the moment to enforce it was clearly becoming lost.

Nightwing let out a few coughs and watched as the syrup like liquid of saliva fell out to the floor. He jerked his head several times to his right shoulder and down to the floor whipping off the sticky portions that remained of his spit before slowly pulling his left hand to his belt, "please stop trying," Conner pleaded while raising his head to the roof in disgust of himself and his thoughts. Nightwing pulled up a batarang and used the rest of his strength on his free hand to propel himself backwards and somewhat land on his bottom. Conner looked at him suspiciously as Nightwing took a face of displeasure, head tilted lowly, eyes narrow, mouth shut tight, batarang raised over his shoulder... A sharp toss resulted in another instinctive reaction formulating in Conner's mind, he reached out and grabbed hold of the batarang device, "I know what this is..." he let out a sigh.

A small explosion performed itself within Conner's hands producing the thick black smoke that engulf near all visual references of his massive super human structure. Nightwing turned his head away as the sounded boom reached his perception and rang severely throughout his body leaving the extent of which in his ear drum pulsating its painful endeavour.

"Ah!" Conner's deep voice shot through the nauseating rings, "Stupid kid..."

Nightwing sat loosely on the floor swivelling his head around on the neck lightly and unable to comprehend the situation that was unfolding. He watched with an indefinable excitement as the robust hands of the Luthor gentlemen reached out and grabbed hold of his shoulders producing the feeling of spikes that manifested in each finger grading into his armour and almost piercing through. Conner raised the young hero up above his head and looked up with his boiling anger and chucked the helpless boy up towards the ceiling. Nightwing let out just one more groan as he felt his back side come into contact with the rock like ceiling. He fell to the floor on his stomach, his head lying on its side against the floor finding himself unable to fully be satisfied with its solidness of the ground through the cowl. "Would you just stop trying...please?" Conner pleaded as he watched as Nightwing began to reform himself pulling his arms closer to his body, arching the elbows and pushing himself upward. He pulled another device from his belt and flipped on to his back side and stared up awkwardly at the towering Luthor whom returned the gaze with an unusual appearance of confusion. Nightwing threw the much smaller batarang at his oppressor resulting it coming in contact and sticking onto Connors clothing.

Conner reached up his hands and attempted to pat the small device off his white button up vest but felt an thick brown liquid that protrude from the small device and appeared to expand with every passing swipe of his hand, "What is this stuff?" he called out with some fear as he felt the palms of his hands become increasingly stuck onto his clothing, "You've got to be kidding me!" he continued to shout when he felt that he could no long move his hands with the spreading of the liquid reaching up to his neck line and down past the belt, "Stupid, stupid kid!"

Nightwing rose up slowly and looked upon the stuck Luthor with his loose, tired eyes, "Why did you kill Flossman...?" His questioned with a wavering dry voice. He pulled up his hand into loosely formed fists and outstretched his right foot prepared for a second round of the fight.

"You two just want to know if was me? Well why didn't you just ask like everyone else?"

"Two?" Nightwing circled his head in an attempt to remain conscious, "Why did you...have to kill Flossman?"

"I didn't kill him; the man took his own life!"

"I...don't believe you!"

"Doesn't matter what you believe," Conner pulled down his hands ripping away at his pristine clothing and forcing the clinging of threads to his hands, "but you forced me to ruin one of my favourite suits...someone has to pay the consequences..."

"Curse word," Nightwing's eyes opened wide for just a moment before he got the full brunt of Conner's open palm at the side of his face. Lifted from the floor, Nightwing was sent hurdling to the side wall where he entered into a crash contest with the metallic wall. He immediately dropped to the floor and felt around till he was sitting down on his bottom. His eyes slowly shut.

"I didn't kill Flossman boy," Conner concluded while rubbing his dirty hands together in an attempt to break off the sticky substance that caused the ruining of his suit, "as much as he was good business partner and gentle man, he wasn't exactly the most socially active of anyone I've ever met...he probably just got lonely..." he let out a sigh, "what is this stuff?"

"I demand," Nightwing coughed up as he attempted to raise his index finger but thought better of it, "a citizen's arrest in connection to the death of Leonard Flossman..."

"Oh well, if you're going to be that way, you better take off that mask of yours!" Conner rushed down to face the sitting Nightwing and immediately pulled the cowl revealing Todd's fuzzy features.

"No not the face!" Todd appeared to regain his strength quickly, pulling his arms and waving them maniacally around his face to prevent his oppressor from getting a clear view. "Look away, look away," he shouted repeatedly as he cowered himself up against the wall.

"It's OK Todd," Conner rose patiently and attained a calm voice, "I know who you are..."

"What?" Todd voice beckoned a little as his hands slowly dropped down to his thighs, "How?"

"I know everything that goes on within my city," Conner took a deep breath that built up the intensity in his chest, "especially those of the hero kind."

"Great...how are you going to expose me then?" Todd leaned forward and stared upward towards Conner.

"Expose? No." Conner turned away and walked towards the opposing wall, "I'm actually quite close friends with your mentor...Cassie."

"Cassie? I don't remember the villains having ties with heroes...oh" he felt a nervous twitch rivet through his skeletal frame, "unless she's actually evil?"

"I'm the villain?" he turned around to look at Todd and placed his right hand lightly on his chest, "is that what they're calling me in their circles? Keeping me a hot topic within the loop..."

"I guess...to be perfectly honest, I always had difficulty following your personal story...I was always so much more interested in the way you handled the superheroes with abilities like Superman."

"Oh, what?" Conner questioned puzzled by this notion.

"It's OK though," Todd began to rise slowly to his feet, "I kind of like the villain, sometimes," he blinked, "I mean you're really cool in what you do...I think Lex would have been proud of you, that's for sure!"

"Ah..." Conner palmed his face, "no respect..."

"How do you know Cassie?"

"We used to date for a long time..."

"Date?"

Conner forehead scrunched up with the movements of his eyebrows, "you know long-term relationship...?"

"Like a family member?"

"No," Conner looked across at Todd, whom had regained his standing, and tilted his head slightly to the left, "like 'like' one another...love..."

"I don't really follow..."

"We grew up together...we used to be young heroes like you doing our duty with these abilities we were given... we got really close."

"What happened?"

"It's kind of a complicated mess..." Conner mumbled out between his teeth.

"Yeah, that's what Diana says about my mother and I..." Todd's voice trailed off.

Conner flipped his head around to his side and looked over his shoulder at the young hero, "Well since you've asked so nicely then..." he reposition his body to its standard straight position, "Cassie and I, we had some mutual friends whom we worked with, Bart and Tim..."

"Drake..." Todd responded with a continuous bowing of his head up and down.

"Yes, you know of him...I'm certain everyone within our community does. Well, One day he decided that Superman, Batman and the rest of the Justice League weren't adhering to the best method possible to ward off these villains that continued to grow more organized and more capable, he sought out a more 'clear' way of fighting crime."

"That incorporated hit list stuff..."

"Quite right, he set up hit lists of every possible known felon and imprisoned them...Batman only put up with this new approach for so long before he found that Tim had taken it beyond his original plans...but some of us thought it was the best choice, no more deception..." Conner looked at Todd sympathetically, "You have to understand that the hit list was working, crime was dropping because of the system Tim was orchestrating...one day Cassie resigned from our circle when she thought we had gone too far..."

"So you agree you've gone too far...?" Todd mumbled to himself.

"No...I-"

"How can you deny this, I've read through some of those files...he had meta-humans depowered, imprisoned possibly hundreds of innocent people and probably has files on every known person..." Todd throughout his hands, "he's ahead of the league in everything and sucked what little privacy the common man could have had in this technology dependent world."

"Depowered with just cause and I've never witnessed Tim arrest an innocent person," Conner continued with a strengthening sternness in his voice, "that's not like him...he just wants to be prepared for every possible situation; even one in which we all turn against him."

"He's a dictator..."

"He's not murder motivated," Conner shook his head, "he's not in this battle for himself, he's trying to make the world a better place," he took another deep breath and slouched, "the past generation, just before us, they've started to go on with this idea that the battle would never end, that there would always be evil that will need tending to..."

"And there is..." Todd hurriedly shot back.

"And who taught you that," Conner locked eyes with the young hero, "the original Batman? How can we...how can our future generation expect to live in world that's always going to be corrupt," he turned away and crossed the floor looking out at the city, "the past generation failed where myself and Tim believe there is a future without all this...and all I can say is..." he looked back towards Todd whom had drawn himself closer, "don't get in our way."

"You sound a lot like Cassie...you two were really close weren't you..."

Conner let out a gasp of air and looked from wall to wall, "Yes!" he shouted with a smile, "what conversation have we just been having?"

"Sorry," Todd reeled, "sometimes I forget how boring everyone is," he coughed, "I'm sure you guys haven't differed too differently that you couldn't get back together."

"No," Conner returned to a more passive tone, "I've seen her pretty much every week since the breakup but all we seem to do is argue."

"Well, have you tried not arguing with her?" Todd opened his eyes wide with slight puzzlement.

Conner smirked and blew a steam of air through his nose, "she just came by today, concerned about Flossman, though not enough to try and fight me about it."

"When you live in a cave as long as I have," Todd placed his hands together and stretched them above his head, "you start to realize that answers can only be achieved through force."

"I'm certain Cassie would have something to say about that."

"Yeah," Todd giggled, "but let's not go there...so I guess she probably reached the same conclusions that I did..."

"It would appear so...she probably only had me in mind though," his eye brows bounced with the forming of a smile, "she invited for diner, apparently she's tried to start cooking again," he refocused upon Todd whom had had developed a shocked expression at the invite.

"What? And how was that...the first time round?"

"Well to be perfectly honest...I think she bought pre-made food..."

"I don't think we'll be so lucky tonight."

"Do you need a ride?" Conner took steps towards Todd, heading towards the door.

"No, I've got the Blue Bird waiting for me on the roof," Todd pulled up the cowl of his Nightwing Costume and followed suit towards the door, "Flossman left behind a small friend and I thought I'd take care of it for him..."

"The cat right?"

"Yeah."

"Don't think he ever went anywhere without that feline," Conner spoke as Todd and him pushed upon the doors and walked through its frame together, "alright, now I just need to get something new to wear...something a little more classic."

* * *

Todd pulled on the back of the wooden chair of the dining table. He rotated his head ironing out the cracks in his neck before taking a pleasant seat, his back facing that of the entertainment room behind him, "What did you make us? What did you make us?" he excitedly repeated at high rate of fire. His clenched tiny fists hammered down lightly upon the smoothed table top rumbling the circular white plate ahead of him.

"You can wait patiently," Cassie head appeared from the side of the entrance way.

"Been some time since I've had a home cooked meal," Conner emphasized this state in his deep voice. He had taken to wearing a simple black t-shirt exemplified his superhuman-esque physique with Jeans so perfectly moulded together in its fabric that Todd's reasoning predicted them to be well into the hundreds of credits. He sat adjacent to Todd at the head of the table nearest to the large entrance way leading to the kitchen on his left.

"You might feel like you want to keep that way after tonight," Todd sarcastically returned placing his elbow on the table top to use his hand as a support for his hovering head.

"I can hear everything your saying!" Cassie retorted in a small unseen shout.

Todd became amused at the situation, "so you really put a number on me in that fight..." Todd looked across at the less amused Conner whom slouched down his chair keeping his hands to his lap.

"You ruined one of my nicer suits...oh," he nodded his head with slight dissatisfaction, "he attacked me without provocation...if you had been anyone, I would have found a way to sue."

"Not that any court would take you seriously with your abilities..."

"My abilities are not of a public matter."

"They sure look like they matter," Todd pulled up his hands and faced his palms against one another while aiming the space in between at the Conner's large upper arm muscles.

"You know," Conner pulled his hands on to the table as he leaned forward and began to twiddle his interlocking fingers, "I had a friend like you once, a real impulsive character, ran like the wind-"

"Alright, all ready," Cassie butted in with a large white glass serving basin that was shaped like a largish egg, "it's a recipe I stole from my mom...it's not much, it's not the high class you two are used to with your various rich father figures, but I thinks it time we started enjoying the simple pleasures-"

"Simple?" Todd interjected, "You have no problem with me using Wayne's credit card to get me some proper high quality food like the dishes I used to get?"

"I was referring to the company of good friends and family..." she placed the dish flat on the table, brushed herself down and pulled away at the chair on the opposing end to Todd. Sitting down with a smile, she looked at both of the boys in her life and nodded affectionately, "everything's going to be alright..."

Todd propped himself up a little higher in his seat and leaned in to take a look into the bowl. His eyes turned to slits and his mouth to a puckered open shape as he examined the slimy cheese ridden pasta like contents, "eat this...?" he mumbled the barely audible question to himself. Conner laughed off by himself close his eyes and turning away from the table.

"What was that...?" Cassie beckoned looking at Todd questionably.

Todd clasped onto the large metal spoon that leaned up against the side of the dish with its primary feature being stuck within the moist pasta. After receiving a significant portion, he gladly relieved his status hold of the spoon the neighbouring Conner whom proceeded to follow up on a sizable portion for himself.

After Cassie had helped herself, she angrily worked her way into her creation. Todd and Conner looked upon her in a bemused state of thought, "Cassie," Conner started between his first two bites, "it's quite good," he nodded and coughed a little. She seemed to be of little care however, looking up briefly at Conner before returning her full attention on her plate.

"All that cooking...forget what it's like to actually eat..." Cassie mumbled out.

A shift in Todd's feet resulted in his attention being diverted to the floor where he found the orange tabby circling around his feet. He looked up at Cassie, whom was in full splendour of her design, then focused upon feeding the cat an acquired noodle from his fork. The cat took a few sniffs with its nose coming to touch it. With a fabled leap, the cat pounced upward on to Todd's lap resulting in the boys smile at the possibility of a pet that adored him.

"So Cassie, how's work been?" Conner questioned with limited interest.

"Just finished doing work for the mayor..."

"I helped-" Todd quickly shout out while now working a tug-o-war system with the cat that attempted to place its claws on the table ledge; however, a slight audible meow betrayed the secret of its nature.

"What's was that?" Cassie dropped her fork and fell back in her chair with a stunned expression, "it sounded like a cat..."

"Kitty," Todd said slowly with a large tooth filled smile.

"Todd...?" Cassie looked upon her young ward with a disgruntled expression, "what's in your lap?"

Todd looked away from her and out the glass sliding doors at the empty end of the table. He let out a small sigh and pulled up the orange tabby to the table. It hung loosely on Todd hands, its overwhelming fat reaching out beyond his fingers. Cassie looked upon the cat with a limited sympathy, "where did that come from?"

"It's a super-kitty..."

"No Todd," Cassie hammered her righteous fist against the table, "where did that cat come from."

Todd gently allowed the cats hanging paws to reach down and touch the table where it appeared to try to inch itself closer to the dish of pasta, "I found him in Mr. Flossman's office...he just sort of left him there..."

"Flossman...you were investigating Flossman and you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't think it mattered till this afternoon..." Todd replied attempting to maintain a degree of calmness, "but look we drew the same conclusions about his death, that's how I got to meet Conner before diner today..." he lowered his head down to whisper, "he beat me up."

"Oh so that's how you knew each other, not just through some secret files...and you beat him up, a kid?" Cassie pushed the chair back and raised up to a standing position, hands outstretched flat on the table surface.

"Well thanks for bringing that up kid," Conner dropped his fork and bowed his head.

"And cats have never done me any good... Ouch!" Cassie shouted out. She had reached her hands to attempt to persuade the cat from coming near her delightfully unsavoury dinner, "that flee bag..." she examined the three prong claw that had come into contact with her skin, "now I'll have to put stuff on it and it'll sting!"

"You have a weakness to cats?" Todd questioned.

"Just get rid of it," Cassie pleaded, "I can't have cats in this house...they hate me and I hate them."

"So if I came back as a cat in the next life..." Todd raised his hand to consult his chin, "would you take care of me."

"Todd..." Cassie placed her hands firmly on her waist, "we have a lot more things in our lives that leaves little room for the cat."

"Like what?" Todd sarcastically asked.

"Well, how about Flossman...? Where did you keep the cat on your investigative travels?"

"In the Blue Bird..."

"Hardly a place for a cat to be wouldn't you say?" Cassie questioned looking for approval. Almost instantaneously, Todd and Conner nodded their heads up and down repeatedly.

"That's another thing though," Todd started ignoring the suffering in Cassie's eyes while managing to pull the cat down to his lap where it relaxed comfortably. He first stroked the top of the cat before wrapping his hand around its neck to scratch underneath its chin, "if Conner or Ackerman didn't kill Flossman then who did."

Cassie released the tension in her body and looked down at Conner whom looked but once at her for a moment before biting down his lip and looking back to the table with congregation of thought he could not put up. Todd looked at the two puzzled as his hand came into contact with the thick blue collar of the cat, "hold that thought, maybe we can brainstorm possibilities together...come here super-kitty," his hand tipped the chin of the cat up, "time we got that uncomfortable..." his eyes narrowed down on the metal strap opener which his fingers nimbly picked at while thoughts of his carefully developed investigative mind flooded through him, "I..." Todd pushed his chair back while still keeping his head lowered and eyes fixed upon the Cat below, "I've got to go take care of something..." He rose from his seat and carried with him the cat as he entered the kitchen area and disappeared into the hallway reaching for the stairs.

"I..." Cassie started but could only release a built up tension of air. She tapped her fingers on the top of her chair, "I should probably go talk to him...if you don't mind waiting for a moment Conner."

"By all means," Conner looked up to her and waved his arm politely, "do what you do best."

* * *

"What did you find there?" Cassie placed her hand on the door frame leading into Todd's room and nudged the door a little further inward.

Todd sat on his bed that sat immediately in front of the door. He had his legs aimed off the ledge and leaned on top of them, head bowed lowly with a piece of paper firmly attached in fingers with looked sickly upon his lap, "it was in the cat's collar..." he mumbled out. Cassie step inward to the room, her eyes becoming glazed with a bit of moisture, "it's a letter I guess...from Mr. Flossman, its hand written like Diana's, must be something important right?" he raised his head a little but could not work the strength to make it all the way.

"There was nothing you could have done," Cassie sympathetically responded as she lowered herself to Todd and sat down next to him. She covered her arms around the young boy, "but that doesn't make it any easier does it?"

"Of all the times I've been wrong when I thought I was right...couldn't this just be one of those times where I was right? Where there's a villain..." he looked up at Cassie with a slight amount of tears reaching on to the outskirts of his cheeks, "how is the good guy supposed to triumph in this?"

"I don't know..." Cassie whispered to him.

"This isn't what's supposed to happen...not in this world," Todd took a heavy gulp, "I wish I had never stepped into that office," he spoke through an evidently growing sob.

"But then you never would have met that cat of yours..." Cassie crossed the ends of her legs and smirked a little bit, "what did the letter say?"

"Wanted someone to take care of the poor thing...it was his only friend..." his voice began to crack while allowing for his head to turn back to his lap.

"And are you up to the task?"

"Task?"

"To take care of it?"

A moment of silence passed allowing Todd time to contemplate the opportunity, "yeah," Todd's head raised a little more then began to nod upward, "yeah I think I can."

"Then let's see about giving it some proper living arrangements...alright," Cassie commented with a smile, Todd returned the look and produced a small smile for his own benefit, "everything will be all right..."


	12. Iota 4 Part 1 Cross

Iota #4  
Volume 1. Story 3.  
A Child's Playground (Part 1)

_Chronology:  
_Pre-Young Justice #1

* * *

Deryck quickly recognized he was on his stomach as he felt the force of his chest against his crossed arms and though he found that the flooring was something soft, the position that he appeared to be in was nonetheless uncomfortable. His eyes felt like they had not been open in an eternity as he felt the pain of their lids rotate around the eye balls producing and pain inducing gesture to not be opened, "Where am I?", he softly cried out of a developed groggy throat. With a long groan, he flipped his hands to face the palm on top of the soft item below him and propped himself up allowing for an easier toss over onto his back. The roof was a pristine white, the walls a more perfect hue of burnt auburn with a short metre high windows, one to each side of the room and two separate ones on the broad wall ahead of him. The rays of the sun gently grasped the essence of the transparent glass panels giving light to the entirety of the room revealing loose traces of dust in their more prominent appearances. Two rather old looking doors were on either side of him with shiny gem like handles. He rubbed his hands along the surface and felt the quilted pattern of the blanket, "what is this?" he shot up and levelled his back against the wall finding himself to be a on large queen sized bed, the lone notable object within the room save for a telephone upon a small wooden night table to his right side. He reached his hand out towards the table top and felt around its edge, the emptiness of underneath the top before it connected to the siding panels that became its footing. He pressed it up gently and acknowledged its lightweight, a throwback to a cheap imitation of quality furniture.

"Mister Jordan!" a loud voice boomed from the lone door to his left, "Mister Jordan? Open this door now." Three strong knocks mastered the door's outer side while a rattling at its handle caught the thoroughly confused boy, alone on a bed, in a room, that he was having difficulty comprehending.

"Uh," Deryck looked towards the door to his left which he immediately rationalized was the way out of this room specifically. He examined himself properly becoming disgruntled when he found himself to be wearing an unusual uniform that consisted of a small checkered pattern blue jacket and matching dress pants with a bright red tie accurately centred on a collar of his newly acquired purple shirt, "why do I look like a used cars salesman?" he mumbled to himself, "there's no Jordan here..." he called back in response as the knocking continued in its ferocity. He bent up his knees and propelled himself towards the end of the bed.

"That sounds like him," a light feminine voice became audible through the other side of the door.

Deryck finally found his footing on the floor and graced the discomfort of the tight fitting leather bound dress shoes and their hard rubber like soles. He stretched out his arm, examined the fabric of the jacket and the flex of the shirt closely and then dropped his arms letting the fabric to jumble up, "it's not even a good fit..."

"Break down the door," the voice returned. Deryck clenched up all his muscles as he found himself unable to take his eye off the door that was slated to burst. He tilted his head to his right shoulder and took two small steps towards it, hands prepared to form clumping fists, the ring developing a slight glow.

One boom, two booms, the heavy hitting against the door cause Deryck's to jump back and revolt in his heart as he watched helplessly at the wood that comprised the door began to warp under the force. Within the third strike, the light straps of wood that outlined the door frame crumbled to shards of tinder allowing the force of a tall bulky gentlemen in a blue police uniform and officer cap to break through. The officer, over two heads taller than that of Deryck, ruffled down his standard issue navy blue police jacket that had six buttons running up his right side but stopped short of his waist allowing for some free roaming of the fabric to exist beyond down to his thighs. The officer tipped down his head allowing for the hate to camouflage his eyes but did a fairly pointless job in covering up his nose which was large and round in its proceedings; the man's lips were stiff debriefing his cold demeanour.

Deryck's eyes grew wide as he watched a more pleasant woman step in through the open frame of the door which now leaned awkwardly up against the wall that it slammed into, "what's up?" Deryck was quick to question placing his hands upon his waist, elbows bent outward.

"We know what you took Hal," the woman stepped ahead of the leading officer, "we just want it back," her voice was soft but spoken nonetheless with a hardness in attitude.

Deryck looked at the woman up and down, she was much older than he was but not much taller. She appeared to him as an authoritative woman with dark blue eyes that nearly reached black. Her smooth black hair was tied back into a tail but whipped out around once every so often when she nodded her head as she too attempted to analyze Deryck, at least, that's how it appeared to him, "I don't know what you're talking about," Deryck firmly attempted to state while raising his hands slightly above stomach height and forming a defensive posture. He attempted to think through the situation unfolding but continuously found himself distracted by the woman, her smooth face and spotless complexion proving to be an enduring source of distraction for the young fragile mind.

"Hal please," her position of authority appeared to drop, "you know I love you..." she looked away from him in disbelief, "look, I won't let the higher management know...but those files," she returned to him but her eyes but they fluttered rapidly in all directions, "we need them...for the sake of this country's security."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Deryck spat back, "I'm not Hal..."

"Hal, we have the footage..." the woman continued in her tempting voice, "you were at the airfield this morning," Deryck decided to make a move and paced himself towards the opposing side of the bed while maintaining unflinching vision the two intruders whom in turn kept themselves focused upon his being, "we know you were there," she grew a bit angry and stamped her heavy right foot into the ground, "we have your signature on the signed out files...but you're not supposed to take them off the airfield."

"OK, but you haven't heard my side of the story..." Deryck smiled and threw out his hands.

"So you did take the files with you..." The woman paused for a moment and then looked down at the floor with a shocked expression before looking back up at him, "you're not betraying us are you...?"

"I don't even know who you are?"

"It's Carol..." the shocked expression of the Woman's face returned. She started to move also towards Deryck but paused at the head of the bed when she saw Deryck look away from her and slouch his shoulders, "What happened to you?" she attempted to approach him with a sip of sympathy.

"I Don't..." Deryck face scrunched up with confusion, "I don't know what happened...I just woke up here in this room..."

"Hal, you should come back with us to the field."

"I'm not Hal!" Deryck shouted clenching his fists.

"OK, OK," She repeated with a raised voice. She rose her hands up to her chest and flexed out her palms in Deryck's direction, "you just need to calm down and we'll work this back at the field."

"I'm not going anywhere..." Deryck shook his head with dissatisfaction as he noticed the upper bodies of the accompanying police officer began to tense up, "especially with him," he pointed across the bed at the intimidating officer.

"Please?" the woman named Carol pleaded once more.

"If you actually knew the real me, then you'd know I've already thought of a dozen different ways to escape this room..." he allowed a small smirk to form before relaxing the tension in his muscles. He bowed his head lowly to his chest and started moving his fingers at rapidly at the sides of his thigh outward, "but I'm going to avoid all the heavy lifting this time round for your benefit..."

"It for your own good," Carol voiced concerned. She raised her hand and motioned towards the officer to come forward and take Deryck into custody, "it's for everyone's good."

"Really?" Deryck looked back up and watched as the large leading officer circled around the bed with open arms, preparing to grab him. He knelt down a little bit and reached out his right hand towards the night table, "Grab it!" he shouted as tapped along the smooth surface of the table and got hold of the white, flat, cord bound telephone which he proceeded to chuck in Carol's direction. Instinctively, Carol rose her hands to take hold of the tossed phone but it was much too late for to put up an adequate defence as the handle piece of the phone itself broke off from its holder which proceeded with its momentum to smash into Carol's head which she immediately recoiled from spitting out terms of pain. The lone officer quickly moved around the edge of the table to get to Deryck but he took no time in his preparation, returning to the night table and grabbing it by the edges of the table top that jutted out from its base. A firm grasp upon it, Deryck hoisted it up quickly and in one motion turned his body a full circle raising the table and smashing it into the officer breaking its four foot high pegs of support right off. The officer flinched in pain as his back arched, knees bent, falling head first into the corn of the mattress. The body slump down off the mattress and fell down into the produced lumber.

Deryck immediately jumped upon the bed itself and slid across the quilted top to the other side making a dash towards the door. He threw out his fist into the outside of the door as an attempt to gain a strong posture following the dash. The hard push further pull the door against the wall leaving a physical mark within it. With quick motions, his head looked in all directions of the hallway ahead, "almost like royalty?" he quietly spoke to himself with the overbearing of his breath taking over. The floors were of a fine red bushy carpet with chandelier like lights every two metres along the cream coloured walls that in this apparent atmosphere glowed. Fortunately, he found that the room he had so mysteriously woken up in was at the end of the hallway and that to his left, a near dozen rooms down was a brightly shining sign, fallen from the ceiling by two metal looped cords, that read 'stairs'. With a quick bolt, Deryck allowed the rush of adrenalin to take him over pushing his body to its greatest extent for whatever lay ahead of him; anything to escape. At the end of the single hallway was a door which he paused at and examined quickly in his peculiar way. A smirk arose as he found himself laughing at the notion of stairs existing.

Deryck held down on the J-handle of the heavy metal door at the end of the hallway and pressed upon it. A quick look back at where he came from revealed the hurt officer whom cradled his hands tightly around his stomach as he stumbled out of the doorway. The site ahead of him presented a problem, he saw a flight of over ten plain concrete steps reaching downward and another heading upward, both to new platforms which most likely stood on par with the floors above and below. With time winding down, Deryck started to take to the steps leading downward but came to sudden stop near its middle, just before his strong foot would take him further through its momentum. Bringing his feet to the single step for balance, he pulled up his ring hand and looked at it intently, watching as it lit up in its majestic light and smiled with his revelation, "oh...I'm starting to love you."

Deryck heart continued to race with increasing volume as he turned around from his current stepping and made for the steps that led above. Up to the next floor and beyond to the next, Deryck soon made it to the top floor. He rammed up against the wall with a shaking body where he began to question where to go to next. The door leading into the floor was the last of its kind for a wall with a single solid dark grey door presumably leading upward. "How do I open it?" he puzzled for the moment at hand as he paced upward to this door and felt along its crooked and bent surfaces. He felt around the region were a handle would normally be but all that could be found was a flat circular metal piece that stood distinct from the ugliness of the door. His head raised up to full strength when he heard the door some floors down open up with a muscular girth that would have been produced by a more questionable force pursuing him. "No time," he commented under his breath as he raised his fist with the ring beginning to glow beyond it developing a hard shield out the outer flex of his fingers. Instantaneously with his decision, the fist punctured through the metal frame causing the indentation of the surrounding metal all around his arm; the door had become a flimsy excuse of its purpose. Deryck placed his left hand on the brunt of his right arm and proceeded to pull back upon it. He worked his brows to sweat as he pulled hard resulting in the tearing sound of metal which continued till the slots hinges that kept the door in placed seemed to snap in one large pop that left such a placement within his ears for some time. "That...was too easy..." he pulled out his hand from the wrecked hole and shook it lightly as he used his free hand to pull at the ledge of the door, watching as it loosely as it became devalued as a form of keeping people out. The sound of the officer stepping up the few floors between him and where he started convinced Deryck to drop his investigation in haste and continue with his actions up the short flight of stairs ahead of him which he hoped would take him to the roof.

A red door broke out of the hinges of the single person height hub on the roof. Deryck immediately found himself confronted by the cool air and the clear sky with the crystal clear sun hanging over head. He slowed down his racing steps and bent down his back, clutching his stomach lightly as he attempted to gain his breath back, "alright, let's get this on." Deryck raised his ring hand once more in front of his face and allowed its ethereal glow to reach down the strange suit he was wearing, tearing away at its fabrics and replacing it with the lantern uniform. The green hard glove let up around his palms and stretched up to the joint of his elbows. The large boots followed along with the shoulder guards. The octagonal shaped objects on either side of his shoulders lit up along with the flat large iconic piece upon his chest; each of which contained two white triangular pieces with their top points aimed inward towards each other creating a lantern like logo; the signifying element of all lanterns and source of pride. The jagged masked that veered up along the temples and headed down along the cheeks appeared upon is face with the square eye slits lighting up in the light green.

Deryck, now in full lantern gear, rushed across the roof top of the building he had just left, reaching out towards the ledge, a two foot high barrier that crawled around the perimeter of the rectangular shaped structure. When he had reached the edge he arched his left leg over top of the ledge and firmly planted the sole of his foot upon the hard metal badge that run along this barrier, "this looks weird..." he mumbled to himself out loud as he quickly noticed the backwards nature of the world below. His jaw opened up, his fingers tensed at his side as he the foundation of the buildings throughout an endless city had lost the typical steel and glass constructs formulated as natural to his world and instead adopted classic tones of stones and layers of brick that formulated designs of extraordinary architectural value. The ends of each floor developed into a sloping upward ledge with decorative patterns that surrounded the entirety of the windows frame. All these buildings reached upwards of at least six stories with limited variation between each one and the only distance, all though seldom, between the buildings were a small one foot alley ways which from Deryck's standing looked cleaner than would have been expected in his own city.

"Looks like the Question has gotten the city to clean up their-" Deryck stated when the reality changing revelation donned upon him. Not only did the city and its magnificent structures seem to stretch off in either distance, the road itself was of a clean concrete substance with perfectly painted lines separating into four lanes with the vehicles that moved along them seemingly being confined to wheels as a form of movement. The teen's breath became disorganized as he lifted his next foot onto the ledge, standing upright upon it and unable to look down at the unusual world below. With time running down on his escape, Deryck took a leap just as the ring funnelled its energy further engulfing the hero in its aurora. With the littlest of effort involved, the body of the boy raised back on level with the building and then some as he positioned his body flat like and arms raised, clenching fists, up ahead of his bulk; he had moved into full flight.

"This place is something else," Deryck commented loosely as he watched the four lanes of the endless road produce a large assortment of fossil fuel powered vehicles and citizens walking happily along the outer clean cut concrete side walk. He passed by the building tops, their small spaced in between the limited height clearances, crossing above their clean surfaces and noticing little, if any change, between that of the city streets on the other side, "this place is clean...too clean..." he shook his head, "perfect even."

It was not to long till the emerald glow of Deryck's flight pattern interacted with the visual receptors of the people below whom paused in their tracks at random intervals, these simple people, and stared upward at him, raising their strong arms to wave while keeping another above their eyes to get a clear view blocking out the sun. "Mom, its green lantern!" a young voice screamed above the small applause forming. Deryck looked down with a bliss filled shock noticing the young children as they marvelled at his heroic demeanour soaring above the building tops.

"No, no...I'm not Green Lantern" Deryck smiled and spoke with a small stutter as he felt his body began to light up with pride, "better get used to the mix up though if I'm staying around..." returning his attention to the path ahead he began to become increasingly worried when he was unable to make out a horizon; no bodies of water, no outskirts from which the suburbs gave rise, no power plants or industrial regions, just the building tops and their spotless designs that easily reflected the majesty of the sun on their backs, "must be time travel?...was the past ever this clean?" Deryck wondered for the moment as he slowed down in the air. Coming to a complete stop, the emerald powered hero turned his head to his sides then adjusted his body accordingly till he had looked in all directions, there was nothing but the tops of similarly sized buildings separated by roads so evenly spaced and squared without even the most minor alterations to the set routes, "or maybe its something else..." his breath became shallow as the flare of his pride gave way to a sweating panic, "I need to get on the ground...where's an alley," he muttered softly to him, the vocalizing words giving the best development of his internal thoughts.

Deryck scuttled ahead of himself, northward, to hopefully find what he was looking for. It was quickly though, a place he had been looking for, across the single road that distanced the building tops he was up above and the ones on the other side. Nestled between two evenly sized brick laid buildings was an adequate ally way that stood two metres apart. He fell to the silver tinted top of the building nearest to him and placed his hands on the top of the ledge to get a good look down where he found himself admiring the clean dark cement mixture that extended along the ally way from one end's side walk to the other at the full side buildings length, not a single imperfection in sight, "way to easy," he vocalized his thinking once more. Propping his right foot upon the ledge between his hands, he lunged forward and allowed the natural tainting force of gravity to bring him into fall. He stuck out his hands against the opposing wall and gently glided down to the much safer ground using the power of his shielded emerald glow to balance himself. With a thunderous boom, he landed on the ground with his left knee pounded to the ground ahead of the bulk of his body but despite this fall, not a single stone that comprised the travelling way was affected by the impact. Looking towards both entrances of the ally way, Deryck found that no one appeared to have heard his fall since neither child fan or concerned adult had bothered to investigate it rather all that was recognizable through these sizable entrance ways were the passing of fossil fuelled vehicles and a series of parked ones along the sideways that ran parallel to the road.

The young Lantern raised his ring hand, palm facing out so as to get a good look at the glowing ring through his mask. He watched intently as the gentle glowing began to fade and held his breath as the uniform, of which he had grown accustomed to in these travels, began to dissipated back into the uncomfortable blue suit that he had founds himself wearing when he had woken up. First it was the gloves that broke away into energy forms that allowed the collars of the sleeves to take their positions, followed by the shoulder bands and chest marker. His head hanged lowly as he watched the boots give way to the dark brown leather bindings that he believed he could never get comfortable with, "should find a way to keep the boots..."

Uncertain of the state of affairs that had brought him here or whom exactly he was being confused as, Deryck approached the northern street with caution, back lowered slightly and hands ready to move into action. The approach however grew more light in its heart when noticed the long boat like car of a pure white hue parked ahead which was being invaded by a tall wide chested man in a similar suit to the one he was wearing. Deryck raised his back up to its straightest and approached the side walk with care being sure not to interact with anyone that had been walking along his way. After adjusting to the distance of the powerful sun up above, he moved in towards the gentlemen driver as he positioned himself on the light teal leather seat that comprised the interior of the classic vehicle. Deryck looked upon the man intently, his smile, strong eyebrows that attracted away from the perfect brown eyes, the straight jaw and dimpled chin, and additionally the man wore a blue fedora to match the rest of his uniform which made him appear to Deryck to be even more classy.

Interested in whatever information could be gleaned from a discussion, Deryck approached the edge of the vehicle and lowered himself approximately to reach his hands on the top of the widow slot, he peered inward and caught the attention of the driver most easily whom smiled back at him in affection, "can I help you stranger?" the man politely asked as he stretched his hands onto the thin steering wheel.

But Deryck could not hear him entirely, finding himself much to focused upon the more subtle appearance of the character within the vehicle; not a single flaw upon his face, "yeah, I guess," he came to his senses within a decade of seconds, "I haven't seen one of these vehicles in years..." Deryck tilted his head towards the edge of the door and looked upon the dash board and the half dozen metres that it possessed with the angular metal bars the protruded from a centre piece. He looked down at the car's tires; they were in mint as though they were never even used.

A rumbling noise produced itself upon the turning of the key, "Yes, it's quite the classic; my father held onto it for me and it's always been the most reliable..." the man let himself reminisce.

"Yeah, just never seen them with carbon fuels, not in my time, but I still I know quite a bit about this things..." Deryck let his voice trail off as he continued to focus on the dashboard and more specifically those metal triangular shape indicators that usually moved to tell the driver of speed and fuel that the vehicle was at, "speaking of which, best time you probably found a gas station and got refuelled..." Deryck stated with some delightful cheer.

"Oh."

"What the-" Deryck shouted out as he felt his hands get torn away from the top of the window slot. The driver had twisted the wheel to one side and proceeded to press the vehicle forward back onto the road leaving a trail of invisible dust that threw Deryck off his thoughts. He watched with a degree of anger as the once patient driver deserted him in a quick display of rudeness, "where's the exhaust..." he questioned in a whisper. In less than a moment upon clarifying his deductive thought in vocal volumes, the exhaust of the classic vehicle began to spread outwards from the small cylindrical pipe underneath its immense girth, "what is going on here?" The car sped off into the zone's runways along with the other cars of similar calibres blending into the neat pile up that continued onward endlessly in both directions. Astonished, Deryck began to feel the normalcy of this occurrence but it was still not something he was willing to accept.

"Excuse me, where's the nearest gas station?" Deryck pulled over a young woman ahead of him for questioning but although seemingly able, the woman just seemed to ignore him and distance herself from the boy continuing on the path laid out ahead along the sidewalk. "Does anyone know where the nearest gas station is?" he cried out quickly and loudly into the general assortments of individuals that plotted out linear courses along the path.

"There's one just back there, two blocks that way..." a softer and young pitched voice invaded Deryck's sphere of senses. He turned around to find himself encountering a young boy, at least certainly much younger than he, whom wore a simple white t-shirt and jeans; he was at the very most a plain uninteresting boy with no identifiable characteristics to Deryck except that he was there and offered directions.

"Where?" Deryck questioned once more.

The boy raised his nimble finger to point back west where Deryck had first flown over, "its just a few blocks down that way sir."

"Sir?" Deryck muzzled over the thought for a moment, "No-" he quickly barked out, "I just came from over there...there was no gas station."

"I'm sorry to bring it up then sir," the boy let his hand hang lowly on his shoulders and pulled his hands together over his stomach, "you must have just missed it then sir," he looked up with large blue eyes that caused Deryck to become sickened with the revolting notion that he had missed something of difference in this endless running city.

Regaining his strength, Deryck pressed onward towards the younger boy, "thanks kid," he said with a small smirk as he hovered his hand over top of the boys head and patted it down twice awkwardly. The quickened walk moved towards a light jog which grew heavily into a running formation that soon dominated as he grew closer towards his supposed goal. The wind pushing against him raised the jacket to flap back in the wind resulting in more than willingness to gently embrace this windy encounter as he drove in and out of the human obstacles to get the much needed air in the covered regions of his body. The faces of the people he passed appeared unfazed by his apparent pleasure gained in his long strides which occasionally conflicted their own footing.

The human nature of Deryck's body began to become evident as pain developed from the bottom of his stomach and reaching upward to his throat. His tired feet stretched their last long strides as the well-paced running became a disheartening dance then a sad state of a jog before finally reaching a stop. In this world that he was in however, Deryck could not quite comprehend how far he had actually travelled; the four lanes of the street were still covered with the multitude of various vehicles and the repeated constructions with their complex stone patterns appeared now to repeat their colour schemes reaching through the simplicities of the colour wheel and on the rare occasion a burnt auburn that which estimated to occur every twenty full size structures. "Where is it?" he panted out while his hands capped on top of his knees while his body recoiled.

While contemplating a new search pattern, Deryck raised his head to find the station had appeared, nestled within a corner gap where he believed a more square structure once stood on his first flight over. A circular topped sign, held up in the air by a long pole, stood at the very corner edge just short of the sweeping sidewalk that wrapped around the bridging street of the main roads, "Coast City Gasoline...how original." He found the lot for the gas station to be very unusual in that the two sides that faced other buildings appeared like they were guarding it, as if they're walls were pushed inward just enough to squeeze in the small station on the corner. It was a rectangular box like building, the station main, which ran with its broad sides along the back of the building behind it so as to have its side with windows and a door set facing outward towards the main road and not the bridging cross street. Ahead of this was a typical scenery of a pre-twenty first century refuelling station being defined by four tall cylindrical pumps, two to each concrete island that continued to run horizontal with the main building, with a small overhead roof of sorts that bore over top the islands as it was held up by two large white metal beams that shot upward between the two pumps.

Deryck walked up the slightly angled roadway to get towards it but became startled when he saw a white boat like vehicle turn off of the side street and into the station. He froze in his tracks, heart racing, as he saw the same gentlemen he had seen earlier associated with that kind of vehicle. The man parked the vehicle a short two feet from the edge of the concrete island and kept inward between the two islands so as to place his car underneath the overhanging roof. The man placed his hand upon the pump handle and proceeded to pull open his gas insertion funnel at the side of his car. The long black hose of the red stylish pumps stretched out and reached with its long facet that was compelled in its movements by the man's hands. The metal tube was pressed up against the hole and the action of pumping fuel into the vehicle proceeded.

"Excuse me sir," Deryck approached the vehicle, "but what exactly are you doing here?"

"I'm putting some gasoline into my empty tank," the man looked up from his action and smiled at the approaching suited man, "it's a good thing you pointed this out to me good sir, I do often get taken into the enjoyment of driving that I often forget how much fuel is left."

Deryck nodded his head in affirmation and grunted out his response to this notion. He started moving bizarrely around the vehicle, hands raised and feet shuffling to the sides in long strides. The man looked at him strangely, "is there a problem sir, perhaps I shall find you some help."

"No..." Deryck humbly replied, "I think I'll be fine." His stepping returned to a normal pace as he crossed through the middle of the second concrete pump island and towards the door of the main station proper which stood directly at the centre of the two islands. He looked upward at the large windows that ran along the building to the left of the door and looked up on the young attendant whom stood within the window at his post awaiting the intrusion of customers.

Deryck pulled upon the outstretched metal bar handle that was firmly placed within the glass panel door and pulled outward. He popped his head in looking in all directions attempting to apply his standard of examination; the floors were a white linoleum with a grey flakes, two shelves made rows lengthwise containing an assorted amount of chips and treats that momentarily caught his eye. At the back wall to his left was a suitable kitchen like counter that contained a small metal sink to one side and four cylindrical black containers in stacked up holders that would be used for coffee. It wasn't long till he caught the attention of the gas station clerk whom stood a foot higher on the platform behind the washed out red counter top looking down upon him with a strange smile, "can I help you sir?" the gas stations clerk asked politely. Deryck looked the attendant up and down, not much older than himself, smooth short black hair, a wickedly clean smile and average upper body level; he wore a long sleeved white collar shirt that supported a tight black tie around his neck underneath the collar.

"Yes," the one word Deryck spoke grew in strength towards the end. He proceeded to step up to the counter immediately recognizing the height discrepancy that did little to distract the attendant than it did him, "how long has this station been here?"

The attendant gawked at this, looking up to the ceiling before returning his complete attention to Deryck, "I suppose longer than I've been alive...a good twenty years then I suppose..." he placed a firm hand upon the counter top and leaned up against its support, "this stations been run by the Holden family for a few good decades."

"No," Deryck shook his head with dissatisfaction, "it wasn't here less than ten minutes ago when I first passed this area."

"With all due respect sir," the creepy politeness of the gas station employee continued, "its a small station, perhaps you didn't notice it?"

"No I doubt that," Deryck turned his head to look through the large window facing outward watching that the suited gentlemen outside was slowly coming to an end on his fill up, "I would have noticed it..."

"It's quite a confusing city, much of the architectural developments all originated from a similar time...perhaps maybe," the attendant bled out some air at the suggestion, "you got lost? Are you perhaps new to the city?" he reshuffled himself to become presentable at the counter.

"I don't know..." Deryck refocused on the clerk but raised the index finger and thumb of his right hand to pat down his hands lightly, "I was in Hub City yesterday and then I woke up in Coast City," his hand dropped, "but that's like in another state completely!"

"Perhaps then...you should drop some, if not all, of those activities that led you here," the attendant firmly placed his hands on the inner edge of the counter and looked upon Deryck with a glazed look.

"No..." Deryck shook his head once more when he realized the implications, "who do I look like to you?" the attendant looked at him shocked, "I was kidnapped or something, I'm not this person...!" Deryck began to stamp his foot into the ground and shake his shoulder's outward resulting in the lose tension of his hands to act out his disgust, "What year is this?" he shouted out angrily.

"Perhaps its high time that we got you help, why don't you hold on for a moment," the attendant reached down underneath the counter, "and I'll call for someone to get come get you."

"Forget this man, just answer the question? What kind of world uses fossil fuels anyway?"

"Please sir," the attendant was losing his grasp on calmness, "let me get you some help."

"No I'm...fine," Deryck's sentence stretched out as he turned to look outdoors once more. He clasped his hands upon the glass door and peering outward he saw the appearance of two police cars, "ah, come on," he shouted out briefly with the drop of his arms. Across the way, was the woman, Carol, and four similar looking cops in their traditional blue garbs and hats crossing the lot towards the main building. He stepped back from the door slowly contemplating his next moves. He turned to the attendant and shot up his hand pointing at the confused and scared boy, "if you tell them anything dreg...I'll be back!" he placed his hands on top of the counter top causing the clerk to step back in fear, "now get out of the way!"

* * *

"We're looking for a man," Carol raised her hand slight above her head with the palm facing the ground, "about this high, brown hair, very muscular..." she dropped this momentary gesture and turned her head down to look upon the gas station attendant with a greedy visage, "we were tipped off that he had come by here..."

The scared attendant bit down on his bottom lip and looked over the station focusing upon the tall police officers and their muscular appearances as they circled around the the two columns. Evidence of sweat dripped down his forehead as he let lose the bite of his teeth, "yes ma'am," he gulped taking the time to make his words as polite as possible, "he was here no more than ten minutes ago...he was very unusual."

"What was he asking for?"

"He wanted to know what year it was..." the scared attendant looked away from her, examining the open spaces between his spread out fingers on the counter top, "I wanted to get him some help."

"Do you know where he was headed?" Carol questioned the boy as an officer appeared at her side, his chiselled features became all that intimidating in the mind of the young worker.

"No."

"No? Did he just leave the station?"

The boy stuttered between stating a compliance of no and yes before finally decided a mere five seconds later, "no."

"No?" Carol said once more with surprise shaking her head.

"He sort of just disappeared."

* * *

"This is just stupid, and why?" Deryck blurted out in a rant like format. He found himself walking down an alley way of clean black tar grounding with the perfection of brick laying founded between the two buildings a metre apart; not to far away in the distance was another main road and the cars that zoomed across it, "because I don't remember having done such a great moment of escapistry..." he threw his arms up in the air above his head and let them drop freely to his sides. As the sounds of disgruntled police whistles rose behind him, he quickened his pace, not once looking back at the station for any clues that would alleviate any questions his conscious had over what had brought him to walking this path. He pulled tightly on the jacket and although it crunched up tightly to his body, he could warrant from its a near foot of fabric slack on the outer rim which he nonetheless tugged upon in front of himself. He wrapped the excess around his body and clenched his arms tightly to this chest to keep in place just as he was leaving the strange ally way and back into the world that he had woken up into. Once more on the other end, cars of varying styles and colourations had taken to the road as was also the case with the people whom smiled and stepped with confidence as they scooted around the stationary Deryck. He stared upward at the clear skies, the sun now having disappeared behind him, and examined the building tops, their perfect straightness and edges as they lined up unevenly with one another forming what could be called a man-made horizon, "I want to get out of here...something new or I'm just going to dig a hole in the ground and sit in it till this is all over," he let out a light cough and bowed his head in the process avoiding interaction with all persons just as they would and have done so with him.

"Run!" a youthful shout of fear bested Deryck's sense as he jolted and turned to take a look at the puzzling plain kid whom had made his appearance once more. Behind the boy this time was something else much more bizarre, that of waves of incoming water flowing through the streets, all through their bridging connections and what ever small spaces existed between the brick constructs. Deryck watched intently as the elevated force water engulfed the tires of the outdated vehicles forcing drivers to break free of their confinements and approach a more solid option of dashing away from the growing disaster on foot along with the others whom had been strolling amongst the city already. "We need Green Lantern!" the boy's voice entered once more into Deryck's perception. He knelt his head down and looked at the boy, examining him further and finding the light blue hues of his eyes to be all the more alluring, "We need Green Lantern now!" the boy shouted once more raising a hand to point at the rising waves of water behind him. He felt bodily contact with another for the first time as the boy brushed up along his side attempting to escape the nightmare that had moved him to tears of fear. With not much time to think through all the necessary precautions, Deryck clenched his hands into fists and pressed his ring hand ahead of himself and let it light up with its unearthly glow. Within seconds, Deryck's body became blocked out from the rest of the world by way of a long tube like structure of green energy that sunk into the hard ground of the sidewalk and up just above his head. The noise of the boiling energy all around him reached to its highest peak of frequency when the tube shattered into little green shards that just as quickly dissipated into nothing as they flew mere feet away from the revealed Deryck in entirety of his Green Lantern uniform. Right foot slightly ahead of the other and barrelled into the ground, hands clenched tightly to the palm portion of the glove, "I can handle this!" His feet lifted from the ground and he dove into the air head first gaining altitude quickly aimed towards the bridging road ahead of him to gain a better vantage view of what the source of this mess was.

He was greeted with a surprise, and though it was the people whom were caught up in the watery waves that had taken to the streets that were increasing in volumes and needed his attention, it was the source of the waves that had gained the focus of his perception. Between the buildings that normally led to another main road was instead replaced with a river of sorts, though no beach could be seen with any certainty, from Deryck's place above the scene he could make out in the distance the edge of the river which was in itself flooding the other side's endless structures. The water was clean and glowed to a nice shiny reflection from the sunlight. He sat motionless in the air, puzzled and unable to control his muscles to act accordingly to his implemented heroic desires, "It's the Thinker!" a shout snapped him back into reality. Arms spread out for balance, head cracking back in forth watching the endless assortment of people break down in the streets and search for cover within the brick laid canvas structures.

At first there was a scrapping noise which then was followed by the sound of large metal joints moving to catch up to it. Within moments of hearing this awful contraption in its steps, Deryck revolted in terror as he saw three pronged metallic finger, their jagged pointed tips, stab right into the edge of one of the buildings along the bridging road. He let out a bellow of air as he distanced himself away to get a better view of the revealing creature. Then a circle head top appeared slightly above the hand and brought along with it a large top that stretched outward from the head near to metres and stretched downward towards a waist that almost reasonably even with the shoulders. The swivelling of the piece allowed for a series of tentacle like apparatuses to make their full appearance revealing the metal beast to not only be the size of any of the tallest buildings in the city but to be at the very least, humanoid in appearance that was bronzed to gold. Its arm and its legs were of a long cord composes of small individual foot sized piece allowing for a maximum amount of flex at every separating interval. "What is this thing?" Deryck called out as the creature took to standing at the centre of the two lane road with its enormous upper girth colliding and scratching away at the sandstone of the buildings causing at the very least, small forms of rock like debris that fell harmlessly to be engulfed in the stream of water that had reached a near metre in height.

"You are supposed to be working for me Lantern..." a cold and whisper like voice appeared to echo from the machine but Deryck clasped his hands to the side of his face as he felt the force of the voice bottle up in head as though it were telepathic, "I control you..."

"No one controls me!" Deryck shouted in response, the glowing aura around him starting to become more dense and dispersed from his organic body, "did I really just say that?" he nodded his head to his chest and questioned the puzzling statement of passion, "ah, what torment this is going to be." Deryck bent his knees and flew backwards higher into the air, simultaneously, he shot down a beam of his illustrious ring power near to the ground and allowed for lines, patterns, a source of imagination, to form within a small ball that formed and grew with detail till it had reached the pinnacle as an extension of his fist. Pulling his human fist backwards, the green flowing one followed suit and rose up to the air drawing closer to the young lantern's body before quickly snapping with his wrists, all aimed towards that metal beast that had forcefully taken to the streets.

The bursting of popping metal quickly took on a life of its own as the metal contraption was flung backwards a few yards, owing a great deal of its massive weight to not have been pushed far back enough to be engulfed by the stream behind it. A splash of water arose around its structure as the limbs in their tentacle like folly flailed around in the open air as though it were dying. Deryck flew up further and more towards the river, looking down at his new enemy and though at first he thought the brief conflict was over, he grew concerned when he saw the long tentacles making way for a hard surfaces, the arms reaching down to flooded beached head and the legs reaching out towards the building tops making contact in their dramatic fashion, ripping apart the outer laying bricks on the corners with the three prongs sharply clawing into it.

"Gotta stop this thing...gotta stop this thing..." the words repeated verbally and within Deryck's head as he quickly analyzed the surrounding features hoping that there would be an inkling of help for his mind to connect the dots on what a hero in his position would do next. The coast, what little may have actually existed was gone. The streets behind and the crossing cars along it, all buried underneath a floors worth of water. But one particular item akin to this kind of city spiked out from the water totally up to four stories carrying lines of power that extended all the way down the distance of the city, turning only inward once an a while at a bridging street such as this one, "power lines, of course!" Deryck shouted out with excitement as he looked upon the tall wooden polls that carried on top of them dark circular items upon a beam that ran horizontal to the poll. Black lines ran through the circular slots and connected to another beam some distance away with this patter in continuous loop. With time winding down, Deryck dove down to the nearest pole at the corner which he clutched onto with both his hands while his leg flew freely behind him in the air. He pulled up his ring hand from his steadying position and looked upon the circular devices that kept the main lines in place, "oh ring, you better protect me..." he reached out and grabbed hold of one of the four circular tubes that ran lengthwise of the beam and broke it free with a pop that resulted in the wire coming free of the grasping tube. He held it in his hand for a moment, unflinching at what he assumed was an electronic explosion occurring in every inch of what it came into contact with; the emerald shield, his power, maintained its defence.

The defined enemy regained its balance on its feat allowing for the arms to be dragged along the river's ground floor pushing its torso upward to achieve its full height. Deryck glanced across at the flat semi-circle head top of the machine before tugging harder at the cord to gain some slack. Holding the line now in his left hand, he pulled up his ring hand and formed a circular saw like device that reached one foot in diameter in his open hand which he used to willingly break through the cord, severing it from the coordinates it was a part of.

With blistering speed, the wind flowing all around him, Deryck wrapped the cord around the monstrosity that had come to attack the city, once, twice and several more times till the line of which he hoped to be his primary force of weapon would bring down his foe upon the mere touch of water below. Letting go of the wire, which held itself still rather loosely the series of poles not severed to its grasp, Deryck fell back into the sky while bending his knees and forming his palms into hard blocks of muscle as he formed another clump of energy, a fist the size of a car which he proceeded to use to bat his enemy into the water again. His enemy fell backwards once more with tremendous force, toward the water, sinking further now with his tentacles returning to their dying nature but not once did Deryck recognize or hear the sound of an electrical crackle; all had turned out contrary to what he had hoped for, what he had expected to occur in the event that such a volatile mix was introduced.

Like the previous scene replaying itself, the tentacles stretched out further, extending the entirety of their small metal bracket piece, towards the buildings for strength while the lower arm extensions worked their way into the softer sandy soil looking for anything hard that would qualify as support for its massive girth. Deryck became prone in the air, unable to fathom the situation unfolding as the top of this new enemy broke surface with a small splash and seemed to look upon him with anger as the sun bounced and reflected upwards and blinding him from a complete visual perception of the damage. "That wasn't supposed to happen," Deryck breathed deeply as he raised his arm over his eyes to hopefully gather a clear view; but it wasn't shaping up nicely, "the thing should be electrocuted!" he further mumbled to himself as he realized it was time to start searching out another option; however, it was in the single moment that he turned away to approach inward, back into the city, that something according to plan had occurred. The rumbling, the friction of two incompatible forces; what music Deryck had heard as he looked back upon his enemy and surges of white light that was engulfing it. A shriek of anguish arose out from the mechanical beast as the arms and their pinchers reached for the air and grasped for the air with little strength. Deryck watched with a gawking expression as it became apparent that the electricity contained within those small lines. Smoke arose from the beast's body as it jerked about within a small sphere of itself before pausing once the electricity had given out its last morsel; the threat to himself and the city had been neutralized.

* * *

"Thanks for the assistance Green Lantern," A firm voice of a authoritative police officer greeted Deryck whom had come to land down on the wet streets that had been gradually losing the flooding system which was responding well to the defeat of the enemy, "The Thinker's been lose from central city for some time now, I'm certain there's a scarlet speedster over there interested in his capture."

"Sure," Deryck calmly replied. The cop, a tall gentlemen with the button up blue uniform and eye covering hat, stood outside the black and white stretch car, door ajar with the radio blurting out static statistics. The deserted streets with the empty abandoned vehicles, the descending river down the coast back into its natural conforming contours, and a scour of cops working away at the Thinker's monstrous creation being examined in the sand patterns; Deryck stood oblivious where to his surroundings taking his hand to his head and slapping his forehead twice.

"There's some personnel from the military hoping to talk to you sir," the officer continued, "I know your busy man sir but there is personnel from the military...its possible that the Thinker's been using some technology of theirs, some water controlling technology that slipped out of their hands..."

"Yeah, um..." Deryck spoke with great hesitation, "I'm a very busy man," he returned with a monotone voice and a gentle polite nod.

"Alright then, I'll let them know you brought this one down for them," the officer turned to his vehicle and sat in the seat quickly pulling the door shut on him.

Deryck knelt down to the officer's open car window, placing his hands on the ledge and peering in, "do you by any chance know where I can find a power plant?"

"A what?" the officer retorted.

"Like, a place where they produce power that lights up the city? That kind of power plant?" Deryck's jaw dropped a little bit as he was unable to comprehend his own question or reword it in such a way that the officer might have been able to understand. The officer sharply turned his head to face the front glass view of his car, hands like stone covering the wheel; nothing of his body moved. Deryck leaned forward a little further catching the glint of the officers eyes finding them to be open and yet unfocussed as though he were receiving something. "Officer?" Deryck pulled up his ring hand and waved it in front of the cop's line of sight but could not attain anything noteworthy. He found himself now listening to the static as it blurted its unusual tones and intervals of silence and sound, he looked across to the radio that emitted them, it being a square box built into the dashboard; he examined it finding a silence of peace when he stared into its small metal cage.

"Lantern sir?" Deryck snapped out of his meditation as the cop's voice appeared exceptionally close to his side ear facing the officer, "are you alright?"

Deryck fell back from the car door, releasing his hands from the grip he had made of the window slot, "I'm fine," he responded with hesitant glare.

The officer proceeded to listen intently to the radio, grabbing a hold of a cylinder knob underneath the speaker turning it ever so slightly, "best you listen to this sir," he nodded up to Deryck to kneel down once more to get a good listen.

'A robbery has been reported on East Hasting,' a snappy voice pierced outward in an old timely fashion, 'armed and dangerous, squad 51 has them pinned; requesting backup. Over.'

Deryck closed his eyes and shook his head as the radio repeated its message, "no, won't do it."

"Something wrong sir?" The officer looked up at him puzzled.

"Yes!" Deryck opened up his senses and looked down upon the sitting cop, "where's the power plant?"

"The power plant?" The officer said lightly turning his head once more to face the front window.

"The Power Plant!" Deryck shouted while stomping his feet into the ground.

The officer's body jolted in surprise shaking him free of the blank stare into space, "but the robbery," he softly spoke back to Deryck.

"Where is the power plant? Tell me now!" Deryck continued to reassert himself realizing that the niceties that this city had taken to was getting himself, personally, nowhere.

The officer picked up a small sniff, "its up ahead, just off of Glover street," he whispered out like he was about to sob, his head lowered causing greater confusion in Deryck, "but what about the robbery?"

"Deal with it yourself," Deryck grew stern, "that's what cops are for." Deryck took some steps ahead of the police car before taking to flight leaving the watch and mope over the departing hero.

* * *

The sun was slowly descending as Deryck had made his way down the long main road that ran alongside the river which to him, had magically made its appearance there. He watched the ground from his flat flying position as the water moved back into its primary position within the river basin; like clockwork, it moved further and further back to where it came from. The bafflement that had characterized his character was quickly turning into concern as he could not come to rationalize the peculiar situation he had found himself within. All the happy citizens that populated the streets during the day had quickly vanished leaving the young hero in complete silence.

Up ahead, for the first time, Deryck had believed he had hit the end of the road, "that must be it," he commented under his breath as he saw a building in the distance that was surrounded by a two metre high cage fence with barbwire outlining the top all around it. He flew up to the fence, just over top of it, and felt at the barbwire, dropping that ethereal shield around his hand just for an opportunity to gain some reality in the form of pain. What a sigh of relief he had when he felt the strength of the metal barbs reach deeply into his skin; however this quickly turned over into panic when he found he could not seem to puncture the thin layers of his organic flesh; it was dull and lead to further confusion. His head bolted up straight and looked around; the power plant, if it be called that, was more or less a box of a building, very grey, very plain, with a few windows on its outside but evidently the blinds prevented peering eyes inward. It was not large in its immensity, Deryck reasoning that the two floors that existed within must primarily be that of office space but regardless of these assumptions, it was not of particular interest to him, no, the electric transformers that were hardened into the ground just over the fence; these metal rods and coils that formed delicate patterns. He landed on the ground nearby it, mouth shut as he examined the details of the structure, the light coils, the rods, all forming a jungle gym like in the four metre by four metre square. He raised his ring hand once more and reached out for a rod, one above his head that stretch across along with other rods forming a monkey bar like formation. The shield dropped around his fingers as they came into contact with the rod and then nothing. Deryck let out a deep breath of air as he began to laugh silently to himself, head bowed and raising at random times, "this isn't real," he stepped back from the device and produced a hammer of green energy the size of small room and smashed it over top of the electric transformer breaking it down to its shards and glass like devices.

* * *

"What am I supposed to do now..." Deryck, having dropped his lantern persona for the time being, paced in front of a large window pane of a traditional and small meat shop, darkened since closing and therefore difficult to peer into but necessarily permitted a good reflection of his physical presence which he took to his advantage, "OK, I'm being confused as someone," he slapped his hands together and held them tightly to his chest, "what kind of wears a suit like this?" he paused and pealed open the suits jacket and stared at himself in glass, "ugly shirt, worse of tie...I look like me," his hands dropped the suit and reached for the details of his face touching his jaw bones, "but everyone's confusing me for someone else...admit possibility that they're probably seeing someone else," his eyes began to waver from looking at the reality of his body and back into the reflection, "identification...must be someone," he began to flip around nervously in his spot smoothing his hands across the suit attempting to find anything of remote importance, "I want a wallet!" he shouted just as his hand slipped by the pant's pocket on his right side where he felt something harder than just his flesh on the other side. Reaching in, he retrieved a small brown booklet, leather in its feeling, which he proceeded to open. On the right side was a simple picture of a raven haired woman with the left containing noteworthy information that stated: "Hal Jordan," Deryck raised his hand to his gawking mouth attempting to keep it closed, "test pilot..." He re-examined the photograph, the smile, the posture, the hair and although her eyes were shut he was able to imagine them open quite clearly, "Carol!" he shouted outward.

Deryck leaned his head up against the glass window and shut his eyes while taking a deep breath followed by a sigh, "am I real...yes? Maybe. Perhaps I've lost my memory...but then, who is Deryck? I am..." his eyes bolted open and he found himself wavering back away from the glass, "what kind of a world runs without electricity? Without fuel?" he pulled up his ring hand to his chin and held it closely like a cup, "alright, those results...they only came about when I recognized that there was an issue, this world doesn't run on normal forms of energy; it doesn't exist within my mind because I would have thought electricity to have worked...so whatever is causing this, its not in my head," he dropped his hand, "its voice active...whatever is behind this is learning from actions, words...why I did I jump to the conclusion that something is behind this?

"I'll ignore it!" Deryck looked up at the sky and held up his clenched fists, "I won't do anything you want me to do!" anger forged itself and small extracts of tears ran down from his clenched eyes. He let out a few brief loud breaths before dropping his hands allowing them to hang limp ahead of him, "the voice in my head? I'm starting to lose my mind...wait...something was controlling me," he swivelled his legs to bring his body around to place his back against the glass which he proceeded to slide down till he was sitting comfortably on the cold smooth sidewalk, "what was its name...The Thinker...it said it was controlling me...no the lantern; maybe I am Hal Jordan...whose Deryck?" he relinquished himself of the physical burden that came with breath, "no...I'm not losing my mind; I know who I am, but this is not a dream, something has brought me here and I've got to figure out what it is." He rose abruptly from the ground and shook down the awkwardly fitting suit till it had adjusted to an appropriate comfort level, "but I'm tired," his eyes shut for a moment while his hands searched back through the wallet; he looked back down at it believing he had found what he wanted, "what is this paper stuff? Agh, where's the credits? No wait...this is the way they used to pay for things...interesting," he laughed a little, "got to find a hotel. I want a place to sleep!" he shouted out into the air as he looked to his left and proceeded to continue in that direction where everything up ahead was empty, poorly lit by the light of the moon and stars and hopefully possessed the proper tools for alleviated the powers of sleep.

* * *

"Same room then Mr. Jordan?" a polite dark skinned man called out in a deep voice that riveted Deryck's interest level. Deryck turned to the man whom stood within a booth that was built into the wall which primarily consisted of metal cabinets, lockers two feet in height, three of them reaching upward. The man wore a light brown suit save for a proper jacket instead opting for the beauty of a vest and bright blue tie that shined in the lone lamp like light that shined above him. Deryck stepped closer to him examining the man's gentle pudgy facial features, those dark eyes and crown of white hair making him appear all the more majestic in matching the deepness of his voice.

"You know who I am," Deryck shoulder's bounced upward at the possible revelation.

"Sure do, you rented out room 4F yesterday...sure left in a hurry this morning; don't worry, I had everything cleaned up and your friends posted the bill."

"Excellent," Deryck smiled and sat his arm up on the ledge of the check in desk, "I'll take that back then, why not?" he laughed a little as he appealed to the sanity of normalcy throughout the encounter.

"Very well," the man commented as he reached his hands underneath the table top apparently reaching towards something. Deryck looked up on the man, watching as puddles of sweat formed on his scalp and continued to gain momentum as they reached down his face, "here you go," he spoke in a delicate voice that was followed up by a big gulp. He handed Deryck a small circular key chain with a single key at the end of it; the description reading 4F in bold black letters, "You have a good night now," the man nodded his head and formed a very weak descriptive smile that through Deryck into a bit of a blunder of emotionless thought.

Deryck nodded in compliance as he dropped his arms from the counter top and turned forwards towards a plain grey door at the end of the hall, a short distance away from the counter. He pulled the edges of his acquired jacket forward and adjusted it to comfort once more as he made the steps towards the door. Upon reaching it, he recognized the familiar J-shape of the handle which he clasped tightly onto and turned slightly till he felt the snapping of the door trigger open the door to being brought open. Step after step, the weak and tired Deryck proceeded up the cement steps glaring ahead at the white walls that seemed to grew closer to him with every subsequent step upward; paranoia was certainly seeping into his mind now. He clutched the key tighter and tighter till his hands made the imprint of the key but he nonetheless continued its hard pressing; anything to feel real for this moment.

"Floor four," he found himself there, on the stairs platform that ran contingent with the floor itself. The door, the handle, all the same as with earlier this morning when he became conscious of this new existing world he was locked in. "The bed wasn't actually all that bad," he commented to himself as he opened up the door and headed through its frame to get into the beautifully set up hallways, "I don't even mind being alone..." he froze in his tracks as he saw up ahead, at the centre of the hallway, two near identical cops much like the one he had encountered this morning; their long dark blue coats and caps, their fists up at their stomach level waiting to used, "ah not now," he moaned with exhaustion throwing his hands out to his sides as he knelt a little on his knees.

"Stop right there!" one of the officers shouted across the hall as they decided to break into a full on run towards the boy with their arms outstretched and ready to grab hold of him. With the knowledge of his art taking a backseat, Deryck opted for a more simpler approach of returning to the door which he had exited and making the same dash to the ceiling as was the case this morning; however, upon opening the door and bashing up against it he found that he could not get open. In a quick panic he started to push harder and harder but with minimal avail; someone was blocking his exit from this part of his nightmare.

Deryck spat out bits of moisture as he felt the crushing of a fist up against the side of his head. The bones in neck tensed up a little as he felt the entirety of his body twist and deform towards the wall at the end of the hallway adjacent to the stair's door. He slumped to the floor, clutching himself as his legs sprawled out awkwardly, "it's for your own good," he looked up ahead of himself to catch the sentence of the feminine voice but his vision had become quite blurry, "its for everyone's good."

* * *

The sound of sliding iron on wheels were the first sounds that Deryck heard when he awoke; once more he discovered himself laying on his stomach, hands uncomfortably placed where his chest pressed down only this time the quilted soft mattress had been replaced with some much more hard. As he stretched out his arms, the ends of his fingers came into contact with a wall on side and open space on the other; this bed was much smaller. He pulled his arms back under his chest and pushed himself upward, flipping onto his backside in the process. He sat up, leaning against the back wall cradling his head as his senses and perception began to return. He let out a soft moan as he came to understand the predicament he had gotten into.

The room was poorly lit, a simple straight beam of red light hung overhead resulting in a glow that caused him to see everything in this one colour. A series of iron bars running vertically from the floor to the ceiling all connected to the paint brick wall he leaned up against. He was caged and could not immediately deduce any method of escape. He rushed his hand through his short black hair while licking his lips, "where am I now?"

"We brought you back to the base Hal," the sweet voice of the woman Carol drove in out from the darkness, "we're finally pulling the piece together, and with you having apprehended the Thinker, we might finally be able to put this all behind us."

"Then why am I in a cage?" Deryck shouted letting go of his head.

"We weren't certain that whatever effects that the Thinker had upon you had worn off; there is to much that you know and too much what he could have done to you," the voice continued as her bodily appearance became all the more present. She clasped her hands upon two of the metal bars on the broad side of the prison cell and pressed her head gently against them, "Hal? Its you now isn't it?"

"I don't know anymore..." Deryck propped his feet forward to touch the ground and stepped up from the little bed that connected to the wall, "I don't think I am...but maybe I really am."

"Oh Hal, please come back to me..." she seemed to whimper.

"Wait," Deryck waved out a hand in her direction, "you said I apprehended...?"

"Yes..."

"You know who I really am?" Deryck dropped his posture.

"Of course," Carol turned her face away from the cage and leaned her back up against it, "we've only been together for few years, I know all your secrets: the lanterns, the guardians..."

"Then you know I could leave this cell quite easily..."

"But I know you won't; your quite honourable man," Deryck laughed at the notion internally as the words slipped from Carol's lips, "and even you can't remember anything, you know its in your best interest to stay so that we can get your memory back."

"My memories fine...but I'm not Hal Jordan," Deryck spoke with sympathy attempting a new approach to the situation at hand, "I'm someone else, I've been kidnapped or something."

A moment of silence passed and Carol had moved very little from her position. Deryck became greatly concerned but let go of the bars the moment Carol's head bobbed upwards signifying her decision to move, "I must be going, we'll work more of this out in the morning..." Deryck watched her as she appeared to leave with a sob, "its best you get some sleep for now," he could not help but feel somewhat tormented over what maybe things were supposed to be and how they had turned out as a result of his replacing a lantern of dubious origins.

Deryck returned to sitting down on the cot, leaning back against the wall and bowing down his head while his hands clutched tightly to the edge. A few minutes later, "Hello Mr. Allen..." Deryck became startled as he heard the words being spoken somewhere in the distance, shrouded in darkness. Sounds of stepping and the ruffling of large clothing became more evident and louder as time progressed.

"Just came to see the suspect," a youthful voice followed through with a monotone seriousness, "see if any data will add up from the questions I have for him."

"I don't think-" a loud hitting sound suddenly became audible as the rest of the one man's sentence came to an abrupt end. Deryck's heart began to race but was quickly relieved of his eternal fear when he realized what graces the ring could bring him if and when someone attempted to kill him. A distraught panic developed nonetheless as the foot steps of this particular fellow became more audible.

Deryck lunged off the bed and reached for the bars, pulling himself up close to the front with his cheek bones coming into contact with them, "Whose there?" he shouted out but as could be expected received only the response of footsteps tapping hard on the floor in the most strangest of ways, "come one, show yourself!" he proceeded to scream out as his perception of where the feet were coming from began to disperse all around the cage throwing him off completely. Looking to his left, to his right and forward again, unable to locate specifics, he stepped back from the cage and felt the tingle of energy surge from his ring.

An image of a humanoid like figure appeared at the centre of the bars, on the other side of Deryck, but could not make any details of the figure whom shined in the delicate red glow of the single light source though of what he knew, the person standing before him was wearing a mask. Within seconds of coming eye to eye with one another, Deryck felt a pounding fist against the centre of his chest taking his feet off the ground completely. With a few seconds more, Deryck was somehow phasing through the wall behind him, soaking in the stones and then disappearing through their hard surfaces; the world around him had become blurring lines of existence. He attempted to scream but achieved no such effort to make it vocal. As such, he closed his eyes and concentrated hard upon his ring, to free himself from whatever had clung onto him and pulled him from his confinement.

The hells of Deryck's feet hit the ground, dragging along a floor of dust while his back continue through momentum. His body quickly became surrounded by the unearthly green glow when he found that the force carrying him had let him go. Soon the magical gloves, boots and details of his uniform developed as he found himself crashing up against an old wooden wall inevitably collapsed under the pressured force of his high speed movement as compounded by his protective shielding. He sat up, leaning his back against the wooden wall, and felt the floor, its light layer of dust and strands of hay, while venturing his vision at the high rising roof and the many beams of wood that ran across; dark within, making any claim to finding his assailant or rescuer would prove difficult through human eyes alone. The quick footsteps shot around him, he moved his head rapidly from side to side attempting to get a fix on whatever images he could achieve, "what do you want!" he shouted as he rose, his fingers having turned to hard green blocks and prepared to fight off this entity.

"What are you doing here?" the familiar monotone voice echoed throughout the barn.

"Show yourself dreg!" Deryck stepped towards the centre of the barn arena and looked above around at the slopping wooden roof and various beams. He pulled up his ring and shined its light in different directions all around, "I'll find you!" he turned sharply at the sound of feet moving behind him which he quickly shined through to the empty entrance way, the two large doors that remained bolted shut.

"Answer the question..."

"Not until you show yourself!" Deryck repeated with sternness. He hunched his shoulder and lowered himself all while keeping aimed towards the door but keeping his feet moving ever so slightly ready to turn at any moment. The quick series of steps caused him to turn once more to his back side but it was upon his turn that he felt a heavy push against the top of his back. He stumbled in his footing, collapsed in his balance, in a quick moment he had fallen to the ground once more, reeling in from the pain inflicted upon him by this mysterious force.

"Answer the question..." the voice came out more clearly this time as though the being was standing over top of Deryck.

Deryck, hands firmly under his chest, proceeded to skip the orientation of feeling the floor and simply flip up onto his back to take a better look at his assailant. Above him stood a figure as tall as himself, where a full upper body suit of a scarlet red with cowl with matching gloves that were tied down to his wrists with two straps as well as boots that ran up to his knees. His leggings were of black with a thin triangular piece that hanged out around his waist as a designing pattern. But of the most interesting features to this being was by the far the circular white emblem on his chest which possessed within it a stylized yellow lightning bolt with its tips breaking free of the circle's black circumference. "Who are you?" Deryck let out a sneer.

"I am Interval."


	13. Interval 4 Part 2 Cross

Interval #4  
Volume 1. Story 3.  
A Parents Privacy (Part 2)

Crossover: continued from Iota #4

_Chronology:  
__Pre-Young Justice #1_

* * *

"Answer the question," the firm monotone voice of Interval further terrified the young lantern, Deryck, whom laid sprawled out on a dust filled floor of an old barn that moments ago, he had been whisked off to from a prison cell on an alleged military base that he can't remember even going to.

"What does that question even mean?" Deryck spat out a clump saliva and watch it soak up little particles on the cement floor of the barn house, "is this the only place that is dirty," he mumbled to himself as he took a deep breath of the musky air, "what am I doing here?" he lightly asked himself before jumping into a full on shout "You brought me here!" Deryck, in the full lantern garb of long form fitting finger less gloves, hard cased boots that bolted into pad around his knees and the lantern logo, those two white triangles aimed inward upon another, on his chest, propped himself up to his knees with the tip of his toes bent behind him. He looked up at his tormentor with a hefty amount of distrust flowing throughout the room, "mind you, you seem like the most sensible twip I've met all day," the edge of his boots fell back to their soles as his knees bent upward into their natural straight orientation; he was at full strength now and this speedster standing before him didn't even flinch.

"You certainly don't belong in this world," Interval continued in his dry tone, "so I need you to give me some clear cut answers if I'm to make it out of here."

"You?" Deryck spat back, "I don't belong here either."

"I thought that perhaps you would have information regarding my current predicament," Interval dropped his intimidating posture, settling for a light footing and hunched shoulders, "When I was investigating you, I found some irregularities with the persona you had assumed."

"Persona...Like what?" Deryck coughed up, licking away at the excess saliva.

"You look nothing like Hal Jordan," Interval firmly stated as he took to staring the fellow young hero down, "and yet everyone I had spoken with believed that whom they were witnessing was indeed Hal Jordan."

"You've been following me?" Deryck responded in evident disgust.

"Since mid-day, although I believed myself to be quite aware of the situation that was developing upon first interactions at the hotel in the early hours of this morning; what you were apparently doing before the hotel and after the hotel would suggest two completely different people, acts that are very inconsistent with being called Hal Jordan."

"Yeah..." Deryck wrapped his right hand to the back of his head combing the hair down gently, "I woke up and...I was under some sort of telepathic control?"

"It would appear so since you do not appear to be knowledgeable of your activities committed early this morning."

"Are you always this cold?" Deryck questioned, "and who are you anyway?"  
"I've told you already," Interval stamped his feet into the ground and readjusted himself into an action ready posture, "I'm Interval."

"No man," Deryck smiled and throughout a soft hand gesture. He looked away and started nodding his head, "are we from the same world or something?"

"Most likely."

Deryck motioned to sit back down on the floor, clasping his hands around his bent up knees, he held his eyes shut for a moment to alleviate the tiredness that was slowly taking him over now that the rush of adrenalin was coming to an end, "Where are you from?" he looked up with a smirk.

"I don't see how that's relevant."

"Well, if we're from the same place, then perhaps we have a mutual obligation to ensure that we return to it...maybe there's something more to this 'kidnapping' that first appearances, something about who we are."

"Fine. I'm not from this planet but I am quite familiar with it," Interval relieved himself of the intimidating posture and turned his back to Deryck, "this time frame that this world seems to be in, its very foreign to me," he paced lightly in a looping circle, and turned his head slightly seeing a strange reaction of Deryck, "I'm from the twenty-eighth century..."

"Hmm..." Deryck's eyebrows bounced at the notion of a future entity, "yeah, good ol'2046 for me..." he started laughing more so in his tired state but came to an abrupt stop when he saw that Interval had stopped pacing and assumed a shocked expression on his face, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar, which he proceeded to try and cover from the teen lantern by blocking with his fully extended right hand, "what's wrong with that?"

"I was in 2046 when I was 'taken'," his head raised as the pacing came to a stop.

"So you're a foreigner and a time traveller..." Deryck retorted with a snappy cynicism in his attitude.

"It's practically normal thing," Interval snapped back looking across at Deryck in a sneering fashion, "for a Flash."

"Alright."

"I've been thinking through the possibilities since I arrived here; its a possibility that we're linked together in all this."

"Well, if that's the case," Deryck attempted to get a happier reaction from his new colleague, "perhaps its best that we work together on this one."

"Very well," Interval responded with a slap to the side of his own head, keeping himself conscious in not regretting the decision to do so, "I trust that you've encountered the same obstacles that I have?"

"Obstacles?"

"I ran in all directions, but I couldn't find a way out of Central City and Keystone, not until I was given authorization to travel to Coast City in which case the pathway to there just opened up somehow," Intervals breaths grew solemn as he gazed with empty eyes upon his ally, "I don't remember anything existing in between the two cities, not when I ran the distance, I was in one place and then I was in the next," he placed a hand underneath his chin to cup it which resulted in the lowering of his head near to his chest, "I was thinking of this world as holding some kind linear storyline where we've been brought to perform."

"In which we're the only changed factors..." Deryck interrupted finishing Interval's thought.

"Precisely," Interval took a big gulp and continued, "so it's possible that we're finishing a story that was set up prior to our arrival here."

"But how do we get out of it?"

"Finish it?" Interval gestured with a loose sense of certainty, "what have you encountered here?" he returned to his seriousness curving his arms against one another behind his back.

"This place doesn't seem to run on energy, like conventional energy..." Deryck spoke with the uncertainty that had followed him around all day, "cars that didn't need fuel, power lines that don't use electricity, power plants that don't make electricity."

"Stuff I would have otherwise not have noticed since my knowledge of this time is abysmal...that's why you went to there."

"All the more surreal was the way in which I came to notice those things," Deryck continued spiking a reaction in Interval that could only be defined as one of interest, "when I pointed out these small things to the people they seemed completely ignorant of it...like it wasn't common sense to them...a power line system I used to knock out some robot didn't react until after I had verbally pointed out its faultiness..."

"Suggesting of course that this world is somehow loosely attached to our perceptions."

"Whoever's watching us, or whatever is setting up this world," Deryck grabbed hold to a serious tone in which he felt comfortable in dominating the conversation, "it's just learning itself...operating on a level that appears to be working in our favour."

"Anything to keep the story running," Interval clarified.

"These cops that were chasing me," Deryck continued, "got me cornered in a gas station that was never there...but somehow I got out, I escaped...moments later I'm walking down an alley way behind it..." he shook his head with a wide glare, "it was never there when I first arrived...and I don't even know why these cops were following me in the first place...something about plans..."

"It was technology that the Thinker wanted and used on the rivers...that's who you were fighting against on the beach head..."

"Yeah that's another thing, why were you following me? How do you fit into all of this?"

"That..." Interval paused in his words as he looked away from his new ally, staring blankly into the darkness that the barn provided, "is another story..."

* * *

Jace's consciousness woke up suddenly, his body contorted to a lying down position for what must have been a few hours judging by his exhaustion; shirtless, he felt the smooth covers wrap around all soft and comfortable and though be that as it may, he quickly recognizes that this was not his bed. Eye lids, as tight and tiresome as they were, became propped open by his and strength revealing the the ugliness of the room he now laid down in. The ceiling was comprised of two by two foot white squares with an assortment of chicken scratches upon them for decorative purposes, a wooden like trim firmly separated each square from being continuous with one another. The walls were a pale green that matched the floor and its grass like texture; one wooden door was in the distance past the head of the bed a good four metres, closed, another to his right, closed also. A single shelf line proceeded all along the walls interrupted only by the presence of the two doors, underneath were dressers, long and furnished as a strong oak, one notable that rested up against the wall to his left near the doorway. His first instincts told him to arise and search through the photographs that remained stationary on the dresser's top but he was unpleasantly surprised to feel the smoothness of skin slap down onto his bare chest instigating a sudden sickness in his stomach.

Turning his head to his right side, facing the two sliding glass doors which provided the sole source of illumination, Jace encountered a small head popping up through the bulky white covers, the beings shoulder revealed to be in connection with the arm. He closed his eyes once more, took a big gulp as he felt the phlegm crawl up his throat. He looked upon the covers, a human form creating a bulge underneath them, curved in its form, legs bent, upper body twisted to lean up towards him; the nightmare unfolding within his head was unbearable. He traced his fingertips up his legs, bumping along the cotton shorts he wore, till he was certain he could pull his hands up above the covers and reveal the extent of this damaging emotion. With delicate care, he took the bulk of the forearm that had fallen on his chest and lifted it up slightly, tearing away at its attachment to his own flesh, and tossed it carefree into the bundled up body of the person he laid with. Upon the sound of the the arm hitting the soft mattress that buttressed their bodies, the fullness of the head of the other person became visible to Jace whom immediately set to viewing the features seeking for some recognition and insight into just how he had arrived in this predicament; a redhead at the very least, much darker than the traditional orange hue, with such soft features, perfection in every facet of her face, a purity of the human skin tonal value that stretched across her even nose and surrounded the luscious lips of a smile she possessed in her sleep. And though of all these things he understood there to be some respectable admiralty, he nonetheless saw limited interest in such areas and fought back against any preconceived notions that others might have felt in a similar instance which was further clarified when he came to recognize just whom this was; "Iris?" he muttered under his breath.

Calm and Collective, Jace planted the palms of his hands into the sheeted mattress and propped himself up, leaning ever so slightly against the back wall. He turned to look at the glass doors seeing the picturesque scenery of mint grass and a wooden fence that surrounded a small perimeter; it was a neat suburban backyard not much different from that of the West's home. A flip open of the covers revealed his barren legs with a pair of black under shorts being the sole article of clothing. A quick twist of the body to bring his feet to the floor and Jace was up pacing away from the bed towards the dresser nearby. One by one, he lifted the photographs in their holders and examined the souls trapped there within; the woman in the bed, Iris, being cradled and hugged by a larger muscular man with short blonde hair, Barry, another photograph with Iris and and younger boy, his own age perhaps, red head like her, gentle green eyes and a smile: must be Wally.

"Is there something wrong..." a tired moaning voice croaked snapping Jace's sensible thoughts as he dropped the picture frame to the the dresser top with a thud. The sound of the spring bound mattress bending and conforming revealed her bodily movements without him even looking, "its your day off honey...thought you'd love to sleep in for once."

Jace, hunched over the dresser that reached to his stomach level, turned to face the bed with his side, head tilted ever so slightly to catch the appearance of Iris in the glow of the sunlight which made her hair blossom despite its tangled state, "are you OK?" she questioned him as she shook her head slowly reshaping the bones to an upright position of full alertness, "Barry?" her voice broke clean as she leaned forward on the bed, invading his side, to take a closer look at the confused Jace, "is there something wrong?" she clasped to the covers pulling the bulk of the top up to cover her body, her hands coming together under her chin.

"Nothing," Jace's emotionless tone broke his silence. Taking steps backwards, he placed his right hand along the dresser and felt along its smooth surface till his left hand came into contact with the door. The awkward stare between the two of them possessing groomed an awareness of something not being entirely proper. A quick flick of his wrist unable the turning of the circular door knob probing for the door to open inward to the room. Short breaths dominated him as he pulled back on the edge of the door, wide enough for his body to stretch through the frame and out of this nightmare the room presented to him.

"Barry?" she pleaded loudly this time unable to strip her eyes from him.

A heavy gulp, one last good look and Jace was outside of the room and into a familiar environment. He brought the door to a close and leaned his back up against it, knees bent. Thoughts of multiple possibilities regarding the circumstances to his existence here began to form and develop. He brought his hand to his mouth as his eyes appeared to become teary; something was very wrong. Time Travel again, but in his sleep? Why did she call him Barry?

He looked around the area he has just entered, the main living place of the house, the familiarity of which resumed within him when he found he had been brought here before by the real Barry Allen; this was his home. A small hallway leading inward towards a door leading outside, a spacious assortment of green reflex couches, the third person longest one against the wall while three individual seats made up the square like figure with one to the adjacent side nearest to the door and two opposing the longer couch. To his right was the table, its curved edges, where Barry had brought him and Wally to sit to discuss the issues at hand when he had found himself here. While beside this set up, at the centre of the long house was the entrance way connected to the wall that stood at one side of the table with an square opening that revealed portions of the kitchen, the wooden panelled cupboards that ran around the upper regions at exact eye sight. And to his left, white doors, three of them, all leading to their individuals rooms that served their own purposes.

Jace regained his posture and stepped slowly towards the table seeking out the sliding glass doors that were placed at the outer head of the table; he ran his hand up against the glass allowing for it to stick and cause its noxious sound. Ahead, blocking out the sun, was the the horizontal brown panels of the bedroom he had left, below was a delicate stone pattern set up that stretched ahead of the door a few good feet forming a small and quaint patio. The grass was in full flourish with an large assortment of plants, red ones, bright blue one with white mixtures, that formed islands of sorts throughout the playing field; it was the ideal scene for one whom had found the absence of plant-life so incomprehensible in his own time.

He clasped his fingers together as he venture across the rugged green carpet towards the metal like door which flowed the afterthought images of the outdoor arena through the circular blurred glass that was at its top centre. The taps of his fingers where rhythmic with his steps as he came to notice a particular add onto his finger that he was just getting used to; the golden ring, the one with the lightning bolt that all Flash personnel carried with them. He came to a stop just as he reached the short ebbing hallway and pulled up his right hand carrying the ring and examined it closely. His left ventured down to his shorts and twanged the waistband that was tightly bound to his body, but he did not waver in his perception of the ring; had his costume remained in the ring when he ended up in the peculiar world? With a tap of the ring, the flowing scarlet and black suit shot out with a pop catching Jace's eyes in their illustrious blue for just a moment before the instincts that came with super speed drove him, compelled him, to fit on the uniform distributed.

The the short dark red gloves firmly attached to his forearms by two large black straps, the hard cased boots that stretched just short of his knees, the bright yellow logo enfranchised upon the black circle on the chest of the standard scarlet body suit that reached down to his waist at a triangular point allowing for his leggings to be black. He stretched out his legs, lifting his left and then to his right, flexing his fingers all through the gloves feeling its leather like structure mesh with the flesh of his hands. Conscientious of the possibility of nosing neighbours, Jace took to the familiar speed attached to the Flash legacy as he bolted out through the door, down the small rock laid steps and on the firm concrete conception of the road along the suburban street, no time to analyze what lay before him and behind, only the opportunity to look ahead at the tall structures that formed the manmade horizon line of Central City.

Cars, pedestrians, things he had never seen throughout his travels, all blurred into lines of colour and design as the speedster stepped up his terminal velocity, stretching the contours of his body to the maximum level he knew that he could reach without dissipating into the fabric of reality that the powers of the speed force kept him from. At his speed, the voices of the people were just jeers of compliments or approval as his wake resulted in the disruption of the otherwise boring episode of their life and while the the building tops, their brick laying manifestations, grew to blur into one seamless structure, there was something not quite right about this world and it wasn't just that it was a time he was less familiar with than the one he had become accustomed to living in. Up the streets he ran conveniently turning the speeding wheel bound cars into stone as he easily manoeuvred around them all the way to the Mississippi river, making his cross over to the twin city of Keystone.

The trail of water that rose behind his heels was of a pure snow white that burst into small bubbles upon reacting with the air at the extreme speed, a quick glance down at his feet, though a long second in his mind, revealed there to be a clarity that was unrecognizable in the stream of his time, a reflection visible of his being and though it was indeed him in this uniform the fact that he could see himself at all was of troublesome, the water was so terribly clean that he swore he could make out the bottom of it, the sandy features that layered the floor and up to the beachhead which too did not exist in his time. His feet bolted down together in front him with his soles just slightly above the water while he leaned back, hand positioned upward in the air to steady himself in the long stop that sent splashes of the fine water ahead of him; he looked up at the city before him incredible awe; gone were the steel and glass structures that defined the essence of the city, replaced by large block constructions made of brick and plastered with the soft coat of white and cream coloured additives to make their appearance more unique. Ledges to every building top produced delicate patterns of curves and bends which further took to the furnishings that surrounded the window sills; they were images that could only be found in a book on classic architecture. The largest of these buildings, reaching no higher than the necessary twelve stores, dotted the coastline with a one of their four corners facing outwards towards the river. A light assortment of green shrubbery surrounded the edge of the beach head further enticing the young speedster to stretch forward from his placement. His knees immediately bent, his head darted forward as the running went back into its session but only for a short moment as he came to stop upon the shore, his feet coming to sink into the sands. Bringing his body into sync with the normalcy of speed, he turned around to look upon the city he had just passed through at his blistering speed and immediately developed short held breaths and a gawking expression as he found himself witnessing a near mirror image with the only notable exception being the sun rising above the city. He raised his arms to the side of his head and bit down hard on his teeth, his logical mind breaking down finding it incomprehensible, the words in his mind, when it came to regarding this bizarre world he was in.

"It's the Flash!" Jace dropped his arms as the shrill of a young voice broke his uneasy concentration from his back side. He turned slightly to witness a young boy stumble through the shrubbery at the top of the beachhead and make his way along the sands towards him, "this is so cool!" Jace let his shoulders slump and viewed the boy awkward manner, as though he were seeing right through him. He was a plain boy, this fan, light hair, slate eyes, wearing a white shirt and jeans; he was the closest to plainness that Jace could ever comprehend anyone of being and yet that was really all he could discern of him, "what are you doing in Keystone?"

"Keystone?" Jace prodded the boy with his preponderance over confusion, "this is really Keystone...and that's" he waved a hand towards the city he had passed through and nodded his head a little to look back at its uncanny appearance, "Central City."

"Are you alright Flash sir?" the boys voice became more puzzled then excited than puzzled while physically the boys hands came to rest upon the bulbs of his waist.

"No..." Jace muttered under his breath before a proper sentence in his mind could be spoken, "I'm sorry," he looked down to the boy and attempted a smile that came across as an usual tooth filed opening, "I have to get out of here."

"But I heard the Thinker might be loose in Keystone!" The boy immediately shouted with the excitement in his voice resulting in Jace falling back in an unusual bit of horror, "aren't you here to show him what a good guy does the villain," the boy lowered his head and threw out his small clenched fists like he was in a boxing match.

"I don't know..." Jace continued in a stuttering pattern, "Kid, I've got to get moving," his head flowed around in all directions analyzing the facets of every building and the cars, though firstly seldom in number, slowly grew to dominate the streets. One last quick look at the kid in all its awkwardness, and Jace was off once more, first slowly up the sand hill leaving a small storm behind him, but with a leap over the lush green bush on the outer trim and he was back on the hard streets dodging the vehicles and whatever pedestrians might come his way.

Heart beating once every ten steps, Jace had reached his maximum level once more while traversing Keystone City never once stalling to question of any further similarities that may have existed between this such environment and the one behind him back in Central; his hief priority was to leave, to be free from these two cities and venture into the world to see how wide spread this 'cleanliness' was. "This can't be..." he spoke between deep breaths as he came to a stop. On a suburban street where houses of similar tastes only unique in colour dotted the sides of the road as Jace responded to a shocked sensibility that crept up his spine and made his legs numb. At the centre of the street he stood and looked upon a single house not too unlike the others that surrounded it; black panelled roofing that formed triangular stride over a long side of brown horizontal panels while a larger more extensive feature that stood to the left of aforementioned was small in its length but nonetheless appeared large with its particularly wall sized window with white curtains unfurled in front of it and the triangular piece of the roof facing outward towards the street. Ahead of this particular section was a long driveway comprised of small stones formed together in a concrete mixture, jutting from its side was a pathway that circled around on the grass and headed towards the door, that recognizable door at the centre of the home's two sections which he had left only minutes before to commit to his run; he had returned to Barry Allen's home.

He looked up around the streets, committing to a full three sixty turn to look upon the soft blades of grass and serene homes and came to hear only the chirping of birds as the day became more present in its early hours and although peacefully serene and possibly ideal even in his own time where this culture had already been lost, he know deep within his machine like conscience that something was terrible wrong with this street, these two twin cities, this world, it was much to clean. No matter how far he had travelled back in time, he had never encountered such a beautifully scenic existence as this one presented.

Jace found himself unable to handle it, the numbness that threatened his body became to much to bear and thus he sought to work himself straight, pulling his fingers in tight to his palms and strengthening his toes with miniscule movements in his boots, he stamped down his heels and felt the pain and power that came to him from the mystical Speed Force and he shot off like a bullet. Along the cold streets once more, now ignorant of obstacles that the civilians represented in their iron caged vehicles, Jace propelled himself further and further reaching the river and then across Keystone once more and although the world had blurred around him and the physicality of the Speed Force and its unearthly glow became more and more present in his perceptive senses, he immediately felt the urge to stop, to bring himself to the reality of normalcy and question his presence once more. A quick glance at that one building, the house that Barry Allen lived in, and right away Jace knew that there was no way he was getting out of this easy, he would have to play along for the benefit of his alleged tormentor if one existed.

Jace took a quick look around the street once more, tipping his head to look over top fences and through the windows of the other decorative houses the lined the street before he felt comfortable enough with the privacy to venture indoors in his full heroic garb. It became difficult for him to think, the slow pace now, his first steps onto the rocky pathway, while his head bowed down it quickly became evident in his short life that this was the second time he felt completely powerless. Although the time travelling capabilities of the treadmill may be operational, he swears to himself that he will never touch that power again and more importantly, with the knowledge of what this world appears to be, there is no telling where he would end up if he attempted to use it. Placing a thumb upon the pedal of the door handle, a small click sounded off as he pressed down alleviating the door socket of his closed state. He stepped inside the home, shoulders hunched, quiet and aloof.

"Where did you take off in such a hurry?" the flustered voice of Iris pierced Jace's ears. A quick glance showed her to be tying tightly to light blue bathrobe that fell just short of her knees and further exemplified her feminine figure, "the neighbours better not have seen you, I don't want to have to contemplate moving...again," Jace however choose to ignore her attempts at a proper discussion instead opting for a more pleasant footing of solitude, taking at a normal pace towards the kitchen area but coming to a stop at the head of the table facing inward, "Barry? Are you all right?"

"Shh," Jace said just audible enough for her to hear, "I need to think this through."

"You've never been one to be silent about your thoughts," Iris continued with her prodding, speaking more softly but with more concern as she approached Jace, "is there something going on that's so important that I be excluded from it?"

Jace rose his head and looked across at her, he licked his bottom lip, "no," he shook his head, "not at all...but I'm not certain if you fit in at all," his hands fell to the table to steady himself as he hunched over them resulting in the widening of Iris's eyes at the mere thought that her husband could be dealing with an immense amount of pain.

"Should I call Wally?" she spook quickly and much louder but there was no response, "whats wrong with you?"

"I don't know..." Jace muttered out followed by a deep prolonged expulsion of air. A moment of intense silence soon clouded allowing for the two to regain there thoughts, but just as Iris was beginning to form words in her mouth, the silence was struck with the sound of a ringing phone, repeating at two second intervals. Jace's head rose and looked to his right towards the shape the couches formed; the individual couch nearest to him by the front door had a small wooden structure like table right beside it with its plateau coming on par with the arm rest. Upon it was a box like cord connected phone, "will you answer it?" he spoke in the traditional monotone voice as his thoughts continued to waver seeking for the absence of any other beings in his perceptive filters.

"It's for you," Iris looked up to face Jace, clutching the receiver of the phone to her chest.

Jace pulled his head up in acknowledgement and immediately placed the fingers of his right hand underneath his cowl near his nose to pull upwards upon it revealing his all too familiar features. He pressed firmly onto the table and pushed off it allowing for his body to regain its natural form. Stepping lightly towards Iris, Jace raised his hand, extending it towards Iris to accept the phone though upon clutching the black receiver he was uncertain as to how to approach it properly, feeling blessed privately that this phone had a cord as otherwise he believed he would have great difficulty in determining which end was to be placed near his ear.

"Yes, I'll be right over." Jace spoke into the phone while a Iris, with evident fear in her face, clutched even more tightly to her robe. He pulled the phone down from the side of his head and placed it back onto the box where it was perfectly articulated to accept.

"What was it?" Iris beckoned in her weakened state of mind.

"The Central City Police Department."

"Work?" Iris questioned. She looked up at Jace from her lowered position but could not gather his gaze which appeared to aim outwards towards the glass doors at the head of the dining table.

"Work..." Jace responded firmly, "I must go see where this lead...it should be quite interesting."

* * *

"Sorry for calling you in on your day off Barry," a polite voice rang out. Jace, stepping through the double metal doors looked upon a taller man, in full officer's uniform; a dark navy blue jacket that reached down just past his waist and tied down to his chest by six buttons as well as a officers cap with a black brim that gently rose above his eyes blotting them out from full view. Jace increasingly found himself distracted by the officer's bubble like nose, "but you know how our kind of work can be."

"It is of no issue," Jace firmly responded. Respectably, he had dropped his Flash inspired costume, adopting in its place a suitable white collar shirt composed of a rough fabric which was tucked into a pair of loose fitting jeans all of which he had gathered from a convenient department store on the way over, "where is she?"

"Waiting for you in your office," the officer lifted up his strong right arm and motioned back down the hallway with his thumb. Jace nodded slightly and curved his head around the Officer's large upper body to look up the way. The floor was the checkered with black and white squares, the walls being an odd teal colouration with various doors every so often on either side with some distinctions being that of large locker systems that extended from the floor to the roof. The hallway stretched quite far downward resulting in the return of the noxious feeling in his stomach upon realization of what difficulty may await for him down the line especially as it became painfully obvious from the bright lighting system which revealed a turn down another hallway at the end of this one.

Jace waded around the officer assuming a pace of walk that appeared quite loose and at the very least nonchalant; however, when it became evident that the officer was not watching him, his legs became stiff and harder with every subsequent step, pulling the jeans up slightly to keep them upright. His head looked around the hallway searching the names of the doors and their square glass windows that proudly displayed the occupying officers first initial and last name in bold black print at the top. Quite fortunately, he came upon the B. Allen door one room short of the end of the hallway. He pressed his hand around the gold looking knob and turned it slightly till it became obvious that the door could be opened with the smallest of pushes.

For whatever reason, the office space light was not lit, instead primarily relying upon the lone window near a direct distance from the door but the daylight that would otherwise be shining through was partially blotted out by the straight blinds. He stepped inward immediately encountering a desk that ran vertical to the door. Metal shelves stacked with brown paper folders layered the walls. It was a small place but nonetheless seemed quite suitable for the working purposes of a police scientist, at least in the filing department.

In the corner of the room stood a slender woman in dark, the basic features revealed in the meagre lighting being the multi-pocketed jacket, her hands of which slipped into the two side pockets at stomach level, "Barry?" a feminine voice jumped out to him.

"Lights," Jace was quick to command as he let his hand go of the door allowing it to close properly.

"What?"

"hmm," Jace groaned as he looked back at the door, the wall space nearby where small switch lurched out from the wall. With a quick notching up, the room became illuminated revealing the tall slender figure of the woman standing before him; her raven hair that tied back into tail, her penetrating dark blue eyes and the authoritative strength in her feet, "Carol is it?" he looked up at her as he straightened his back.

"Yes," she said with a stern puzzlement. Jace barrelled down his eyes, scrunching his eyebrows at the notion that she might know just whom Barry is, "there's something wrong with Hal," she turned to pleading, "I think he used the powers of his lantern ring to steal some classified information."

"Ring?" Jace muttered to himself, "Green Lantern?"

"Yes," Carol responded sternly once more, "Are you OK?"

"Quite," Jace continued with a monotone statement, "its my day off apparently, my mind is not all together...why don't we start at the beginning and I can work it out from there."

"Alright," Carol smiled with her lips shut as she nodded slightly in affirmation, "Every so often the high military command stores some confidential files airfield, usually in transmission to get somewhere more secure but," here eyes quickly turned to look to the floor, "it seems that Hal intercepted the files in his Lantern persona..." she looked back up at Jace and assumed a more thoroughly intellectual position, "I've done everything in my power to prevent the military from pursuing the case, promising that we have the files somewhere at the base, but I could really use the help in finding Hal, you're the best hope that I can think of."

"What kind of files?"

"Technology for water control," Carol spoke with reluctance, "something about dispersing water molecules at an elevated rate with a source..." she shook her head from side to side, "I don't know a lot about it except that it could be dangerous...if someone's taken control of Hal we could all be in trouble," Jace nodded in a acknowledgement of his understanding, "I know you two are good friends, if there's anyone that can stop him...save him...then it would be you." Jace simply groaned as silence enveloped the room, "Please Barry, we need your help."

"Alright," Jace threw out his hand approvingly, "do you have any idea where he might have gone?"

"I was planning to go to his home in Coast City, but I'm a little frightened for myself going alone, especially since I can't bother with calling help from one of my own because they'll recognize Hal and expose him..."

"Easily solved then. Take one of my guys then, they certainly won't know Hal Jordan. I need to stop back at home for a minute...let the accompany officer know to call me when you find something and I'll be in Coast City within the hour."

* * *

Jace stepped inside Barry Allen's home for what he would hope to be his last time. Within mere feet of the door he encountered the hostile tone of voice present in a young, and familiar, speedster like himself, "Barry!" Jace's glare shot down the movement of a character whom stood to him at a similar height; the boys fiery red hair that laid flat upon his long face with green eyes that matched those of Iris whom stood nearby now fully clothed in something more a standard to persons of this world, "What's happening?" the boy continued to plead with concern from the centre of the living space. Jace came on par with him instantly allured by the boys red t-shirt which emblazoned a Flash logo upon it.

"Barry," Iris, standing beside the younger speedster with her hands firmly around her waists, spoke with eloquent concern as she had done early this morning when Jace had first puzzled her, "you have to explain what's wrong, your scaring us?"

"Scaring you?" Jace spat back with sips of sarcasm and a smirk which blew off some internal steam, "I'm surprised I've been able to keep it all together within the last few hours."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Iris dropped her intimidating posture and stepped closer to the edge of the hall way leading to the door where Jace wobbled on his toes with a hand clutching his forehead.

"I'm not Barry Allen," Jace's hand dropped, "and yes, I'm serious," he looked the two family members directly attempting to convey the message as clearly as possible, "I'm not certain as to what happened yet, but I need time to figure it out."

"What?" the boy looked upon Jace with a scrunched eyebrows, "then who are your?" he stuttered to get out of his mouth.

Jace nodded his head while looking at the hall way wall, he clutched his stomach with both his hands as he prepared himself mentally for any form of backlash he might incur, "I'm Jace Allen," he looked up at both of them as he did before with his conveyed seriousness, "I'm a relative of Barry yes, a direct descendant in fact from your line, but I don't exist for another six hundred years...at least I think so...I'm having difficulty concentrating."

"What are you doing here?" Iris bellowed, "In his body?"

"I don't know," Jace quickly retorted, "It's become apparent that when anyone sees me they're seeing Barry Allen, but when I look at myself I do not see any difference in who I really am...I fear you may just be seeing an illusion...or..."

"Or what?" Wally spoke up, hands clasped together under his chin with a mind growing with increasing concern.

"Or you might just be all the illusions I've created."

"How does that work?" Iris prodded, "you're from the future then...why would any of this...of us, matter to you?"

"Because I've been here before..." Jace looked upon the boy and examined him more thoroughly recognizing the base essence of his character, "Wally, do you remember when I came here, I was young speedster, around your age and I needed to use Barry's cosmic treadmill."

But despite what Jace was hoping for, Wally shook his head negatively, "I don't remember that ever happening...no. I certainly would remember someone wanting to use the treadmill."

Jace reverted back to a silent mode allowing for his thoughts to recollect. Iris and the young Wally looked upon him with some contempt unable to fathom how they had lost Barry to this imposter, this body snatcher whom claimed to be someone they had before and yet they do not recall anything of him, "It's a possibility," Jace opened up, "that this is different world that I've been brought into...one with a linear perspective..." he pulled up his right hand and shook a fist triumphantly.

"A what?" Wally questioned with his assumed puzzlement.

"A linear path, like a story," Jace continued with enthusiasm creeping in on his every word, "this morning, I tried to leave Keystone but every time I did so I always ended back in Central City where I first started...like I couldn't leave. It was like I had something to do here...something to complete...the moment I returned here I got a phone call to come to the station where Carol Ferris told me to hunt down Green Lantern..."

"I don't think I like where this is going," Iris commented but only interrupted Jace for a mere moment.

"At first I thought I would come here as a distraction, a detour in the course of events where I would perhaps have this epiphany about how to get free from this nightmare."

"Nightmare?" Wally proceeded to question once more.

"But, maybe I have to complete the story...I have to turn Green Lantern in for justice..." Suddenly a phone ring broke the developing tension in the atmosphere of the room. All three of the occupying heads turned sharply to look at the black cord connected phone that sat pleasantly on top of the small desk near the individual seated couch, "I bet you that's for me," the phone continued to ring, "Carol has found Green Lantern somewhere...and now I can leave this city to pursue him..."

Iris proceeded to pick up the phone blindly, never taking her eyes from Barry's alleged imposter. With the receiver clipped to the side of her head "hello?" she spoke softly into it, "yes one moment." She rose up, straightened her back, and held out the receiver to Jace with trembling in her hand, "your right."

Jace took a deep breath as he collected the phone from her, never touching her hand in the transaction, he stepped closer as he placed the receiver to his ear, "what have you got for me?"

'We've found him,' a voice barrelled through the static of the classic phone apparatus, 'corner him at Coast City Hotel on Granville...Carol wants you here pronto...'

"Tell her I'm on my way..." Jace let the device slip from his ear and down to his stomach before placing it back on the holder with a tap, "the story must go on."

"Maybe I should go with you?" Wally stepped up closer with a wide eyed glare.

"No," Jace firmly responded, "I don't know where you fit into the puzzle...I don't know if any one of you do...I have to handle this on my own if I'm going to bring Barry back..."

"And you better!" Iris shouted lightly as he clasped her lips together tightly. Jace looked upon her with some mild fear, a sympathy that he had never felt before as he came to realize the important of Barry within the woman's life.

"I'll bring him back..."

* * *

"So where is he then?" Jace burst through the hotel's glass panneled doors, reaching through the small entrance where plain grey lockers two feet in height, stacked on top of one another reaching from the floor to the ceiling. Entrenched in a small cubicle was a older gentleman in a suit sans jacket, preferring the brown vest over the straight blue tie. The man, the dark features of his pudgy face and a crow of white hair radiating in the glancing sunlight through the doors, leaned over the counter to glance across the a the lone door at the other end of the entrance way where Carol, and a rather hurt and disgruntled police officer stepped out of.

A look of disgust was upon the officer's face as he attempted to regain his footing in the presence of Allen but was forced to settle on placing his hands on his bent knees and wheezing deeply, "he went up the stairs...broke right through the wall," a look of evident disgust came upon the clerk as he turned to Jace but even in then he had the feeling that the clerk was more shocked than anything, "shot something right through the door, his hand? How is that even possible...?" the officer moaned out between hard breaths, "broke a night table on me."

"You're a bit late for someone whose so fast," Carol spoke up as he grew to a close proximity to Jace whom continued to scan the officer and the surrounding area for any noteworthy clues. "He was acting really weird Barry..." she whispered quietly as she glanced back at the confused clerk, "he kept claiming that he wasn't Hal..."

Jace inhaled deeply and raised his chin up in the process, "really?"

"Someone really must have worked a number on his head..." Carol narrowed her eyes on Jace's as he looked back to her, "he didn't have the plans with him any more...he doesn't even know about them..." she nodded with dissatisfaction, "but that just means he's already passed it off to someone else...we're still in trouble here."

"I bet," Jace raised a hand up to cup his chin and proceeded to consider all the options available to him.

"What should we do now?" Carol spoke with the emotional uneasiness that resulted from the possible loss of her close friend and confidant.

"Gather some more officers and take to the streets," Jace stated with his monotone, completely ignorant of the feelings that Carol now possessed, "it might be able to catch him when he powers down."

"What are you going to do then."

"Follow him as Flash, there's something more to this case than just brainwashing; I'm sorry," he spoke with his clean edge but hoped that it would be taken with some sincerity to alleviate her current state of mind, "but I think I might be best if I just observe him for now...shouldn't take me to long to catch onto him...we'll try to corner him back here!"

"Here? Why?"

"You, clerk," Jace leaned around Carol and caught the attention of pudgy man behind the counter whom in turned looked over the counter top to get a good look at Jace, "there was a man here, Hal Jordan, you remember him when he checked in?" the pudgy man nodded his head in compliance of an affirmative, "good, could you please notify his colleagues here when he returns...they'll pay for any damages done."

"But why would he come back here...?" Carol intruded.

"If I'm right...he'll have nowhere else to go," Jace locked eyes with her, "leave your information at the table with him and be on your way...try to find him on foot if possible."

"That'll never work," she pleaded in a sarcastic tone, "he'll found a way out of anything we try."

"I know, but someone needs to be applying pressure on him, he has to feel the necessity to come back here."

* * *

"I got on to your trail when you came into conflict with the Thinker."

"How strange," Iota rose up from his sitting position and scratched his back side while stretching out his other arm, rotating it on its socket, "I don't suppose you know who punched me then?"

"Yes," Interval solemnly replied, "are you searching for an apology on that?"

"Maybe," Iota exhausted himself of the pent up steam within, "now I know how your gloves feel against my face..."

"Had to be certain that we were both in the same predicament," Interval continued in his intellectual rant, "although I have to say the real clinch was your discussion with yourself outside the department store window...you sure talk to yourself a lot."

"I think best out loud..." Iota sought words to defend himself, "so lets just ignore my eccentricities for now and focus on the task at hand; how do we get home?"

"From what I understand of linear story telling, it would probably be most beneficial for us to seek an end to this story which I suppose would entail clearing the name of Hal Jordan regarding those top secret files he stole under the control of The Thinker."

"Well, that doesn't seem so hard, lets deal with it now..."

"It's also a possibility that this story is an ongoing one," Interval stammered out bring Deryck's line of thinking to an abrupt stop.

"Oh great, now what does that mean?" Deryck pleaded.

"It could be that even if we achieve this 'simple' objective, then the story just moves on to something else, a new story with new characters and villains...very must like the real adventures of Barry Allen and Hal Jordan..."

"What?" Deryck snapped his head straight with confusion, "Hal Jordan was real?"

"One of the first Green Lanterns of Earth...I thought for certain someone like yourself would be aware of that as I am familiar with my own families past..."

"Well no," Deryck tapped his toes into the ground as he attempted to regain strength in his tired muscles, "to be frankly honest with you, I'm kind of new to this whole thing...I haven't even received the call up to the guardians to discern whether I deserve to have the ring in the first place...and judging from this incident, I'm thinking they'll have no problems with stripping me of it."

"That would be a great shame on their part," Interval quickly responded to the proposed notion, "from what I witnessed with your encounter with The Thinker's machine and your deductive reasoning of this reality, I believe you are more than able to handle your own in a battle and within your mentality."

"Well it's nice to have a fan," Deryck said happily with sarcasm.

"And to be honest with you myself, I am quite new to this life as well, and although I've experience much in my short time, I'd not to quiet about contemplating doubt when it arises about my abilities."

"You're telling me," Deryck resonated with dissatisfaction as he raised up his ring hand, "thought this ring could take on a guy who runs fast without much problem...totally wrong."

Jace nodded in acceptance of the compliment provided, then abruptly turned to start taking steps towards the barn door, "its best we started moving quickly...I've had about enough of this place."

"Yeah, that's another thing? Were you able to leave Coast City after you entered it?" Deryck picked up his feet and proceeded to follow Interval towards the door.

"Not exactly," Jace placed his hand on horizontal wooden beam that held the vertical holding wood panels together that comprised the door and pushed lightly upon it feeling it creak lightly, he looked back slightly at Iota, "this place was only difference I could find..."

"Yeah, I must say," Iota wobbled his head around looking upward at the curved roofing and the beams that outlined the inner barn holding upon them the roof and a balcony above, "this is nothing like I saw in Coast City...its dirty...its more normal save for the fact that its a barn; haven't seen one of these old things in years...what is it?"

Jace pushed the solid door open curving on its hinges, shining dust particles into the air along with the noxious noise that results from an old door being opened, "the Kent Farm...as to why its here, I am not certain...perhaps a part of another story that we're not full realizing yet."

"Cool," Iota commented as he came on par with Interval. They stared out momentarily at the ranch that they had taken solace in, the sky was a delicate glow, with the lightest of black weaving in around the clean stars that brightly shined upon them giving ample lighting for the scenic appearance they had now attended. A fence running along their left, painted white but now chipping away to its rustic brown, connected from the barn to a short distance down where a large single floor farm house stood maintaining the ascetic appeal of a more nobler simple time; dark and seemingly empty, there was no one home. Further along their left side, blocked by the fence were open fields of long grass that swayed lightly in the breeze over top of the hills and dirt foundations, the boys could not help but stare and admire what they had come across.

"Shouldn't take us to long to get back to the airfield..." Interval finally interrupted the moment reaching for a pass as his feet started to pick up energy of speed that propelled him down the deep trodden path that ran alongside with fence.

"Alright," Iota broke away his vision from the gentle glass and allowed for the emerald force powered by his lantern to engulf his body and raise him upward from the ground, floating, then flying as he flattened his body and reached out his fists to dive towards the distant Interval whom had already reached on par with the farm house up ahead, "what exactly is our plan?"

"Carol will be at the airfield...she'll know where they took the Thinker."

"Yeah, who is this guy?"

"High level telepath," Interval shouted back his response over his shoulder, "powers developed through technological gains...perfect adversary for the two of us to handle. We'll need him to clear your name and finish the story."

"Hal's name..."

* * *

Interval burst through the double doors pressing onward to get inside the lone prison wing at the Ferris airfield, "Hal? Your back?" Carol's voice rang out as Deryck, dressed up in the uncomfortable blue suit and brown leather shoes stepped in from behind Interval.

"I've come to clear the name of Hal Jordan," Interval quickly stated as he came to a stationary position within the prison complex. Deryck shuddered as he saw the black iron bars that circled out from the cinder block walls. The prison wing of the complex airfield had been brightened up with the red light in an off position but nonetheless produced a shining glow that Deryck's eyes magically caught on to as he paced forward, uncomfortably, inwards towards the cage. The glistening grey cinder bricks that comprised the walls further exemplified what a dreary place this would be locked in. Immediately to their left was a counter that squared off against the wall, Carol pressed off from its top to greet to two intruders, "Carol?"

"Hal? Have you got your mind back...?" Carol reached out her hands sympathetically, attaching them to Deryck's shoulder's and clutching down on them hard. She attempted to get a clear look into his eyes but Deryck bowed his heads and shook his shoulder's a slight bit resulting in Carol losing her grasp and resulting in her feigning from him in shame.

"Not exactly," Deryck said as calmly as possible attempting to muster up the strength to prevent empathy from taking away the best of him.

"Carol," Interval interrupted the conflicting forces, "we don't have much time to explain, we need to establish a connection between the The Thinker and Hal Jordan...close up all the loose ends."

"Well then it's a good thing you came here first..." Carol started.

"Where are the authorities keeping him?" Interval interrupted.

"Keeping him?" she looked upon the two of them shocked, "he escaped no more than two hours after you had taken him down in Coast City."

"Escaped?" Deryck scoffed at the idea, "he took a pounding in that cage of his...there was no way he was getting out of there..." his voice trailed off as the sudden impact of the alternative notion came back to him, "its an ongoing tale."

"Possibly," Interval responded turning his partner from Carol.

"What are you two talking about?" Carol attempted to break into their company but was met with cold shoulders as the two headed back for the doorway.

"This may be just an extension of the current story," Interval attempted to reconcile the state.

"This should have ended right then and there, when I punched the sucker into the river," he looked away from his new found friend as he pushed onto the metal bar that opened the door back into this fictional world's environment, severe distaste clambered on to his lips, "this is never going to end is it?"

"Then we'll just have to search alternative means of bringing it to an end."

"Where should we start?"

"Where else but only city we can stay in? Coast City."

Carol watched in puzzlement as the two heroes, friends that she believed she knew, stepped out of the prison wing talking and jeering over dialogue that she'll never be able to fully comprehend; for her, the quest to find her boyfriend Hal Jordan had ceased to be a realistic objective when he, at least in the most physical of senses, walked out those doors.

* * *

Panic screams of the plentiful stock of human civilians rang through the air instantly drawing the two heroes out from their respective positions to investigate the source of the panic brewing. "What's going on here?" Iota came to stop in his flight, finally catching up to his much quicker colleague Interval, whom had come to a abrupt stop at the centre of slightly flooded street way leading towards the long endless river, "how is that even possible," the young lantern tipped his head up and dropped his mouth open as he came to witness the wall of water, its darkness and its hatred fuming, reaching taller than the buildings all around them but never once coming into contact with them; a wall composed of the rivers water had sprouted up on the meagre beachheads blocking all view, all contact, with the world on the other side, held back by an invisible wall "alright so what do we do now..." his head swivelled while his body hovered around the streets looking onward at the people whom had abandoned their twisted vehicles and took to cowering on building steps and passing doors, anything to get away from the inevitability of the this invisible wall collapsing to flood into the street and wipe them clean from it, "gotta put up a wall!"

"No Wait," Interval attempted to wave down his cohort but found himself much too late as the stream of green light bolted up into the air, reaching for the tops of the building, ring arm strong and stretched outward prepared to make its saving grace known. Interval, when his new friend was lost to him, stepped around in a small circle, head raised and analyzing all the people and their forms of transportation which had been brought to a stop at indecent places on the roadway. Their faces were sullen and scared, not one brave soul having stepped forward to witness the majestic appearance of this deep wall of water which blended perfectly with the star less skies that became dominate with the clouds of wrath, no others souls but one.

Iota, higher than the nearest building tops looked along the wall more clearly, following its lining and indentation into the shores of Coast City where it effectively divided the city from its other half, attempts to figure out this impossibility by physical matters proved futile even from his vantage point; the higher he went the more difficult it became to see an ending in the wall, the ceiling of which appeared to be the black covered skies and even further, "I have to do something at least..." he hovered down to the tallest building, a perfect stone construction where he proceeded to step along its hard black tar roofing towards the two foot high ledge that ran around its perimeter. His right foot raised and planted itself on the ledge as he brought his ring hand forward and prepared to extend his will power to the strongest extent. A shock of energy burst free from the top of the circular lantern ring, aimed entirely at the wall ahead of himself but rather than pierce through the impossibility that was this watery foundation, the Lantern constructed a barrier, a dam of sorts to the relief of all whom were watching. It was bulky and thick, reaching from the ground floor and upward what he felt was a few kilometres but as he pressured onward to make it go further beyond the wall of water he quickly discovered that his dam grew increasingly smaller, indenting towards him. Sweat fell down the sides of his cheek as he felt the pressure of being so young and temperamental with the most powerful weapon in the universe at his disposal and not being able to use it effectively, "I won't be able to contain it all when it collapses!" he shouted but to no avail in reaching his colleague as a familiar metal clanking sound made itself known.

Iota body shook with every pulsating movement of the the Thinker's metal contraption, the smashing of the three prong metal claws sharpening through the soft stones that comprised the building he was standing on. His heart began to race as he saw the circular popped up head of metal beast reach up past the top and seemingly narrowed down its visual receptors on the young hero, "that's new" he quickly commented to himself as he came to witness the yellow hues of the machine as it moved towards the centre of the street.

"Lantern!" the Thinker bellowed out from the machine once again leaving a permanent face resonating within the young heroes head, "you will not defeat me!" A claw propped itself on the ledge, its three sharp prongs cutting away just a foot short of where Iota's leg stretch out over top. It became plainly obvious to him that this was the furthest hand of the mechanized creature as its long spanning chested body continued to move forward around the building to the street, it bent down on its tentacle like legs, curving on every interval of metal binds that comprised it, its head seemingly turning to examine the street and whatever occupied it, "and you've brought my scarlet rival! What a blessing!" the shouts became more maniacal, stretching to extreme joyousness on the behalf of the Thinker believing himself to have the upper hand in the battle waiting to commence. The clanking body shot back up to its full strength, "how long do you think your shield will hold?"

"Long enough to defeat you!" Iota shouted back as suddenly he felt his hand feel unsteady; the pressure of the water seemed to come upon the dam he had forged from his own will power.

"Then try your best Lantern, I have longed for the death of your friend," suddenly the invisible wall that held the water broke free lashing out its waves at the side of the dam where it could not protect it. Iota looked on in a panic as he saw the water creeping in on the sides, high volumes of the liquid substance that shot down into the city breaking the building tops and smashing in to the roads, "come on!" he shouted to himself working all his will power into keeping at least this street clean from the tremendous force that the source of life, water, would have upon the people and his new found friend below. Sweat poured, his feet turned to mush, all while he attempted to tense the muscles in his body to keep the damn from collapsing, to keep his mind focused on the lone objective just long enough for his quick friend to work out a plan to defeat their collective foe.

"And then this is where Green Lantern reaches into the very deep recesses of his consciousness and pulls out all his will strength to push that wave back into the river and take the Thinker right with it!"

The youth filled voice broke Iota concentration just long enough for him to look over his shoulder and view before him that familiar plain face that had seemingly been following him, taunting him, available when all trouble broke loose, "that kid!"

"What are you doing here?" Interval turned his back from the wall and looked upon the plain boy, his perfectly clean white shirt and those jeans; the darkness of the sky above appeared to do little as the boy appeared to glow as though the unseen sun was glowing upon him with massive ferocity.

"I came to watch my two of my favourite superheroes save the day!" the boy excitedly responded bending his knees and pulling hands into little fists, "this is so rad!"

"You just can't expect us to play along with your little games..."

The boy suddenly brought up his bottom lip and snarled at Interval, "Your my toys, you'll do as your instructed!"

The sound of sharpening claws against stone caused Interval to turn and face the dam that Iota had built as a protective force but instantly his eyes were drawn upon that of a mechanical creation that dominated the street form with its free claw flapping across the street screaming upward against one building breaking its foundations of brick and the panes of glass before ramming across to the other side breaking in to the same assortment of damage all of which left the young speedster unphased. A scream, followed by panic running ensued as people left the buildings and made distance for the city's back side away from the Thinker, away from the dam of protection that saved them from certain doom. He turned once more back to the boy, "you should know that my lantern friend won't be able to hold that wall up long enough to save the city..."

"Don't worry," the boy spoke sternly placing his hands on his waist and assuming a strong smirk of superiority, "all you gotta do is do what you do best, let me handle the clean up..." then he peaked up in his shrill happy voice and smile, "I can't wait to do this all again!"

"You will die this day Flash!" the Thinker's machine boasted once more as its claw reached closer to the paved cement of the road tearing up shreds of his composition thereby leaving its mark, but the Speedster stood there, no fear in his eyes and yet no willingness to proceed to armaments either.

And so the moment came, that special moment to determine the outcome of this lone battle. The colliding claw of the Thinker's monstrosity reached ever so closely to Interval, but he stood there, looking upon it, a face of stone unmoving in any facet of his being. Then suddenly he threw his arms out to his sides, palms at waist level and looked up at the metal hide of the monster barrelling towards him as he found the calm monotone word he was searching for: "OK."

"Interval man," Iota shouted out as loud as he could, "What are you doing? I can't hold this thing forever!"

"Come on lantern, you can do this where your friend fails," the voice of the boy continued to press upon him. Within short notice, Iota felt the boy over top his shoulder, his hands firmly creeping up his sides, "you can be the hero today!"

"Shut up!" He yelled out before biting his teeth down.

"What are you doing Flash?" the boy on the street proceeded to prod at Interval's backside.

"Kid, I am not the Flash..." Interval retorted without once breaking posture to turn and face the boy down, "I'm no hero of yours...and I sure as hell am not going to play for no one!"

"You can't give up!" the boys voice grew louder and menacing as if a feral nature had engulf his essence, "I'll destroy this city, take the lives of millions if you do not play along."

"You sound very sinister for someone whom treats superheroes like gods..." Interval reached deeply into a sarcastic tone he was unaccustomed to, "there's only one way to end a heroes story...death! And I embrace it openly!" he closed his eyes and pulled his head back raising his hands above his head in anticipation of the oncoming storm.

"I Can't hold it any longer!" Iota shouted as the cracks within the dam, the whiteness that defined the unearthly green glow, became all that more noticeable as the details of his construction became absent resulting in a simple sheet of green energy between them and certain death...but all was lost as the cracks became too much to bear and the will of the young lantern gave in; the wall collapsed and the storming flood of water was upon them in seconds. Although difficult to make out, Iota looked below to the streets and swore he could hear the laughter of the speedster as he took the destructive power of waves head on.

* * *

"Well this is certainly different," Iota spoke in a eloquent joking manner, "I'll take the fake Coast City over this any day."

"Patience..." Interval quickly responded, "Someone's brought us here for a purpose."

The two heroes found themselves standing upon a rock, if it could be called that, a large boulder of a light purple hue that was only large enough to support their beings. The universe around them, for that was what it was, consisted of simple lights, stars in the far off distance that shone perfectly through the emptiness of space, "I mean how are we even breathing...space sucks like a vacuum doesn't it?"

"I don't exactly think we're in space," Interval looked down to his feet as he kicked them into the asteroid kicking up a small storm of dust that reacted accordingly to the gravity that he was comfortable with, "the laws here are fine...I wouldn't advise jumping though."

"Why couldn't you just play along," the angry voice of the boy suddenly spike their interest. In the distance the two heroes watched as a small swirling cloud of dust particles reached up to them; a small galaxy like entity that was above them, "I was having so much fun!"

"You just can't expect that people would just play along, not after you've kidnapped them," Interval looked up towards the galaxy formed entity admiring for a brief moment its lighting up with every word that it spoke.

"But it's not fair...I made this world for you...its your adventures!"

"That's not us," Iota stepped forward, "I don't even know who Hal Jordan is..."

"You were admiring relics of another time...although I doubt even their worlds were as clean as the one you fabricated for us."

"We must apologize," Iota and Interval jumped in shock as they heard even more of a thunderous voice appear from behind them, "for the actions of our son, we were unaware that he would pull up sentient figures." The two heroes turned around and saw before them two larger mixtures of gas and particles that glistened into their galaxy like formations, "he is young and temperamental at times."

"Now son," a lighter, yet still strong, voice bellowed out from the other second mixture formation that shone a bright red at its centre with every word, "you must go to your room now."

"Yes, mother," the sad voice of the boy returned as it dissipated into thin air leaving the two heroes baffled for words.

"We had given him some stories to him," the evident father with his commanding voice spoke out, "stories about great heroes from a parallel universe to yours, it was no harm at first but we underestimated the boys powers...he must have grown bored so quickly that he sought out new variables for a fuller experience..."

"We apologize for not discovering this much sooner, it was his violent outburst that got our attention," the soft glow of the mother radiated upon the two humans as they stood in awe of the gods atop of them.

"I hope that you will accept this apology," the father continued, "and to remedy this incident a simple wish granted to you whatever that may be."

"Accepted," Iota quickly blurted out immediately with unhinged glee.

Interval however took the moment to scratch his head moving the pressed down hair around his cowl piece, "I accept it, not like we have much choice..." he dropped his hand and shirked his shoulders, "I guess all we'd really like is to go home," he turned his head up to look at the approval in Iota eyes.

"You are by far some of the most nobler creatures we have encountered from your world," the father complimented them, "I am most impressed that our son would have held you in such esteem...I shall grant you such a request."

A jolt to senses shook the core of the two heroes as suddenly they felt the universe, its stars, the lone asteroid they stood upon and the gods above them suddenly turned to black without warning. Pain or pleasure, they were uncertain of either feelings as the felt themselves tossed around in this darkness unable to control its path or ending.

* * *

"Please tell me this is earth..." Iota questioned his cohort, "This is our earth right?"

"It looks as much..." Interval replied with a less than normal enthusiasm associated with a person returning to his base of existence. The two heroes, firmly on the ground of which they found so cumbersome, look out across the short grass field, out across a river and the more so grassier hills that preceded it where trees roamed freely.

"Hmm," Iota moaned out, "this looks a lot like Coast City...you know save for the buildings, roads and child gods..." he looked to Interval with a smile but he was not amused by the Lantern's deduction.

"This is Coast City," Interval firmly responded, "well it was."

Deryck's eyebrows scrunched up, his hands becoming limp at his sides, "what do you mean?" he stuttered out.

"I thought this whole experience was unusual because of it..." Interval turned from the river and looked Iota in the eyes attempting to gain some realization amongst their confusion, "Coast City was destroyed decades ago...it hasn't been on a map in several years."

"What?" Deryck said in shock.

"Hal Jordan went mad just trying to rebuild it..." Interval looked back to the river and admired the moon as it cascaded its image along the small ripples of water, "I knew I had read about this place when I first arrived in this time, I didn't know how to rationalize it when we were in that kid's world..." he shook his head, "it's an open park now..."

A moment of silence passed as the two heroes looked out together at the expanse of the river, the swaying trees in the light breeze, and the blades of grass, so plentiful, that dominated the ground, "guess someone wasn't happy that we jumped to the conclusion of the story...although you know we probably could have wished for something a little more than just a return trip home," Deryck's voice intruded upon the moment but resulted in good graces as Interval raised his head upward with a smile holding back a laugh, "Either way, I hope we don't have to ever deal with a god child again..."

"Yeah," he looked at Iota and nodded his head slightly up and down, "I hope not also."

"Excellent," Deryck stretched out his hand which Interval accepted, smiling in approval of their new partnership.


	14. Young Justice Beyond 2 Part 1

Young Justice Beyond #2  
Volume 1. Story 2.  
The Kid's Dreams Have Come True! (Part 1)

* * *

"Todd?" the loud cry of the young blonde heroine penetrated to the upstairs area, "you're going to be late," Cassie's head curved around the kitchen entrance way looking up the short blue carpeted staircase to the platform above, "come on, my mom would never let me be this late."

"I'm going, I'm going," the normally sweet voice of the young boy bounced around the hallway coming across in a disgusting matter. Todd stood at the centre of the hallway, he pulled tightly upon the bright blue jacket edges bringing them close till they had come to stick through the seven thick rectangular magnetic buttons that reached down from the neck to halfway down his thighs. Shaking off anxiety with a jerking action, Todd proceeded to place his hands on the black straps of a thin and circular laptop carrying backpack and made his first couple of steps towards the end of the hallway and down the stairs.

"Awesome!" Cassie shouted as Todd suddenly became confused and disoriented as a flash bang grenade seemingly went off a mere foot in front of him resulted in checkered like patterns in his view regardless of whether his eyes were open or closed. His steps became jumbled as he fell slightly down the stairs dropping his grasp on the straps of the backpack and placing them in defence mode as he came down hard on the smooth wooden floor at the bottom of the staircase. Todd looked back up at the door frame leading into the kitchen area as his backpack slowly slipped from his back to the floor with the rest of his body. With what strength was in his hands after the crash, he pushed himself upward as though he was doing his early morning pushups once more. Slightly above him and leaning in the door frame was the tall and slender blonde woman in full lawyer black garb, that white cotton blouse and pristine black dress pants, whom Todd had come to understand as his current caregiver; she held in her hand a rectangular device with a circular piece protruding from the centre. She appeared to be analyzing the other side device when a smile came to her face, "my mom always used to take pictures of me on my first days of school."

"That's," Todd said as he cracked his knees into place while regaining his posture, "interesting..."

"Alright, well," Cassie stated with her consistent smile as she let the camera in her hand slip to her side, "I suspect you'll be having quite a fun day."

Todd shook with minimal enthusiasm, "why do I need to go to school," he pulled his right hand to his chin in a questioningly yet sarcastic manner, "last chance to prevent me from leaving your company," Todd bowed his head and looked up at her with hunched eyebrows, "I know my line of work here, I don't need these social institutions."

"It's not all about knowing and meeting people," Cassie said as she drew herself closer to Todd and bowed down to him face to face so that her shade baby blue eyes came to conflict with his crystal blue hue of his own. She patted him lightly on the head, "its also about what you can learn for yourself and that's these schools provide," she turned about face and headed back into the kitchen area, "I hope you know where you're going,"

"Yeah no problem," Todd said pulling a blue thin lined rectangular device from his pocket and began heading towards the door opposing the entrance way into the kitchen, "got it all on my mobile."

"Alright then, so I'll see you when you get home."

"Alright! I'll go!"

* * *

Todd let out a long withheld sigh, "am I the blue dot?" he turned his head upward and looked in both directions. He saw to his the right the semi-commercial indented community, high rise town housing with linoleum siding that created the illusion of standard brick formations giving off the aesthetic quality of classical tastes. On the adjacent side where Todd made his presence known to the clean etched sidewalk was not much different only contrary to the illusion brick design were instead designs of wooden panels creating a secondary illusion effect which portrayed this housing to be much larger than its neighbours albeit while remaining in actuality one floor shorter, "I'm not really lost though am I?" Todd questioned himself letting his hand holding the computerized map to his side while his head bowed in disappointment, "I don't really belong in those places anyway," he said with a logical deduction on the horizon, "I came here to be the hero..." his voice grew in strength as he crushed his hands together with the hand held computer within the clasping. He became shocked momentarily when he realized this and nearly came to drop the device when he quickly pulled his hands apart.

"Do you need help?" a soft voice came in from behind throwing off Todd's training of absent mindedness, "you look...kind of lost."

Todd hunched his shoulders over till they had risen beyond the lower arch of his head, an increased look of grimace came across his face as he examined the shadow over top his shoulder blocking the sunlight from reaching its goal of illuminating his way to the school building, "curved figure, good bone structure, nearly my height despite shadow differentiation," Todd began to mumble to himself in a mocking gesture, "a girl..." his head rose as his eyes began to squint, "I'm not lost," Todd spoke up and moved his shoulders in a circular pattern to loosen up.

"Really?" the soft voice turned to a sarcastic tone, Todd watched as the arm portions of the shadows fell into the primary figure of darkness, "cause I'm quite certain your trying to get to the heights..."

"Oh, is that what they call it," Todd responded with disgust.

"Well good," her arms seemed to drop, "I'd be honoured to help you."

Todd began to feel the lingering presence over his shoulder which with it was attached a great sense of paranoia that the boss was watching him as he relented his need for help. He turned around to face her and followed up on the usual deduction of her physical characteristics. She stood at just over five feet coming on par with the paranoid boy whom became startled when he examined her face; her thin blue eyes darkened by well strung lashes, short side swiping blond hair, near flawless skin and circular face which brought all the features together so that she always appeared to be symmetrical. This of course led to one sound conclusion, "Cassie has followed me," Todd turned away from her as the comment came to his lips, "but how in all this?" he looked back her and noticed her turned head and consequent puzzled look, "magic!" his eyes lifted up, "no, she's not her! How could it be?"

"Are you OK?" she beckoned as she now found herself frozen in her position.

"I'm fine," Todd clasped the straps of his backpack and pulled them forward as he straightened his back and turned to face her with his beautiful smile, "and I suppose not afraid to admit I don't really understand where I am or where I am going," his vision wavered from her to the surrounding atmosphere of people walking dogs and middle class vehicles zipping by.

"Well that's fine," she paused to collect herself, "I guess," she let out a small smirk. She wore a purple zip up hooded sweater and dark pants that clasped tightly around her legs sharing every curve on the way down to her large fully looking purple shoes with white soles and highlights. She pulled to her side the oval violet back pack and pulled tightly on the singular strap that wrapped around one of her shoulders and down under the opposing arm, "why not just follow me, I'll get you there in no time," she smiled and tilted her head in a jerking motion insinuating it as being in his best interests to follow her. She turned around in the opposite direction of which Todd was facing and walked off slowly.

Todd stood motionless for a second staring blankly at her, "I hate..." he started but couldn't work up the muscle to finish the statement. Realizing it was to his best advantage, he came to follow her making small steps at first but quickening up his pace to get on par with her.

"You must be new," she turned her head back slightly to take a look at him as he came on par, "you from somewhere outside of town?"

Todd looked away from her becoming numb in his mouth, "I suppose...I'm from Gotham."

"Heh, wow," she stated with a slight sign of interest, "I suppose I'm from Gotham also, though yeah..." she nodded her head in approval as she pulled up on the strap to keep the baggage level and comfortable against her side, "I was ten when we moved out of there...just got a bit too dangerous," she let out a sigh before looking towards Todd who had resumed his gaze forward, "that why you left...?you know if you don't mind me asking?"

"Ah no, I just needed a change I guess," his eyes bounced, "moved in with my aunt just before summer."

The two of them turned into a small alley way between two town housing structures circling around the pipe metal fences that took up half sides each and were spaced from one another by nearly a metre. Looking down only protruded the sides of the buildings and panelled wooden fences at head height leading the way down to an intersection of more passing inset alley ways, "so, you got a name?"

"It's Todd," he responded but kept looking down at the clean cement ahead of him.

"Avril," she came to notice his disposition, "been going to this school for quite some time now; someone as good looking as yourself should get along just fine once you've found the right niche."

"Yeah," Todd giggled a little and turned his gaze upward, 'she sure wants to prod for some more important details,' Todd began to think to himself remembering a distant moment with Mr. Wayne during the early stages of his training.

"There needs to be a differentiation between your life as public and your personal life," Mr. Wayne's voice began in the deep and seriousness that has become accustomed to his demeanour, "you can build up a public through various means, you may even establish a few friendships, it is important simply because the people in your sphere can be drawn upon as resources; whatever person, no matter how seemingly small, can be the vital clue to an operation."

"It was just your name..." Avril voice echoed some sarcasm.

"What?" Todd gawked as Avril as he lost his footing resulting in the uneven steps along the cement.

"You've been mumbling to yourself for the last couple of seconds...you sure you're alright?"

"Oh sorry," Todd's head bowed down till his chin met his chest, "got carried away with a little thought of mine."

"What's someone like you take at school like this?" Avril playfully questioned as the distance between their stepping and the end of the ally were drawing close. She smiled outwardly grasping Todd's reception for just a moment but it was less gratifying that as desired.

"History classes mostly I guess," Todd turned to refocus his attention on the path, glancing down at his steps as they pressed forward at a now traditional rate, "my families pretty big on the whole history and political science and...all that."

"You don't care much for it do you?"

"I'm OK with it I guess," Todd responded sharply, "but I've sort of got my own plan I want to follow and I just don't see it entailing all...this." He nodded his head, bouncing his chin near to his chest, "there are a lot of ideological differences between the groups."

"Groups?" Avril's head shot up in puzzlement.

"Oh," Todd raised his head also, "families...it's all a bit complicated," his eye brows bounced followed by a light chuckle that only his little heart could hope to comprehend, "what about you?" he sheepishly questioned uncertain what answer he might get or even if he cared.

"I'm a gymnast mostly," she nodded looking to the side opposing Todd, "sort of a family thing too..." she turned back to him and let herself chuckle a little, "I don't really see myself needing all of 'this' either...so many different things I know I should be taking care of."

"Like?"

"There it is," Avril stated with a passionate jeer cutting their questioning to an end, "the heights." The two turned around the corner of the quiet neighbourhood and immediately came to encounter a large open playing field directly ahead of them, the grass in full bloom with the passing season. The two crossed to the other side, over the empty street and coming to the side walk that outlined the field, separated from its touch only by the height of loose green wire fence that towered over top of them by two heads. They walked along the edge, Todd, running his fingers through the oval like diamonds of the fence, Avril taking her steps to the outside, "what do you think?" she questioned her new friend instantly shaking him to look ahead at the school structure.

The base of the school was notable 'L' shaped with varying long sides running horizontal to them and the other vertically. Notably, a large hub like structure towered over top of the two pieces that jutted out of it differentiating in roof formation and colour distillation. The general height of all sections was maintained at two stories, the sections seemingly being separated by a spongy indented line that ran along the circumference of the building. With a gentle peach tonal value applied as paint, the building was quite easy on the eyes; however, as noted the central building was of a darker brown colour and more noticeably metal like in comparison to the soft stone of the jutting wings. Additionally, while the wings had a flat top for roofing, the central hub had metre wide panels that formed a square around its top. The two made further approaches tapping into the loosely defined parking lot which was littered with vehicles of various classes but all maintaining to a formation against the soft tar like ground, "it's kind of pretty," he looked around the area once more seeing the field as he turned around the corner of the sidewalk leading in towards the school entrance, a slanted bar touching upon the two wings while underneath were the plexiglass sliding doors which glinted the sunlight having not been opened in some short minutes. The sense of beauty however seemed to fade as he came to recognizes extending structures, perhaps larger than two stories, outstretching beyond the central hub towards the back where he believed he had seen a forest in the far distance on the walk in. The open walkway was devoid of students, an absence that Todd had never expected on his first day of school, "guess we're a bit late," Todd ran his hand through his hair amused at the slight issue that had overcome them.

"Not too late to avoid those who don't care..." Avril smiled as the doors swiftly slid outward into their wall sections allowing for the young students to get inside the office walls of education. Todd quickly admired the upper balcony at the at the mid-section of the inner hub, quickly understanding there to be a large window in the centre of the square roof which allowed for the day light to make the place more pleasant to the perceptive student. While the average school hall ways stretched down the two wings, stairs curving from the entrance way reached upward towards a balcony which presumably saw an extensive scenic area for a luncheon. The balcony was held up, though not the only source, by square metal pillars which opened up an extensive area underneath which revealed two other hallways that lead away into the school extensions at its back. Todd's head suddenly dropped as he found the floor to be the only detractor to the peach like beauty surroundings, the floor, a series of dot like murals of blue, teal and black, relic floor colouration of a long bygone era. Avril looked at Todd's glistening face, that smile and those eyes viewing the school as different world than the one she had become so used to and almost instantly she felt a sharp pain in her gut, distaste in her mouth, "Todd..." she beckoned for his attention.

"huh?" he looked over to her but was quickly interrupted by the presence of three young ladies, alleged friends of Avril whom appeared to hold a special interest in Todd, "what is it?" he asked politely, but her head turned away as the three girls made their approach them out of the wing hall way to their left.

"Its nothing," she sighed.

"Avril? Whose this friend you've picked up?" the lead girl, a blonde haired vixen in a straight red leather like suit stepped forward from her two friends, heroically engaging the new person to the school.

"I have to get to class..." Avril stated as she started to walk, seemingly confused or filled with uncertainty in every step. She leered past the three girls, whom appeared unmoved by her disappearance. Todd watched with a peaked interest, questioning himself as to what exactly had possessed her to leave his company.

"And what's your name?" the leading lady questioned him distracting him, bringing his focus upon herself and her friends whom both smiled and waltzed up close and ready to antagonize him with their presence.

* * *

"This sucks royally," Deryck spat out as he crossed the school hallway. The teenager, dressed in black slacks and a stylish green leather like jacket felt the stares of the few students remaining in the hallway beyond the call to turn into class; it was uncomfortable for him to say the least, "I swore I'd never come to back to these kind of places..." the looks that from a tall blonde gal and her friend walking by him, all wide eyed and prepared with their books in there small bags at their sides further cemented his distaste for the school experience...if not for a brief moment.

It was not long till the final red door leading into a standard classroom came to a close leaving Deryck to a lonesome state, the kind he was comfortable with, that enabled him to turn to a steady pace down the long hall seeking a door leading back outside that despite the cumbersome knowledge presented him here now, all such attempts at an education for him were simply trivial. The cemented blue lockers at either side of the walls, interrupted only by corners and class room doors, appeared to come to an end on his left side, the wide hallway coming to a complete stop with the appearance of more lockers; a corner waiting to be turned. As he approached the edge a voice rang through the hallway, echoing off the close metal compartments of the lockers, "I know that voice," Deryck pulled his chin to his arm pit in order to allow his outer ear to get a better sound. His paces drew to a crawl while he moved upward against the inside wall scraping up against those metal cabinets with his shoulder, mind tipped towards understanding whatever words were being spoken in the distance.

"So, Todd, you have any extra-curricular activities lined up?" a giddy feminine voice reached around the corner and tickled Deryck's inner ear, something he tried to throw of with a walloping tongue lash of disgust.

"Well, there is something," the light, yet well touch boyish familiarity stepped in, "but its not exactly something I'm allowed to really talk about in public..." he finished in absolute uncertainty.

"A secret society of something?" another girls voice jumped into the fray with just as much enthusiasm as the last.

"Guess I haven't really thought of it that way," the boy continued while Deryck imagined the peculiar face the boy would have made, hand raised to his chin and questioning the validity of his words all while being oblivious to the movements of the woman kind upon him, "I don't think anyone else involved would call it that...guess I'll bring that up at our next meeting."

"And how would one get involved in this little meeting?"

"uh," the boy seemed to stutter, looking for his next words, "training I guess...?"

"What kind of training?"

"All kinds of training, in everything,"

"Great..." Deryck burst into sarcasm as his head popped around the comer to gather intelligence on the voice's source, "he's here." looking down the other hallway, he saw leaned up against the inner wall, pressed against the locker system, that boy which he could not recognize in his physical form but immediately connected the dots with that voice and overtly confused personality, "Nightwing," he muttered under his breath as the jealousy began to boil over. There he was, that boy, stripped of his mask, the perfect smile and complexion, the soft looking hair that flowed evenly around the crown of his head, the crystal blue eyes that must have turned all others viewing into warm blooded love-lust zombies; all except the multitude of boys though whom watched as the more gentler women folk were found to be desirous of his luxurious company over theirs. Deryck found the unfortunate effects of resentment flowing under his skin as he played witness to the three young attractive girls that surrounded the bemused Todd whom seemingly continued in his conversation unaware of their intentions.

"So where are you headed now Todd?" one of the girls sheepishly asked Todd, prodding a form of an alluring enticement.

"Class. I think," Todd kept his hand to his chin while his eyes wandered upward looking upward at the ceiling. He licked his bottom lip as he had reached his conclusion, "yeah," he finished with a nod, "that's what I'm supposed to be doing...right?" he looked at all three of the girls with his wide glare but they only returned his plea with a fawning laugh, "what?" he said silently, more so confused than he was before.

"Come on Todd," the girl to his farthest left, a dark skinned lady with long raven hair that she thought nice to play with while she tossed a light punch against his shoulder which caused him a momentary shock, "no one goes to class anymore."

"Then what's the point of going to school?" Todd quickly retorted with a question.

"Alright, everyone back off the boy," Deryck pounded the floor, pulling his fingers in tight to form a tight bundle of human flesh, "I've got some business to enter into with the guy," his eyes narrowed down on Todd whom immediately came to examining this approaching member of the student body seeking to determine his alignment.

"OK Todd," a blonde, fair skinned beauty around Todd's height reached for his shoulder's pulling him in closely, "why don't you come find us after you're done 'class'."

"Well, I've sort of got this thing..." Todd attempted to reply making a statement about his social involvement but was graced with the softest of ignorance as the three girls distanced themselves from the two boys, giggling and talking to one another in their high pitched tones. "Thanks for the save there," Todd turned to the taller much robust Deryck whom clasped his fists to his waists, "those girls were kind of boring me...they don't seem to want to do much but talk strangely and touch or something," his face shared his disgust through to the last words.

Deryck simply stood there, menacing Todd through his shear physical presence; however, this appeared to have little effect on him. Deryck let out a shot of loud air through his teeth and rocked back and forth on his feet, "Just figures that I'd find you here..." he spoke with his robust strength while loosening his shoulders, seemingly preparing for some quick action. Todd observed these bizarre characteristics with the side of his head nearly attached to his shoulder, the puzzled frown of a thoughtless thinker, but before he could posit an appropriate question to such a comment, he felt the bulking end of Deryck's forearm against his neck, pulling up his chin and pushing him up against the locker doors with a bang against its metal surface.

Todd's head bumped back forward from the bang as concern for his wellbeing formed when he slowly felt he was losing his touch on the ground, toes barely being able to tap the floor they once so beautifully graced, "What is wrong with you boys and your girls," he spat out as he stared down at Deryck's angry eyes as he pounded his other hand into the locker door nearest to them; he leaned in closely causing Todd to revolt, pulling his chin away as best he could with only the hard backing of the lockers preventing him from pulling completely away, "I don't even like them..." he continued to blurt out his defence in his unruly matter.

"Maybe that's why I don't like you...Nightwing," Deryck looked up into Todd's eyes and smiled with a unusual laugh, "you never know a good thing when you've got it..." then Deryck seemed to stop upon the impact of Todd's similar facade of laughing approval, "what's gotten you? I know who you are," he stammered out hoping to enforce his superiority of knowledge.

"First thing I noticed when you started walking over here..." Todd's fingers slipped around Deryck pressed up arm and pointed towards that green glow emanating from a ring on his finger engraved with the lantern logo on its circle top, "Iota was it?" Todd prodded for conformation but Deryck just looked away from him, retracting his pounding hand from its position on the locker and used it to palm his face, stretching his thumb and fingers across his forehead blocking out his eyes. His forearm grip against Todd's neck began to slowly reach its release, "how can you go out and not be recognized?" Todd continued with deep sips of sarcasm, "you're a world class super hero, top of the tier..." he felt his feet hit full contact with the ground as Deryck pulled a little away from him.

"What do you have to be doing at this school anyway?"

"I don't want to be here but one of aunts threatened to beat me up," Todd continued through a chocking gag, the excess saliva produced finally taking its hold within the crevices of his mouth, "and I've seen her beat things up...it's not pretty."

"Did you hear that?" suddenly Deryck's bolted up closer to the locker's door once more placing pressure against Todd's neck resulting in a further head banging that threw Todd into a dizzy state. Deryck nodded his mistake off and pulled away all while looking above his acquaintance's head and even up beyond the locker's top where he came across a peculiar sight.

Todd slowly regained his balance along with his vision returning from its checkered perception while he too took some steps outward from the locker wall to get a good look at what was occurring in the wall space dividing the tops of the lockers and the ceiling. A square ventilation grate, those thick slanted metal panels, appeared to be slightly broken off in the corner, the metal warped to accommodate a rather unapproachable sight in the form of a long reptilian like take, waving around its purple mass trying to smash up against the grate to get fully inside the ventilation grate, "whats that?"

"Looks like a tail," Todd responded with cynicism as his interest level peaked, "wonder what its connected to..." his voice trailed off as the tail finally managed to achieve its goal, warping the the outer ledges just out enough to fit its girth in, "there it goes, nothing we can do about it now."

"Well, I'm certainly curious..." Deryck continued to look at the grate with a fascination in his eyes, hands wrapped firmly around his waist, "looking for another good team up story?"

"Yes, of the world's finest kind?" Todd replied with evident sarcasm, "I could never turn down such an opportunity."

"One of us should follow it..." Deryck nodded towards Todd whom didn't seem to quite get the message.

"Why man?" Todd sheepishly questioned, "probably just some rodent trying to get out," he pulled up the zipper on his jacket till it reached up to his nose. He placed his hands within the slots that the pockets formed at the sides of his jacket and stared blankly at Deryck whom appeared as though he could not wrap his head around his friend's thoughtlessness.

"With a tail four yards long?" Deryck angrily yelled back to his cohort, raising a convicting finger at the wrecked grate, the contorted piece of metal bent outward from its standard position as the result of a sizable reptilian beast busting through it, "beside," he relaxed himself a little, letting his arms free flow to his sides, "I'd rather be doing what we should be doing full time than waste it all in classes."

"Excellent idea your simple mind has made," Todd lifted up his chin above the top crust of the jacket's neck piece, "it's the first sensible thing you've said since we met," Deryck hit his head with a palm once more as Todd set about rustling around in his pockets, fingers bumping around through the jackets light layer, "it's a good thing we have this," Todd retracted and raised up a rectangular cell phone device from his jacket pocket and raised the screen side to Deryck's face whom leaned in to take a better look at the forming image, "it's the layout of the school, always be prepared for every possible situation even if it means running away...that's my current motto anyway," Deryck examined the layout image, though small and block like, he quickly came to recognize the air duct's simple system, the straight bars that ran like a grid throughout the school ceilings coming into contacts with each class room and double on each sides of the extensive working hallways, "just got to figure out where this vent is...assuming it doesn't break through anything or that it doesn't want to make itself known to anyone else. We could trap it," Todd retracted the phone piece and held it at his stomach with both hands soaking in the information once more, "why don't you go sniff up a trail."

"Your smaller..." Deryck quickly retorted.

"And you have a super alien shield..." Todd looked up with a grin, "I ain't getting dirty."

"Best. Team. Up. Ever." Deryck responded with the tables of sarcasm being turned. "Where's it most likely to head?" he questioned as he pulled up his ring hand into a fist and let it radiant its energy beyond the confines of the physicality of the ring itself.

"Should be a straight path towards the centre of the school..." Todd traced his index finger along the path line his device emitted, "takes you to a central HVAC system. It would probably want to get out of the school and the only way to get there is to turn left leading out to the back of the school at the side of the main track field." Todd watched as Deryck patted down his pants and attempted to climb up onto the locker top, hands slightly aglow aiding in his ascent, "with your ring it probably won't take you more than two minutes to make it."

"Well that's just great isn't it?" Deryck scoffed over his shoulder as he pushed off the top of the locker and landed firmly back on the floor, turning to Todd with an notion of disapproval, "its probably gone by now!"

"Doubt it..." Todd ignored Deryck's cynicism as his attention turned back to the phone; the creature could only have gotten into the school this way and this way is on the second floor," he continued with a flare of arrogance, "most likely attacked that grate as an attempt to get out but only succeeded in getting trapped...probably can't climb but is now realizing that its only option out is to do so...to crawl back from whence he came..." his voice swelled up into a dramatic overtone.

"Well," Deryck systematically began to bite his bottom lip, "lets get cracking then," his hands raised once more, poised to reach the top of the lockers.

"Give it a push once you find it," Todd looked up at his partner, "...I'll pinch it off at the end of the tunnel at the back of the school."

* * *

"There really is not much to do around here?" Jace threw the question out into the open hoping for an inkling of attention by at least one of his assumed guardians, most notably Jai West, the one he knew was home. He took to his customary sitting position, placing himself on that one seated plush green couch that sat within the square of similar looking couches of various lengths on the one step bottom floor of the living space, its delicate arrangement having been developed and constructed by Jai's interior interests. "Shouldn't have to always wait for Iris to be able to go out..." he crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his head, resentment bellowing through his ears.

Jai, wearing a form fitting navy blue jacket much like the one his sister wore save that it rather exemplified his robust inhuman muscle structure that she lacked, stepped out from the kitchen entrance way to the side of Jace's brooding position. Clutched in his hand was yellow cellophane bag which he pulled small potato chips from and munched down on them accordingly, "Well after that last stunt..." he paused in his chewing for the sentence at hand, "you should be thankful your getting off this easy...our father used to treat her pretty bad after her powers stabilized." Crossing the smooth wood panel flooring, Jace came to a pause just before the dip down into the centre square of the living room could be made, "judging by the current pattern of the stories, I wouldn't be surprised if you found something and quickly darted off into that action recklessly without my thought or concern for anyone else...just the mission."

"I don't have a mission," Jace responded leaving his depressing mood, reaching his hands out to the arm rests and looked up at Jai wide eyed and baffled, "in fact," he twisted his head back and forth on his neck, "I didn't even know we we're supposed to have one."

"Yeah," Jai replied as he crumpled the bag. He let his hands, one holding the remnant of the pristine bag, fall till they had eventually come to just short of his thighs where he planted them, curved elbows and fingers facing out. He looked up to the ceiling with a questionable grin, licking his lips in the process, "never lived in your world long enough to develop one of my own..." he let his head drop and he narrowed down to make contact with Jace and smiled politely, "I suppose I'm sort of a hedonist," he stepped down and circled around the side of the longer three person couch, sitting comfortably on the side closest to Jace. He crossed his left leg over his right and continued his usual disturbing smile in Jace's general direction but didn't get a reaction that would adequately support the benefits of his kind gestures, "have you ever thought about going to school?" he announced the question with the snapping of his eyebrows.

Jace exhaled a large volume of breath and leaned his head back, closed eyes, against the top of the couch letting it cradling the crinkling of his neck bones, "that would be one kind of a joke too many..." he tapped his finger tips on the edge of the arm rest, "this era is so backwards to mine..." he pulled his head back and lowered his back, eyes staring forward with a strange unknown intent, "the stuff you've learned in your twelfth year of this school system, I achieved within my first three," he faced Jai with one eye brow raised, "and now with these abilities...I had nothing preventing me from achieving any knowledge I deem fit to read..."

"That all remembering mind of yours," Jai replied candidly with a nod, "it's going to be the end of you." He fell back into his seat, dropping his legs so that both soles came to fit firmly on the floor, "you know there's plenty of other reasons why kids your age go to school, its not always what you can learn from books..." he proceeded to talk knowledgeably while looking ahead towards the television screen that was firmly stuck within the rock composed fireplace that stretch up to the ceiling and seemingly went beyond such. "Some people go to these public places to make friends, to develop relationships...there's a lot to be learned from those kinds of experiences, lot's of fun times-"

"Lots of loss..." Jace quickly interrupted.

"Yeah," Jai ruffled his shoulders, "you get as much as you can..." his eye lids began to fluttering, "you seem a bit cold emotionally, might do you some good," he looked back to Jace and forced a smile but once more, Jace could not be found breaking his demeanour, those eyes with an unhinge intent, "it might do you some real good is all I'm saying."

"Alright," Jace raised a hand to cup his chin, fingers loosely rubbing along the skin at the side of his chin.

"I know you secretly want to," Jai continued in his amused attitude, "you can keep playing this character that you want but all humans want a bit of something...I won't be divulging your secrets to others, especially that sister of mine."

"I doubt that I even secretly want to be involved."

"You're contemplating..." Jai pointed a hefty hand at the boy speedster, "I've got a list of good secondary schools, a colleague of mine developed a comprehensive computer program for an article, with your speed you could easily go to any one of them in the country...course," he started laughing, "you're going to have to fail a little at the entrance exams..."

"Alright, alright," Jace popped up from his chair and looked around the room tugging at the tacky white collared shirt feeling his fingers along the button side clipping the under cap of them, "let's go check this out then." He turned abruptly and took the step up and crossed the floor towards the kitchen entrance way knowing full well what had waited for him secretly therein.

"Awesome..." Jai said as he too jumped from his comfortable position and followed suit, "you know I've always thought it would be interesting to be a local student with super speed...you forget something at home, no problem," he threw his hands out from his body as his stepping continued, anything to mime the story along, "you just run home really quick, grabbed what you missed and your back in your seat in no time...I assume that's what Iris did all the time."

The two of them entered the kitchen area, through the thick entrance way, on the other side of the wall and instinctively knew their purpose for being there. The high counter outlying the edge of the kitchen, above them hanging the various pots and pans of various lengths and composed of the metal pots and pans that only Jai knew wholly of its suited purpose when it came to cooking, the more appropriately sized counter space that ran along the wall they had just past through most notably absent of any drawers or cupboards that would open from it; the reason for which the two were more than willing to exploit. Jai raised his hand and ran it along the tan wall paper above the counter space as he walked inward to the kitchen. He came to a sudden stop midway and smiled when a embedded square underneath his hand began to light up in an ethereal blue that glanced its powerful contact off the smooth cusps of his fingers. Jace watched with slight interest as Jai took pride in his handy, if not very easy, discovery.

Upon the moment Jai's hand fell from the wall, the square disappeared and the clanking of metal gears echoed throughout the kitchen space, not that it was loud, but to the two whom recognized its sounds, its smooth movements, it appeared to encompass the entirety of their ear canals. The immediate wall ahead of them appeared to crack, breaking away from its seamless perfection. A sizable portion a the middle of the counter collapsed, its white underneath moving in close to the wall while the appropriate counter top slammed down on top of it, heavy wood upon this soft empty shell of a cover, "should really get a stronger base, probably fall apart at some point..." Jai mused to himself catching the brief attention of his young friend. The two pieces, along with the wall which too broke upward to the ceiling, began to slide to its left, towards the two stoves set up connecting to the end of the wall in the corner. A pathway to the basement had been revealed to them, the steps, a near thirty, instantly lit up, all of them containing their source of light shining upward to the slanted down cement ceiling. Without much thought, the two approached the steps, Jai first, one foot after another crawling towards their getaway; the secret base of operations that the Flash's worked out from, "shouldn't take us to long to find something you like."

"Touching really," Jace responded with a hefty amount of sarcasm, "how much you care for me." The lights reverted to the ceiling on this basement floor, the wide and long room that surely took up the entirety of the space underneath the house. The walls were stone white blending efficiently into the floor resulting in only the shadows formed underneath the desk tops that circled the perimeter of the room revealing a change in the structure's movements. The far reaches of the room possessed various familiar items, the things that Wally West, the second flash, built: a tall circular wheel of sorts built for running in, a treadmill partially completed but left to wrought in the dust, and an assortment of other smaller devices that lacked name and a proper significance that would candidly draw the young speedster's attention for a few seconds to determine its purpose. However, in the immediate moment, he reached out to grab hold of the chair that stood behind a more large encompassing desk at the bottom of the stairs. Built into the wall above this desk were various screen, computers systems all set up and monitoring the world on a regular basis. He pulled back on the five prong swivel chair and made himself comfortable in its plastic like white cushioning.

"Go to Jai's Files, Colleagues then Public School Articles..." Jai placed a hand on the top of the chair and leaned in looking upon the larger screen at the centre of the monitors with a similar perspective of the young speedster looking up to it, "basically it tracks every school in the country...my colleague's always thought about extending it to encompass comparison throughout the world but his publisher didn't like the idea of big brother watching everything school are up to...not that the government doesn't do that already..."

Jace ran his hands along the indented rectangular platform on the main desk, a slight tinge of grey for distinction; it was the evident mouse that controlled the cursor on the large screen. His finger grew close to one another then expressed outward with the occasion tap. Both eyes of the room's occupants stared upon the screen, intent and rarely blinking, "at least I can alphabetize it..." Jace's hand slipped away into an incredible speed along the mouse pad resulting in the sudden movements of the cursor to a point where only his eyes could follow.

"What good will that do? We're looking for the best..." Jai turned away after his eyes grew tired of watching the endless black text, schools and their numbers, fly down the screen puzzling and confusing his sense of direction and understanding, "there's something wrong isn't there?" he looked down at Jace whose awareness of Jai's presence became muddled in the information being explored.

"There's something wrong at Central City High..." Jace spoke sharply breaking his hands off from the top of the desk and pulling them together into a bundle of fingers, his elbows, propped up on the desk top, keeping them steady just below his chin, "it's been put on lock down."

"School shooting?" Jai quickly asked as he too turned to the screen, seeing the text of the school in question having turned from the normal black to the unusually bright red. He lifted up from his crouched position, exercising his back to a straight stance using his hands to stabilize himself at the waist, "ah something always comes up..." he muttered to himself under his breath.

"It doesn't say," Jace continued, his eyes never turning away from the screen and the information it foretold, "It's probably best that I at least go check it out," he cupped his hands on the edge of the desk and pressed against it sharply enough to allow for the balls that supported the chair to rotate backwards allowing for a turn of chair seat towards the stairwell, "your friend has done excellent work with the updates...it may just be a drill but lets not take unnecessary chance, this is our job after all," he spoke eloquently of his position, but did not once look to his dotting friend for approval instead maintaining a fixation on the glowing white steps back up to the kitchen area; it was a shorter than short for a speedster of his calibre, one thought, one movement and he was free and justified with purpose.

"You lack of experience in the field, your lack of experience in your abilities and even your perception of time..." Jai shook his head attempting to reconcile the justifying notion provided while not disrupting the plans of his sibling, "perhaps its best that you leave this kind of thing to the proper authorities while you train yourself to a more capable level...perhaps one that's a little more level headed..." he smiled and bent his back down a little bit attempting to get a solid reaction from the impatient speedster.

"I took down Captain Cold with much success," Jace continued his mode of reasoning, eyes remaining unattached from the glow of the steps, "I don't recall there being much complaining from either of you when I saved the city from a permanent freeze."

"That token is only going to get you so far," Jai quickly spat out his retort, "should have known something like this would have resulted from digging around...we came here to give you something to do, now whenever I present something I get caught up in emergency. Even worse though, I'm always there at the start but I never get to see the resolution..."

"Don't too worried Jai, you've achieved in giving me something to do."

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Jai tossed up his palms aimed towards the stairwell back up. Jace nodded in compliance to the notion, "go check it out."

"Thank you Jai," Jace propped up off the chair and proceeded to take his first steps to the entrance but came to a sudden pause on the first step. He looked over his shoulder with undefinable smirk, "and Jai, I don't need the best, I'll take whatever works." And just like that, the young speedster climbed up to a remarkable speed, out to adventure on his own to discover just what was occurring at the secondary school that bore the name of city he recently came to inhabit.

Todd turned the corner edge of the school building, taking a left passing by the large empty playing field and encountering the back end of the school that held the more suitable track that necessitated the physical education course. He stepped slowly towards it, admiring the smooth red crumbled path of the oval shaped track, those white lines that stood as mental segregation factors in the several runners that stormed along the perfectly cut track. It was an experience he would most certainly hope to avoid and smiled politely to himself as he came to deem the practice of running for merit, honour or personal gain to be trivial in comparison to his rooftop escapades; however, not everyone was keen on such an opinion.

"Avril?" Todd became shocked as he refocused on his current objective, "what are you doing out here," he gently glided into a quicker paced walk as he came up to his new friend from this morning's walk whom sat down in the small rocky moat that surrounded the school, leaned up against the back wall, "Thought you said you were going to class?"

Avril looked up at Todd confused as she hurriedly stuffed a peculiar eggplant colour like cape into her duffel bag that sat close beside her barely in view to the young boy making his approach on her, "uh," she stammered to find the right words as she leaned forward a tad bit to cover her bag more appropriately with her body, "I guess I could ask you the same thing...I don't think first block's even ended."

"No..." Todd came to a stop in front of her, looking down sympathetically. She made the desperate attempt to look up at him, blotting out the sun with the full extent of her arm brushing back her short hair but could only manage to get the lower portions of her blue irises in the open, "but I've come back here for some more important business than class time..." Todd started up proudly, elbows bent with firm hands stretched across his sides. He looked upward at the large rectangular grate that sat on the dividing indented line between the bottom part of the school and final top part, "yeah it's probably best that you get some distance from...here..." his voice began to trail off from the cocky attitude as his jaw dropped along with his hands. He watched the grate as it appeared to him to shake and strain violently, something behind it on the inside chute was pressuring against its walls seeking a break through point outside, "now might be a good time," he looked down at Avril one last time with smile then prepared himself for the inevitable, stepping out from the building a good three metres and looking upward upon the grate with an intense fascination for what was waiting for his glorious fighting skills. Hand's poised and ready to fling, the soles of his feet fitted to the ground soaking in the fresh soil, with mental receptors ready and available, dictating strategy and form with every passing seconds; all this though and he was still not quite as prepared as he thought he would be for what barrelled towards him once the bolts of the grate gave way from the concrete sidings, lifting the panel upward slamming into the back into the school wall with a creak before its two hinges broke down completely.

A blur of red, a streak of green light, all flew down from the second story grate, dive bombing for Todd whom immediately gave into its thunder. With a splash against the moist school grounds, he found himself pinned down by a rather brutish looking figure; a humanoid shape with muscular arms and legs, devoid of clothing as deemed unnecessary since the red skin appeared paint like, stretching throughout the entirety of the creatures body covering whatever might be deemed questionable. A tail at the lower end of its back flipped around and came within tapping distance of Todd's leg, "where is that stupid kid lantern when you need him," he spoke under clenched teeth as he felt the force of the creatures purple clawed hands dig his arms deeper into the soil. He looked upward at the beasts head, lacking a nose but sporting instead two cage like bubbles where the eyes would be which glowed out its green emerald form while its teeth, yellowed with decay, jutted out of its gums like triangular bullets waiting to be satisfied by the young heroes flesh. "You're not so strong!" Todd opened up in witty banter as he felt the capability of his wrists to move under the creature's impressive weight. He pressured down his knee and pulled it upward to his chest scrapping along the angry beast's stomach by which point he realized a moment for quick retribution for the embarrassing knock down had come and he was not willing to let it go. A swift extension of the leg, the grasp of his enemies wrists, and soon it was over top of his frail human body, catapulted towards the edge of the track just short of touching its red carpeted surface.

It didn't take long for the track and field students to realize there was something taking place nearby them. They rushed and jeered towards the event unfolding in their uniforms but Todd sought solace in ignoring them focusing upon his enemy which lay somewhat damaged, attempting to regain its form. Todd bolted into a run, jacket flailing in the wind pockets he formed, taking a dive at the creature whom managed to save itself, reaching just enough strength on its feet to take a slap of his palm against the side of the young heroes head throwing him off his balance and taking him into a tackling posture, pulling him close and turning ever so slightly to come into contact with the hard surface of the track.

Todd felt his back come into contact with the rough rubber of the track, possibly giving rise to a rash to his backside as the result of his jacket being pulled down to the back side of his legs nearly chocking him with its zipper portion which straddled around his neck; soon his head came to hit it also leading to the all-time most annoying checkered light pattern in his eyes. There he lay, questioning to himself what had happened and how he had ended up here, but before he could find the answer he sought, a troublesome hard fists pounded up against his face, glancing off his nose and through to the side of his cheek. Another punch, this time from another fist that took out his other cheek. It became evident then by this point that the creature had landed on top of him, knees over his aching mid-section pummelling him with an endless array of hard hits that felt more like bricks than flesh like the fists formed of human hands that he had grown accustomed to and even at this point admired...flashes of small green lights soon clouded his perception but just before it became evident that the light could give way to black at any moment, he saw running from the side of the school building, Avril in a state of overwhelming distress, hands extended outward, anger tight on her lips, approaching him at a unparalleled speed, "Get off of him!" she shouted in her righteous furry.

* * *

At a flurrying speed, Interval dark scarlet boots stampeded along the clean cut sidewalk, gloved hand reaching out clinging up against the hexagonal patterns of the wire fence bouncing along it as the straight path led to the school up ahead. The brazen youngster could not help but turn his head to the large soccer field beyond the fence where several of what must have been teachers and students had become soundly apart of the grass that their feet clutched to, all scared and yet baffled, uncertain as to whether it was necessary for them to scream or to remain silent; something was most definitely wrong and this speedster was not going to allow the issue at hand go unexplored by his perceptive instincts and heroically bent attitude.

It was not long till Interval has reached the end of the sidewalk, at least the straight portion of it that quickly diverted inward forming one half of circle that met with the primary school complex. A large rectangular overhead extended outward from the main building, held up above the entrance way by several concrete tubular shafts thereby forming a kind of outer lobby where student could discuss the aftermath of their educational activities as they awaited whatever rides appeared in the drive way loop. A tubular outgrowth, the size of which comparable to the West's living room, cut into the this lobby top, large enough to reduce it to being nothing more than meagre out growth extension from the building, it rang up three stories with a series of windows stacked upon one another reaching from just above the ground onward to just short of the ceiling which around such a top bore the name of the school in gold lettering; a lone tower that easily stood out with a decidingly nausea inspiring glow as a result of its faded light green colour which differentiated itself from the rest of the building. The rest of the building, in so far as he could see from the entrance way ahead, was composed of box like buildings composed of metal sides that diverted in and out impounding a near four inches on the zig in and on the zag out. This stretched upward to the roof vertically where a foot deep line that ran horizontally around the entirety of the structure kept this siding bonded into position. While the open soccer field was maintained to the schools left, the parking lot surrounded its front and right side while a notable highway passed through on its backside where presumably a more formidable patch grass lay between the back of the building and the fence that out skirted the busy roadway. Regardless of whatever description the young speedster could provide for himself at that moment, it simply was not a building worth much of an architectural note.

"What's happening here?" Interval cried out as he saw up ahead at the six glass panelled doors where a middle aged woman was stepping out of the middle door set, pushing lightly on the metal indoor bar that ran from side to side. Instantly, he saw the light trembling in her hands. Her straight grey, white pinstripe, suit revealed her to be at least in some way attached to the faculty of the school or at the very least someone whom was concerned for the school safety. Her raven hair roamed freely just above her shoulders giving some indication to a more edgier attitude associated with most secondary school teachers, but this became less and less a concern to him as he recognized her stressed facial patterns, the swollen lips pressured from her face, the wide glare of her clover green eyes...she did not once stop to look at the young hero, she just kept trudging along, her hard soled form fitting shows clacking along the cement of this outer lobby. His fingers twitched lightly as he watched with interest of the taller, sophisticated woman walk by him, her mental status breaking down ever more further with every subsequent step.

Quickly reacting, Interval took the short stride to the door, clasping his hand on the rectangular metal piece that jutted at the centre of the dual door arrangement but before he could dare to pull it open for himself, he was pleasantly interrupted with some important information; "its upstairs..." the woman said in a monotone emotionless voice that seemed to echo his own usual banter with others save he never found himself to be such a state of shock, not like her; perhaps he really needed whatever sociable lessons could be learnt in environment of peers his own age...but all such thoughts would need to be put on hold. A quick flex of the wrist and Interval was indoors, the inner lobby of the school, seeking out the stairs to get to the alleged situation that had been evolved on the second floor of the building.

Up the linoleum square bound steps of the stair well that twisted up one way a single flight to a intermediate platform before going up a second flight of stairs that ran counter to the first, aimed towards a double door sized entrance way onto the second floor. The walls, their palsy blue hue, proved unbearable to look at as it blurred all around him, he squinted his eyes as softly as he could and aimed down his head to view the tips of his feet as they pounded in front of him one after another, his enhanced perception pulling a more normal look within the steps.

A loud, but altogether high pitched scream, pierced Interval's ears as he leaped from the final step of the stair flight, sliding along the soft waxed floors breaking up against the red full length lockers that ran lengthwise along the entirety of the wall. He looked upon the square computer etched part of the locker, placed there at the centre at each individual locker...turned off, but still all the more unusual to him as he could do little to imagine the memorization of a trivial number to get one of these protective cabinet doors open. The scream snapped him free of his contemplation, his head raised abruptly looking down the distant school hallway, the black marble like floor glistening from the pure lights of the ceiling. It wouldn't take him long to search the entirety of the school to find the source of that scream, but he more than ever felt that what he was looking for, what he came to do, was down this way to his left...the lockers, the doors slammed closed tightly, the cowering students most likely grasping for life under their desks, silently avoiding whatever forced the scream from the evident feminine voice.

There was one of these blood coloured doors at the end of the hall, the black lettering that would otherwise signify the purpose of the room was partially obscured as a result of it being halfway pushed through its wall slot. Cautiously approaching, Interval slowed his general speed taking deep prolonged breaths in an effort to prepare himself to find solace in the Speed Force the moment trouble would reveal itself. The light tapping of his feet on school's floor soon became drowned as it became evident that the computerized gears that worked to operate the door were at full strength, pushing hard on their wheels to pull the door within the frame wall but having most certainly been jammed into its strange half open position. He tilted his head slightly, looking within the classroom, as he raised his hands slightly ahead of himself ready to grab hold of the doors edge and pull himself inward.

The class room was quite lengthy, more broad than its front or back. Five narrow tables stretched across the class room, broadside to broadside, their fronts and sides being solid panels of conformity. The students desks were without the students filling the abandoned chairs assorted throughout the length of the desk, their small laptops abandoned to whatever forces spooked them out in the first place. A more sizable desk, one suited for a significant individual but otherwise maintained to a conforming image of the other desks with the exception of having a larger table top, stood at the front of the classroom, centred but nonetheless viewable from the door frame where Interval now stood looking in. The walls maintained that horrid blue, the floor in its fake black marble setting connecting seamlessly with the rest of the school floor, all radiating brightly with the the expanse of the outer wall being taken up by a slip of windows at an attractable height.

Drawing closer to the desk, Interval became startled at its rumbling, the sides of the desk being shaken. He felt down his fingers on the side of it and pressed down hard but instantly came to mock himself as the closed laptop, the sole occupant of the desk top began to rattle but this act soon came to a stop along with the desk, "Is someone there?" a deep shot of breath followed from the soft scared voice that appeared to be sourced from under the desk, "is it gone?" it shot out once more seeking to be quantified with an answer.

"Is what gone?" Interval Shallow voice returned. He firmly pressed his left palm on the top and knelt down on his knees, curving his head inward to get a clear look under the desk. Past the four cabinet draws that lined from the top to the floor, he made out a young girl, her back bottled up against the other side of the desk, hands clamped together over top her light purple shirted chest while her legs, wrapped in a unusually tight neon teal pants, appeared to shake at a speed that even he had difficulty looking at. She leaned forward towards him, her hazel eyes growing exceptionally large as though she had recognized the hero, or at the very least the insignia upon his chest. "Can you understand me?" he questioned her responsiveness. The punk like girl wore her light brown hair short with wispy bangs appropriately organized across her brow so as to never move, with a thin narrowing chin, it was difficult to make out the presence of lips, the dark near brown lines, which the girl seemed to have swallowed inward to her mouth which he kept shut. "Come on," he reached out his strong right hand to her in a friendly gesture, "let's get you out of here."

"Is it gone?" she said once more, her beady sullen eyes now making contact with Interval through the light yellow goggles that clogged around his face, "Is it gone?" she reaffirmed her question as she slowly pulled her legs inward to feel herself on to her knees while her hands reached out for Interval, dodging his extended hand gesture.

"Is what gone?" Interval questioned once more as she attached onto his shoulders, her uneasy hands digging in with their fingers to clasp tightly to his costume, nails nearly biting into its surface. He looked from her momentarily unable to fathom her complete distress as he motioned to move himself standing up straight, dropping the displayed friendly hand and abiding to the girls needs by pulling her up with him, "are you OK?" he questioned her once more, as their bodies seemed to proceed in connecting tighter as she drew herself closer, unable to shake away from the glare in her eyes that appeared to go over his shoulder and out towards the lone exit way from this room. He bit down hard on his teeth as he felt her body come into contact with his, her face growing ever so closely to the side of his head, mouth poised to his ear.

"It's still here," the girl whispered freely as he grasp upon him grew tighter.

"Where is it?" Interval posited the new question as though his original had been answered.

"In this room..."

"Alright then," Interval pressured her back from his physicality but met with her opposition, her tight binding refusing to let go of the sturdy presence that the young hero provided; but of these such reasons and desires for a sturdy person in light of a life threatening ordeal were issues that he did not quite comprehend, "let me get you out of here quickly and I'll come back and deal with it in my own way."

"It's too late," the girls lips suddenly burst open while her eyes momentarily shut.

"What the?" Interval's perceptive interest spiked as heard an intense rumbling coming from their side, amongst the desks. A hefty push against the girl sent her spirally out of control, knocking her head to the ground resulting in a seemingly passed out state with minimal moans, her arms stretched out, legs twisted; she was not going to be getting up on her own any time soon but it was all for good reason as Interval himself bent his upper body backwards, watching a massive angry red fist shoot right past him awkwardly seemingly aimed at where his head was when he come into a close proximity with the girl. A quick turn of his head to side revealed a hulking red creature, massive muscle orientations blurred of shadows by the thickness of the beast red skin. It was tall, taller than Interval, but not much higher than that of an average adult. Circular cage like apparatuses darkened around the sockets of the beasts humanoid head which only lacked in such features a definable nose additionally sporting triangular teeth that littered the gums of its mouth. A menacing grin came upon this sharp tooth filled mouth as it retracted its heavy fist, the purple tipped claws of which proceeded out of the finger tips till they had become quite a prominent placement at it prepared to make another strike upon the young hero. A simple dodge, two steps backward, and Interval was out of the beast grasps, but of the most unusual results of this battle was not the conflict that the hero expected, rather that the best, his acquired foe, stepped in front of the down girl and flexed its biceps, mouth opened and seemingly shouting at the him seemingly trying to convince him to stand, to go away. Baffled, Interval fell back to the door frame and intensely pondered the scenario; the beast looked over its shoulder quickly to examine the poor girl before returning its exceptionally strange, if not intimidating glare, at the Speedster whom continued to gawk with intense suspicion of the circumstances that had arisen since it appeared to him that his fateful foe had taken to a posture in defence of the passed out girl on the floor behind it.

When the time for deductions had passed, Interval darted around the beast, sliding near the wall underneath the beast's flexed arm, throwing out a leg in process kicking the beast's leg on the reverse side knee. At his speed, the magnification of the Interval's strength turned his boot into a jackhammer that came nearly to snapping the beast leg into a broken heap; it became apparent then that this demonic creature vulnerable to his physical attacks. It moaned in pain and collapsed to the floor, hands sprawled out attempting to get a grasp of his situation, while Interval pulled his left arm underneath the girls legs, letting them slide into the pocket his elbows made for it. With her head picking up the space of his right elbow, Interval had picked her up and raised back to his running speed, dodging over the crumpled body of his current enemy, bolting out the half open doorway through the expanse of the hallway, retracing his steps down the stairs till he could reach outside and get her to safety, all while looking down at her fragile face, her lips now hanging loose whilst finding himself contemplating how he could have handled the situation better without having exacerbated her fear or knocking her unconscious in a desperate attempt to prevent the oncoming harm from a less respectable being that the beast presented.

"Better get her some help," Interval called out as he fell to his knees, letting loose the girl to be soaked up in the soil the stingy green blades of grass. Amongst the puzzled students came an older man by comparison in a black tie, he too fell to one knee and marvelled at Interval who not once turned to look up at his approach with the intention of aid.

"What happened?" the teacher questioned.

Interval nodded his head up just a small bit catching the teacher's knee, his tan coloured pants, breaking down into the soil while the lower clips of his tie fell out from his chest and hung in the wind slightly over the girls contorted body, "I don't know," he spoke out coldly and much quieter than he hoped he could muster up, "I'm about to go figure out," he continued to stare down at her but felt that the time for a proper examination had closed and it was best to reassess the situation within the building before the beast could escape if in fact it still had the ability to walk.

Snapping to his feet, Interval darted off from the field, his speed turning the souls around him to stone, as he sought to make his return to the building to pursue his investigation more thoroughly. Through the doors of the entrance way, up the unappealing stair well, driven by his hunger for knowledge, the young hero barrelled down on the class room once more, carefully aware and conscious of what might be waiting for him, but of that case what he discovered was less than what he had hoped for though under such circumstances he would take what he was given, "Jace?" a fuzzed echo of his real name phased into his ear. He lightly placed his hand on the door and pressed against it allowing for the gears of its mechanical process to make some change in its movement inward but could only achieve now to get it open one third of the way, "you better get back here and take a look at this. Looks like there's something more going on with the school system...more than one lock down anyway."

"And I take it that none of those reports have anything to do with angry students?" Interval replied with his question, raising his free hand to his closest ear to muffle the echo to make the voice of his contact more clear.

"No, I've found three reported complaints referring to faculty members acting strange...in one case the principal just went out of control."

"You don't say," Interval left his perch against the door and proceeded to step into the classroom approaching the desk where an usual clump of body had taken to the ground in an usual manner, clasping to his leg, the same leg that moment earlier he believed himself to kick at. He was a tall bulky man, this person on the floor, same size and shape of the beast he had encounter save the skin had withered away to a more humanesque tone and more respectable clothing, that of a three piece light brown suit and moderate green tie which had been bounced to his body to sprawl on the floor. His mouth attempted to bite down, dark eyes, real eyes absent of any caged covers, revealing the story of the agony that travelled from the popped blood vessels of his leg all the way up his spine tingling all the receptors that his brain could fathom; something was not quite right.

* * *

"What have you got for me," Jace recollected a more enthused voice as he took the last few steps to the basement floor. With the bulk of his fingers at the edge of his nose, under the cowl, he flipped open its flap revealing his handsome features.

"The number of schools reporting lock downs is increasing...and now it's not just schools either..." Jai firmly responded, swivelling on the lone computer chair to get good look at Jace, "what did you get into?"

"There was a lock down alright," Jace stepped up closer coming to his friend, he placed a hand on the desk top and examined the screens noting the increased volume in the red lettering on the school lists that certainly dominated over that of the black lettering which he understood to be the normal formation, "poorly organized, didn't seem like anyone knew what they were doing," he bowed his head, looking at the spaces between his fingers as they flexed outward, "I encountered some sort of demonic entity," he spoke softly with evident uncertainty that through Jai off, "but it didn't react as I had expected...one kick and it was down," he looked up at Jai catching the glint in his eyes, "it was a human, but it didn't look like one when I kicked it."

"That might explain what they mean by out of control..."Jai turned back to the monitor and continued to scroll downward watching at school names highlighted rapidly.

"Only in the teacher's though..."

"At the moment yes, that's all they're reporting," Jai flipped his fingertips onto the white keypad built into the desk top nearby to the mouse pad, "probably encountering something like what you were getting...but what did you say? How many of those things did you find?"

"There was only the one..." Jace raised his chin and narrowed his eyes down to look upon the hunched shoulders of Jai as he worked hard into the key pad, "what's the difference in the others?"

"Not just a principle, it's not just one...," Jai let go of key pad and flowed back in his chair crossing his arms over top of his stomach while his eyes continued to marvel at the bright screen containing the strange statistics that defied normal reasoning; this was no more truer than in the eyes of Jace whom took a look at the stats and could not remove himself from them till his mind could fully comprehend it, "sometimes it's just the one person 'infected', usually the person with the most power whom has been making these strange decisions all day, free lunches, annulled detentions, the works...but in some other ones...it's the whole faculty," he looked up to Jace with a smirk, "and your not the only person seeing strange things...some kids on Rhode island have reported seeing lizard like things crawling around the school halls and ventilation systems..."

* * *

"Something tells me I'm going to hate that kid," Deryck muttered to himself as he pushed through the ventilation shaft at a crawl on all floors, "this place is hardly as dirty as he made it out to be." It was dark and narrow in both aspects of height and width, but Deryck was still able to hoist himself through them with ample elbow room, at least in so far as raising his head high enough to look ahead of himself and crawl at the same time. The entirety of his body glowed a hefty amount of ring radiation, collecting and dispersing the dust along the floor which he hoped could carry his weight alone without the assistance of the flight capabilities that the ring provided for him, "I can barely see anything even with the ring," he paused in his tracks to raise a his ring arm upward and glance down the path ahead with its flash light like glow but only managed to produce nausea inspiring reflections of the green light upon the brightly formed aluminum of the shaft further clarifying the lack of dirt that a rich boy like Todd was so sure existed and was unwilling to undergo such an activity. Resuming his crawl, the teen lantern sought out the spacing above the central HVAC room undeterred by the lack of proper vision ahead.

"This must be it," Deryck commented as he came to a circular room, though still small, it indented upward and downward funnelling into a grate of single centimetre large squares formed by the grid crossings of the thick metal wiring. Underneath of course was a large fan with massive foot long blades extended throughout the entirety of the circle formed; thankfully, it was not currently operating at a sufficient speed to cause him disturbance in his heroic actions. The circular inner chamber jutted off into five other like trails that Deryck was just exiting from, he attempted to look down each one from where he knelt at the edge of his but could only make out the darkened distances with the concluding thought that such actions with his own eyes would be futile. But then a sudden sound brought him onto the trail he was searching for, a shearing noise that appeared to be coming from above him. His head instantly shot up, eyes flowing along the angular surface of the wall leading into the ceiling towards the single circular branch that led upward; the lone location for getting inside the school secretly...and the only way one would be able to get out without noticing.

Powered up in all his limbs, Deryck allowed the natural flowing energy to lift him from the flooring and hover over top of the protective wiring coming to a stop at the centre where by he could no look upward into the tubular chute above his head. Finally, with enough room now present, Deryck stood up to the highest reach his body could achieve, head and upper body shaking up through the upper duct. Without much other hope, Deryck raised his ring hand once more to get a beam up light above him to see what was the source of this shearing nose but with success looming his arm quickly dropped upon seeing the visible tale flowing around a mere metre above him. His heart raced as the sudden shock of the appearance caused him to toss and turn violently into the tube, "come on!" he shouted as he punched his hands into the side gaining for himself some balance. One more puncture noise was made out above him suddenly cementing his desire to act out in the matter he thought best required of him. With a thrust of speed, grace and a whole lot of lantern energy, Deryck propelled himself forward, fists up ahead and poised for an airborne attack on whatever may lay ahead of him in the vertical chute.

His fists came into contact with the escaping beast with much desired success seemingly taking the tail of the creature up into its abdomen; however the plight seemed to be short lived as within the two seconds of conflicting one another, Deryck's head, along with the creature he now held, bashed up against a ceiling of sorts, the end of this vertical portion of the tube.

Swearing his head left an imprint of it within the top of the beginning part of the new duct leading out, Deryck quickly sought to react properly by continuing his pressure against the creature, aimed down the horizontal chute towards the outside, "that Nightwing boy better be there," he said under his breath as he felt the creature's tail forcibly ram up against the side of his head, flapping madly in a dire attempt to shake the boy's grasp upon its body. In a desperate last act, the creature in his hands seemed to dig itself strongly into the bottom surface of the chute, clawing away at the metal making the horrid shearing noise but much more magnified at this speed. He felt his hands get pulled underneath his body, towards and between his legs as he felt his grasp maybe lose its strength for just the inkling of a second before it seemingly was uprooted from its grind into the air ducts metal and up once more in front of the lantern as he dropped a shoulder to take on the larger grate leading out into the free world.

Deryck shut his eyes tight as he dropped his outer shielding for the sake of accidental exposure. Instantly the force of gravity came upon him as he dived down to the earth hoping for the creature that was in his hands to break his fall. With a loud thud and the tingling of his senses, Deryck had made it back to the earth and was a little worse for wear as he opened his eyes to a startling surprise of a creature. A humanoid in shape, the entity seemed to wear upon itself its thick chalk like skin that was bubbling a perfect hue of red throughout its body with slight, if any, shadow disturbances. Its eyes, caged like bubbles at the position where sockets would normal reside, glowed an unearthly blue that spoke volumes enough in Deryck's mind to punch it mindlessly. The creatures tail, which circled underneath its backside, further cemented this opinion but it would not come to fruition as when the hero finally got a grasp of what he was dealing with and how he should go about ensuring it never walking again, a foot, the creature's broad toe-less foot, reached under his stomach and pressed with full force upon it aiming him head first behind it towards a oval red crusted track.

Deryck let out a sad moan as he watched several track and field runners, their shorts and sleeveless shirts, crowd around him, jeering with shouts of enthusiasm as though he were of something special as opposed to the acquired opportunity to run away from his obvious foe which had quickly recovered from its pressing against the ground and opened into a sprawling run towards him. On one knee and little time before the distance between himself and beast broke down for good, he brought up his ring hand to the secret cove formed under his chest and allowed for the inner palm to become full with its hard green substance. With the creature barrelling down upon him, he waited just before the creature could make its last two steps and he lunged up at it, diving straight at its chest pulling out his hand and slapping the side of the creatures head instantly gratifying him as the creature appeared dazed and uncertain of what had just hit it. Instinctively, the two enemies grabbed upon one another and took a swivelled tumble towards the tracks oval surface, crumbling to it with a hard thud against the creature's back and head. Deryck, finding himself to be the stronger, took to a position of dominance, forcing the creature to the ground with his knees heavily bolted to the creature's wrists. With the acknowledgement of his superiority, Deryck took to pummelling his foe's head into the ground; pound after pound with his emerald energy lighting up with every subsequent punch.

"Get off of him!" a shout from a young girl off to Deryck's side suddenly startled him enough to turn his head slightly to get a good look at this intrusion, "What do you think you're doing?" She called out once more as her pace quickly grew to a run.

"It's OK," Deryck shouted back, fingers moving from the beast's shoulder's to its neck taking a firm unrelenting grasp, "I've got it under control?"

"You're going to pick on a kid half your size?" She screamed out once more, now less than ten steps from tackling Deryck.

Deryck, uncertain of the context of this girls question was to him, turned his attention back to the creature firmly in his grasp but upon refocusing his necessary attention to the enemy at hand, a jolt of distraught riveted throughout his fingers up to his head for in his hands was that familiar face, that once beautiful child that he had found himself jealous of, all though never admitted, moments earlier, "what is going on?" he questioned as he found Todd's face, smashed up by his fists, near black and blue on both cheeks with a hazy look in his eyes, not wrath, just a puzzlement he could easily identify with. Deryck looked upon Todd's face carefully as he appeared to be washing something out within his mouth, the swishing of his tongue bumping into the side crevices of his cheeks causing the deformed skin to button outward all while his eyes remained somewhat close, squinted upward at the teen lantern. Then suddenly, without the hope for a warning, the tips of Todd's lips swelled up and shot a spot of blood filled saliva upward instantly tapping onto Deryck's nose which resulted in his immediate reaction of revolt in disgust as he slapped away at his face while attempting get up away from Todd. Just as Deryck was standing though something hit him from side, something hard which clasped around his lower body catapulting him to the luscious grass filled playing field. And Todd, he simply raised his head a little from the ground and with a smile turned to face the developing fight that erupted between his two new friends.


	15. Young Justice Beyond 3 Part 2

Young Justice Beyond #3  
Volume 1. Story 2.  
The Kid's Nightmares are Real! (Part 2)

* * *

Cassie walked along the concrete square blocks of striated sidewalk as they laid out in a significantly long stretch near to the two story complex that was the local high school, separated only by a moat of luscious green grass and small pebbles that seemed to take up a foot of space running along the school grounds, "I let him keep the cat," she spoke reassuringly to herself, head down watching her steps. Dressed in her smooth black dress pants and a matching jacket and collard white shirt that contorted to her every curve, she was most definitely here for the sake of business more so than the play that school had often provided for her throughout her childhood, "first day of school," she continued to nod her head disapprovingly, "I always enjoyed my first day...up until my identity was exposed," her paces slowed down as she reexamined her statement, drawing her head to her shoulder facing out from the school building, "never really got back into school after that." The movements of her head came to a stop as she pressed on forward looking for the entrance way, "no excuses if his identity hasn't been compromised. Even if it is though, its not like he would do anything about it anyway."

Cassie let her thoughts roam as she continued up the path, admiring the peach tonal values of the school building she was near and every so often taking a gander through the rectangular window formation that lined up horizontally within the walls where students were portrayed as idyllic and exceptional, typing away into their pocket computer books while a teacher at the front continued to discuss the daily content of the course at hand. She nodded her head in approval, admitting to herself the better times that had existed in her childhood when she too sat behind a desk, and although she altogether hated it at the time as a result of her heroic activities, she was certain she could have made a better experience of high school even with the exposure she had endured.

In the midst of trying to form a smile with her eyes passionately closed lightly, Cassie felt a bodily knock against her head; not to hard or rough, but enough to jolt her into an out of body experience. Reality skewed as she opened her eyes to take a look upon the particular strange thing that had upset her stride, "very sorry and..." the crisp masculine voice protruded but came to a sudden stop as it became apparent that he had recognized her. Standing before her was a tall muscular man who sported spiky black hair and a crooked smile. Wearing black slacks and a loose fitting jacket over top of an open white terribly coarse collared shirt that revealed a more simple dark t-shirt underneath, it was certain that he was more here for the play than the actual business, "Cassie?" the voice continued oddly, his hands having been raised to reach out and brace the sides of Cassie's arms.

"Kyle?" Cassie questioned with a flutter in her voice as she made the appearance of her being perfectly able of gaining her balance. She shook her shoulder's back into place as Kyle dropped his hands, she pulled an arm across her face scratching away her forehead, "what are you doing here?" she proceeded with awkward smile and a voice of strange uncertainty.

"Well, that's a good story..." Kyle returned the smile as he clasped his fingers around his waist and admired the form that Cassie had developed in front of him, "some kid stole a ring and I offered to take care of him."

"Really?" Cassie beckoned with confusion.

"Oh yeah," Kyle nodded his head in affirmation, "thought I'd just cut to the full story if anyone in the community asked rather than making any winks and nods about him having earned his right as a lantern...though," his eye brows bounced as his head wobbled around a little, "he has shown himself to be quite the capable boxing glove maker."

"And how are you doing with all that?" Cassie politely questioned, "I know you've always had a thing for kids."

"Yeah well," Kyle laughed to himself for a moment, taking in the awkward relations between the two them and the subject matter at hand, "he's a problem child to say the least...he really did steal that ring," he closed his eyes, clamping his hands around the bulbs of his waist, "not the kind of person you would hope to get a lantern ring..." he took a short swallow before looking back up to Cassie, "but I've been off from home for quite some time now...he's sort of my last hope for a good retirement." Cassie buttoned her lips but looked out to him with a firm nod of affirmation and acknowledgement of the his plight for a bit of self-interest which normally contradicted the heroes' code of conduct regarding the self-sacrifice of themselves for the others, "still," he continued, "he's been in and out of foster homes most of his life, ran into trouble with the law on numerous occasions...I'm trying to stay out of it," his hands dropped and he shook his head to his shoulder, "Kai-Ro thinks there's something to him, and hopefully," he took a large gulp of air, "he'll be able to settle down, become comfortable...make a name for himself," he rolled his eyes upward as he smiled sharply.

"Good on you Kyle," Cassie responded with her polite tone that shared its structure with a more humorous, uplifting complex, "one of the few young ones to get a hold of the ring...I'm sure you'll make an excellent figure for him to follow."

"Yeah..." Kyle pulled down his chin to his armpit and blew out the excess steam pulled in through his nostrils, "but what about you now?" he cheered up and caught her glance eye to eye, "whom have you got that's crawling you over to here?"

"Todd," Cassie responded abruptly at the moment the question had come to an end. A moment of silence ensued with the two looking at one another through the filter of squinted eyes, Kyle of which nodded with his jaw slightly ajar, contemplating the ramifications of this association, "He's decided to come stay with me," She continued, "well actually, Diana sort of pushed him on me..." she attempted to pull up a smile but could not bring herself to enough focus settling for a short sighted smirk that Kyle immediately tapped on to.

"I thought he was at the Graysons?" Kyle butted in his question with a polite tone that brought Cassie out of the darker territories that she thought she'd be reaching.

"He was," Cassie lightened up as she brought forth her description, "but apparently things weren't working out..." she nodded her head in a slight confusion, "we haven't really talked about it all that much...ahem," she raised the top of a clenched fist to her mouth before continuing, "He's actually got himself into a bit of trouble...which-" she paused and looked across at Kyle further intensifying her squinting eyes.

"The school days not over," Kyle began with a compliant nod as their collective deductive ability became more evidently shared, "which means we were both called in for a reason..."

"Fighting?" Cassie blurted out, teeth forming a square orientation in her mouth as he back began to hunch down, "our boys? On their first day?" She continued, anger sipping in now more than ever.

"Now hold on Cassie," Kyle shook his head disapprovingly, "he's not my boy, I'm just taking care of him..."

"What if they exposed each other?" Cassie, seemingly ignorant of Kyle's comment, glanced her head away towards looking at the floor as she worked through the issue of pent up anger that had arisen over her, "you don't think maybe they recognized each other? The school wouldn't have called us if it was just a fit they got into, they probably really did expose themselves," she looked back up at Kyle with a wide eyes, "that's probably what this is about..." her voice turned to a small whisper, "why didn't they tell me this? Do they want to know something about me?"

"Now, Deryck isn't that dumb," Kyle attempted to reassure her, "we've already worked out most of our relationship...he wouldn't expose himself or anyone, he's taken the secret identity very seriously. Besides, that's not exactly what we were called in for was it? I for one was just told that Deryck was involved in a fight with another student."

"Yes but with Todd!" Cassie threw her hands in the air wildly as she turned about face towards the school building, "a secret identity means less to him than what brand of gym socks he puts on in the morning...he wants to be known!" Cassie furiously stammered her feet into the ground causing the loud popping noise with ever out reach of her hard soled shoes. This side of the school building indented inward with angular sides forming a small triangle shape with its tip cut off by the dual door slots of the transparent plexiglass. The large rectangular bars that formed the sidewalk passing, smoothed out into a long strip which extended into the indentation, crouching closely on the borders of the school walls, all of which narrowed off at the door frame which Cassie hurriedly approached. Two cement formed tubular pillars majestically stood out at the drawing line of the school building, the edge of where the indentation began, supporting on their shoulder was a overhanging thick and flat ceiling at the first story level where it counteracted appropriately against the rays of the sun taking away the soft glow of Cassie's short blonde hair as she proceeded under it.

Kyle simple stood stunned, watching her backside as it stammered to the door, "I was just wondering," he snapped out of his contemplation as he too turned slightly and made the necessary steps to reach towards the school entrance way, "whose the boy's father?" Kyle questioned with a less than enthusiastic expression as he passed the shade line that the overhang made upon the plateau of cement.

"That's never really come up at any of the meetings," Cassie immediately barked back as she continued to approach the door, "why don't you talk to his mother? You do still talk don't you?" she came to a pause a short few steps from the door and fluttered her eyes waiting for the tall rectangular glass plates to slide inside their side slots vacating the entrance way to let her inside.

"Yeah," Kyle hummed as he placed the tips of his fingers within the small pocket sides of his pants, feeling them stretch out against the fabric as he continued his steps, breaking on par with the wise, yet furious woman, "but, its not exactly something you ask about I guess..." he swallowed and looked across at Cassie, seeing the reflection of the inner school lighting glitter in the recesses of her eyes which never flinched from starring forward, "I don't think she's ever mentioned him..."

"I haven't talked to her about it either," Cassie took a step indoors, feeling her footing firmly on the linoleum floor of school's indoors, "and Diana hasn't told me anything...I wouldn't be surprised if Todd doesn't know...or even care."

The two entered the school's interior, a diamond like shape with their entrance way having been the cut of one point while two other points, that of the one to their left and right had been adequately appropriated with a large open entrance way that revealed the alignment of lockers and class room doors, the coloured hue of blue being taken to that wing to the left for these particular items while the hue of green for that of the left but all of which met to contrast with the peach orientation that continued indoors to the walls that immediately surrounded them; it was unlike any school they had ever experienced in their own time, all clean and well-furnished in its acquired code and pattern. At the final end, and that which was straight ahead of them was a long walkway with one door on either side, washrooms, while at the end of this hall was a larger atrium region that presumable sat centre of the school structure on the other side.

The atrium they were in took the entirety of the two stories available, its ceiling seamlessly blending into the walls but stopped short rather abruptly to allow for a large diamond shaped glass window at its centre which appeared to bow outwards towards the sun, collecting its rays and giving illumination to the grounds below. At each angular side that formed the contingent shape of the atrium were long strands of red painted sidings which allowed for various rectangular shaped windows to be enfranchised within them lending credence to what was behind them. The two most outer ones appeared to be primarily supportive of meeting rooms, that one to the left containing a long simple grey table with a stack of traditional school chairs at its nearby squaring wall while the room to their far right contained a set of couches, the longest three person one having its back up against the windows while two smaller individual seats sat stationary against the straight wall at the opposing side of it. The room to their immediate left appeared to be that of a library of sorts, e-books in their same square classical book formations sitting on those big wooden shelves lined along the only wall that they could see from their angle. Of the four rooms though, the most important one to their current objective appeared to be the one at their right, the one which had a funny square item attached to on the glass panel that sat at chest level just beside the entrance way inside, it stated: 'Main Office 001'. Cassie, immediately catching onto such labelling, proceeded in her uptight manner towards the single door sized entrance way working her way in. Kyle however, stepped slowly as he came to recognize the back of the head of a peculiar fellow whom sat on a chair with its backside facing the inner atrium.

The two stepped inward but came to an almost near immediate pause as they look at the bundled up confusion mixed with the function of haste that had developed within the workers in the office space. It was a large enough space for sure, but not to inadequately huge so as to displace its function; there were two desks with one of their ends stretching across at the centre of the floor, their edges creating a simple pathway leading into the more office proper. To their left, the desk had taken an 'L' like shape whereby it extended along the near entirety of the left wall only coming to an abrupt stop at the solid red door. The same was also applicable to that of the desk on the right which tightly hugged the outer right wall but in this particular case it continued down and turned against the entirety of the back wall coming short just at the appearance of another red door that sat adjacent to the first; they were both within a very close proximity to this back right corner. The desks appeared of a solid nature, the outer edges being firmly attached to the thick upper crust that formed the top which of itself contained a very similar colouration of the walls resulting in a very blended arrangement and although this was of notable commendation for a public school, what garnered the more attention of the two entering heroes, albeit in their more civilian like identities, was the that of sympathy for those working behind the desks plugging away at their silver topped flipped open notebooks that, hefty in size, spaced a significant portion of the centre of their desks. A tubbier middle aged woman with a straight lacy shoulder length hair and a thick blood red fleece sweater sat at the leftist most desk, her fingers hastily typing away without a moments opportunity for relaxation. Another middle aged woman with shorter dirty blonde hair that curled up at the top most part of her head likewise appeared in a similar state of mind, fingers never lifting more than a centimetre from the keyboard...the sounds of the plastic buttons completing their built in purpose grew to encompass the entirety of the room. It became quickly evident that not only were they fixated on their screens but that they were also wired into the phone buds that had been stuck within their right ears resulting an unearthly blue glow from that region; their mouths moving to speak words but there was nothing of significant relevance, nothing that any one of the two guardians could coherently regard as being tangibly important to their presence. However, as Cassie glanced around awaiting any motion of recognition from the secretaries Kyle's force of concentration had fallen upon that of the boy that had taken to the outer edge seat of which was a part of a series that lined the window composed walls that aimed outward towards the inner atrium, "Deryck? What happened to you?" Kyle looked down upon him with a rather shocked expression.

Deryck slouched down in his chair, the square cusps of his green leather like jacket bunching up above his human shoulder's which were exceptionally low on the back of the chair. His legs were stretched out as to be expected further exemplifying streaks of brown dirt and mud that ran up along all sides of his pant legs, "you should see the other guy," he let out a brief sigh while raising the back of his head against the top of the chair. The underneath region of his chin had turned to a bright red which coursed almost like veins up the sides of his jaw nearly coming in tact with his cheeks.

"That better be the last other guy...I'm tired of that reply," Kyle sharply responded pressing his foot against the ground as he clenched his teeth and looked back towards the secretaries.

"What did you do to Todd?" Cassie angrily turned jutting into Kyle in the processes of turning to angrily glare at Deryck.

"Old girlfriend, by chance?" Deryck questioned as Kyle found himself forced to turn once more towards his young lantern ward.

"Not exactly," he swiftly responded with a scoffs as he soon found himself quickly under Cassie's wrath as she nudged her chin to her shoulder squinting her eyes lowly at him with evident disdain just reaching for the tip of her lips.

"Mr. Rayner and Miss Sandsmark yes?" a gentleman's voice quickly shot through the office space catching the attention of the three foreign people while the secretaries appeared to never phase from their current implied situations. Cassie, Kyle and Deryck both looked up at a faculty member, a younger teacher for sure preferring to wear a much cheaper ensemble of simple collard white shirt and blue tie which casually fit the much darker navy coloured pants. His smile had taken the position of a uncertain confidence, he had dark hair and eye features, fair skin and a straight jaw line. He stepped through the left door which had slid into an open position.

"Vice Principle Rathisburn?" Cassie politely called out to him, her hands coming together at her waist. Kyle likewise dropped his hands out from his pockets and straightened his neck at the appearance of the young teacher making his appearance at the centre of the office space.

"I'm afraid not," the teacher bit his lip, "I'm just a teacher here, Temple..." he flowed inward to the narrow path formed by the desk edges, "ah, vice principle Rathisburn left early this morning with a severe headache..." he smirked before rolling his eyes to the ceiling, he hands coming to a firm clasping position at his sides, "which was also the case for Principle Tyler, he had a migraine."

"Well, we keep this up and maybe there won't be a school for me to come back to," Deryck quickly jutted in his sly comment resulting in an uncomfortable smile upon the Temple's face.

"Why don't we step into his office for a moment...?" Temple looked to both Kyle and Cassie, catching their eye's attention for a brief moment before showing them towards the left door with a brief silent gesture.

* * *

"Sorry, this is a bit awkward for me," Temple started up the conversation by firstly pulling away at the blue plush chair which he motioned to sit in, "the entire districts has sort of been on high alert all morning, our secretaries haven't been able to gain a moments peace and I've been," his eye lid fluttered as his head swayed slowly, "busy as a substitute principal..."

"What going on in the district?" Cassie immediately questioned as she and Kyle took to the two chairs that stood on the opposing side of the desk that the substitute principal had found himself comfortably working behind. The personalized office, presumably held by the actual vice principal, was a adequately sized rectangular shape that supported the contents of the smooth solid sided desk akin to those used by the secretaries, the chairs themselves being not all to different from the ones in the waiting area of the office space, their thick blue coating of thatched work fabric and circular black painted bars of cheap metal that worked in a semi-cradle arrangement against the ground; generally then, the decor followed a uniform of the school, all save for the floor, a thin carpet of a similar shaded blue present in the chairs which one assumed the vice principal sought out when the the retro linoleum floor of the rest of the school proved to unbearable to look at for six hours in a day. "If you don't mind me asking," Cassie smiled with her closed lips as she, along with Kyle, pulled themselves in to a comfortable position to look upon the somewhat mortified teacher.

"There's been a lot of lock-downs...a lot," he nodded his head assuredly, "much of the east coast was gone for about an hour...just like us, the principals of a multitude of schools suddenly acted strange; thankfully some managed to convince themselves to go home prior to the lock-downs occurring..."

"That's some pretty wide-spread violence," Kyle commented, pulling up his left leg to grace the top of left knee while he positioned his elbow on the armrest to use his hand to support his chin.

"I doubt as much," Temple smiled and scoffed with a small chuckle, "I've been told that the school district board is thinking of shutting down schools for the rest of the week," he waved out his hand in a circular motion, "give the police some time to investigate properly...but you know, we should kind of be used to this now," He smiled somewhat as he nodded to each person of his company, "it's probably just some alien invasion scheme..." his voice began to slow down as he looked upon Cassie and Kyle and recognized their distilled appearance, the tightening of their upper cheek region and the upward curving of their eyebrows, "or something..." he let out a deep shot of air which enabled for a deep breath, "Thankfully," He bowed his head quickly and sharply with a heavy hit before looking back up, "the worst thing that happened at our school today was a bit of a tussle between your two students..." The pupils of his eyes slid along the bottom edges, "now it's not really normal for the school to get too concerned about minor fist fights, but I'm entirely new to dealing with it and I wasn't quite certain how to classify these kinds of events..."

"What exactly happened?" Cassie slurred out, her attention having peaked up to Temple's rambling. Kyle dropped his leg and leaned forward clasping his palms together over his lap, weaving his fingers through one another in the process.

"Well it would appear that your boys are quite the scrappers in addition to being quite creative...?" Temple slowed down in his pacing proposing the bit on creativity as though it were a question, one eye brow raised in a puzzled manner, "it would appear that Deryck," he returned to a serious tone with thumbs twiddling together on the desk top, "uh, climbed into the ventilation shafts of the school and worked his way up one story through clawing or something till he reached the exit way at the back of the school..." Cassie and Kyle proceeded to nod, going along with the story while Temple was disappointed at their lack of response, "yes...and that's not necessarily the strangest bit. Some witnesses state that Todd was well prepared for Deryck's exit from the outside grate and that when he finally did exit the two of them went straight to blows..."

"Uh-huh," Kyle tossed in, vocalizing his understanding.

"Mrs. Sandsmark," Temple turned his attention to Cassie whom politely stood by, "Todd took quite a beating...I'd have to say it was like Deryck was using bricks to batter him up." Kyle suddenly scoffed out a small chuckle which merely incurred the disturbed expressions of both Cassie and Temple which immediately shook him up forcing him to turn his attention towards the nearest wall allowing for Temple to continue, "He's quite bruised but he's refusing any medical attention."

"Where is he now?" Cassie immediately stepped in with her plea, her eyes ferociously growing open as she leaned ever more so forward towards the desk.

"He's in the hallway, left to the atrium," Temple placed his hands on the edge of the desk, clasping them tightly, "I'd like to believe this school takes these kinds of things seriously, but the two seemed to just spontaneously work things through the moment the fight had 'died' down so to speak...and while that may be all fine, I have developed an increasing concern for the damage done to the school's HVAC system, though I'm certain that the school funds see that it be covered, Deryck has been rather silent about why he was in there to begin with, not to mention how he got in the first place and crawled the way he did."

"Granted," Kyle nodded his head with a small smirk, "I'll be sure to let you know."

"In the meantime," Temple continued, "if the school district authorizes us to stay in service, it might be best that the boys take some time off until Rathisburn can properly examine the case involving them...I'm sure they won't mind."

* * *

Jace, the tall speedster, stood impatiently at the side of the clean white computer desk of which one half of his current care takers, Jai, was sitting at working away at the distinguished keypad built within the desk top. "We've got to figure out why these lock-downs are occurring at all over the schools on the East coast," Jace's toes began to pulsating, tapping increasingly harder against the crisp floor of the basement complex. Jace had taken to a position that encroached over top of desk, just above Jai's shoulder that was more or less comfortable in in a plush swivel chair. Both sets of eye were upon the screen, the largest one that stood directly ahead of them that took up a good portion of the wall in the space provided upwards of the desk. Jace had pulled the cowl of his costume down behind his neck retaining the full body encompass that the suit provided; the red hard cased boots, the black leggings that reached up to his sides where the centre was taken by the triangular scarlet image that flowed from the sides of his shoulders down, the gloves that meagrely reached beyond his hands strapped down tightly with two thick black straps, it was a gift from an alternate self in the future but it nonetheless contained upon the centre of the chest the circular logo of white and the yellow lightning bolt shining through it, the symbol of the Flash. "There might be source from where this is all coming," he pulled the fingers of his right hand to cup his chin thereby taking his position of contemplative thought, "where did you say that the reptiles were seen?"

"Rhode island for one," Jai immediately quipped back, his hands laying relaxed in his lap as he swayed very minimally on the chair stopping just short of the metal arm rest from pounding Jace's sides, "but there have been some more reports..."

"No," Jace nodded his head, dropping his raised hand, "I want to see location, that's the key..." he bent lowly on his back, keeping his attentive gaze on the screen then quickly reasserted himself back up at a straightened posture, "could you grid all the sightings of the reptiles on a map?"

"Hmm," Jai started with a momentary burst of thought, "yes of course, one of the better features of this program," he continued in affirmation. His hands abruptly raised above the desk line and slugged away at the keypad thereupon, swiftly the black lettering of the nation's schools had diverted away, becoming dots on a map that spanned from the east to the west; a multitude of them all blurring the map to quite the darkened hue within the upper eastern regions where the states were few and the school houses were plenty, "what exactly can we get from this? I know it's a mess, but you're really supposed to be zooming in on a region to region basis."

"Then can you highlight all the schools that reported the presence of the reptiles?" Jace hastily spoke countering whatever words or comments that Jai may have suggested, his complete focus upon the evolving mystery around him. Jai's finger tips took to the keypad once more which was quickly followed by the red lighting of some of the dots on the screen, more specifically the red colouration became dominant in the Rhode island and dispersing elsewhere into other state's land but stopping short a few miles out of its radius, "the source may be somewhere around there," he nodded his head up towards the patch of land that formed the island.

"How do you know there's source?" Jai quickly interjected looking upwards at the young speedster.

"Reptiles have to eat and sleep, do they not?" Jace responded in a whisper like tone that could be construed as a sarcastic response... "But wait," he quickly peaked up in his voice, "what's that there," he extended the index and middle finger of his strong right and towards the screen where the red was most dominant and pointed to Jai's attention a little black dot that had slipped through its reports.

"So, the majority of schools on the eastern coast admit to strange acting figures of authority but everywhere within a decently sized radius of the Rhode island comes under the attack of demonic looking lizards," Jace took a small gulp while rotating his hands behind his back clasping one to the others wrist, "all except that one...what do we know about that one?"

"There's like fifty schools here that have reported...maybe they're messages just got scrambled along with everyone else?" Jai quickly summarized his feelings.

"I doubt as much, even in this day and age, nothing strange goes by unnoticed and since it happened at all the surrounding districts and schools, I have to bet on their being something peculiar about this school in particular...pull up its file and lets search for recent activity, anything that happened today, reports made out to the district head."

"Harrison Heights High School," Jai mumbled as he pulled up the files orientated towards the single different school, "not much..." their eyes scanned through the pure text document that dominated the entirety of the page, "but they did manage to send out a report to the district office...a fight between two students broke out; it's probably unrelated, that stuff happens all the time."

"Would be," Jace placed a firm hand on the top and leaned forward placing his beady eyes upon the names, "but this report was sent out by a Mr. Shawn Temple..."

"So," Jai responded with an edge of disgust.

"Save according to this, the current vice principal is a Mr. David Rathisburn..." Jace reached into satisfy the curiosity that had arisen in Jai, "when has a simple teacher ever been called upon to act as a link to the individual school and the district head?"

"You're really going to bite on this one," Jai swiftly responded with a tone of seriousness, "Its rather flimsy, they could just be sick."

"But it's the only thing we've got to work on," Jace pulled himself upright and took a nod towards the steps leading out of the complex, "and..." he trailed off awkwardly, "I want to know what makes this school so different."

"Maybe no one noticed it?"

"Too much of a coincidence, all those other schools saw something..." Jace turned towards the entrance way and prepared himself to speed, pulling his cowl down from behind his neck, "see if you can narrow down any specific locations on Rhode island, I'm going to check out the school, get some words out of Temple."

* * *

"Todd!" Cassie voice rang out shaking the kitchen area of her apartment, "what were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself exposed!" the one sided discussion took to more of a rant than the intention of teaching and moulding of which she had hoped, "I'm not going to lose the life I forged once more to the antics of some teen hero who finds glory in his line of work...now hold still," her voice sharply declined to a lighter perspective tone.

Todd was sitting uncomfortably in a wooden plain base chair extracted from the more cumbersome dining room table on the other side of the wall to his right. His hands crumpled around his sides tightly as an anger expression in his dazed eyes evolved but nonetheless stared forward at the pale blue wall ahead of him. The cuteness of his frazzled young features had seemingly been lost, the vibrant black hair now having reached pinnacles at various edges of his skull however primarily damp and flat at his back. The most shocking of his features however were his cheeks, the bone structure of which he was so keen of had seemingly slipped downward giving way to the appearance of torn red skin with acts of purple that boiled around its entirety making the space underneath his sparkling blue eyes appear sullen. With lips bent outward, Todd had lost his beauty for the moment which became further enfranchised in his mind when Cassie leaned down to him and wiped away at his cheeks with cloth that felt at the very least, damp to his burnt skin. "Ou!" he withered in pain as he felt the side of the rough cloth seemingly scrap away at his skin rather than ail it from the pulsating pain of blood vessels breaking and reforming, "Stop it!" he threw up his hands and gently motioned them towards Cassie to move her but never quite coming in contact with her. He turned his head to his right shoulder, looking through the entrance into the entertainment room he believed would dull the pain more effectively than that Cassie's barbaric prodding; entertaining bliss.

"Well maybe you shouldn't get into fights with other people," Cassie nodded her head as she kept down with a lowered back to make eye contact with her young acquaintance, "you may have some god blood in your system but your still a human in fragility...you just can't toss yourself at a lantern and expect yourself to be OK."

"I could have taken him," Todd retorted back with some anger allowing for Cassie's gaze to pass into him, "I'm not scared of some kid with a power ring."

"Maybe so," Cassie raised upward to a more comfortable standing position, "but you should still be careful out there with your personal life, you should be lucky it was just Deryck you got in a tussle with and not some student..." she let out a large shot of air from her lungs, "you could have really caused some damage to us."

"Deryck?" Todd questioned as he turned his misshapen face to look up at her, "you know him?"

"Kyle's taking care of him; he's a lantern also..." Cassie tapped her foot on the ground allowing for a brief few seconds to pass for Todd to lose interest and allow his head to swing freely towards his knees, "your mother used to date him."

"Absolutely riveting..." Todd muttered to himself. With his senses aimed towards the top of his seated thighs, it was not difficult to feel or even hear the rumbling that had begun in his right pants pocket, the scrapping of the fabric against his bare inside leg. Without hesitation, he proceeded to slip his hand inward in an attempt to extract the source, the rectangular glass topped device with its dark blue sidings, a mobile phone device. Tapping the screen with a thumb, the screen began to light up a pale blue drawing his attention inward to it.

"Ahh..." Cassie groaned. The pain in her voice transitioned in too deep short breaths that immediately drew Todd's attention to look upwards noticing that she had raised a hand to palm the top of her forehead which leaned down, her legs wobbling instinctively told him that there was something not quite right with this child of the gods.

"What's wrong?" Todd peaked up to question with much sympathy.

"I don't know...just feeling a little sick I suppose..." Cassie hastily replied never letting the hand drop from her closed eyes, "you should go play or something...I'm going to take a rest..."

"Really?" Todd fell into puzzlement.

"Yes," Cassie started to make her way for the entrance way outside of the kitchen, seeking for the comfort of her own room, "you've got some fun heroic work you got to do don't you?" she pondered through the light gruff that had overwhelmed her voice.

"Yeah," Todd nodded turning back to his mobile soaking in the glare that it gave off, "someone just called."

* * *

"Mr. Shawn Temple," a flurry of blurred speed came to an abrupt stop revealing the scarlet clad speedster Interval, slowing to a conventional walk where in which his boots produce distinct clicking sounds with every step. He arrived at the school building, facing the side of the building in which a large indentation was present at its centre, the side walk having narrowed inward towards the dual plexiglass doors from which a humble looking Mr. Temple was stepping out from, his fir green jacket tightly wrapped around his body, head bowed but slightly tilted to his left, "It's good that I managed to catch you before you left for the day..."

Temple however first responded with an upward glance then a cough back into a raised fist, he took a audible sniff of the air raising his chin up in the process taking a deductive look at the teen hero standing before him, "you look like a Flash," he said through a swollen throat that he was trying to cover, "but not 'the' Flash at the moment," he cleared his throat to reach more clarity.

"I'm new to this world," Interval nodded as he wandered up close, coming to a pause a few paces off from Temple's front side, "but I assure you that I serve the same purposes that my predecessors gave their lives for."

"That may be all fine," Temple sized himself up but found himself to be just a small bit on edge over the tall speedster, "but I'm not too sure it's our school that needs that kind of service at the moment," he commented all while keeping to a calm collective voice.

"You know much about the school lock-downs?" Interval spoke inquisitively.

"Only that most of the schools are probably shutting down for a week until a proper investigation can be undertaken..."

"What happened to Principal Tyler and Vice Principal Rathisburn?"

"Sick," Temple abruptly shot in, "I've appeared to have collected whatever they had gotten..." he grunted up with a underwhelmed laugh, "but I take it that's not why your here?" his voice suddenly range with sincerity putting Interval on the spot.

"This is the only school in the district that didn't report anything...unusual..."

"Well there was no lock-down, I'm afraid to in your case, the most dire thing to happen to us today was a fight that went through our HVAC system..." he slurred in his final words as he saw the interest beginning to hit within Intervals eyes, the kind of gaze that saw him but seemingly went through his being.

"What was the reason for the students to be within the ventilation grid?"

"They didn't tell me anything, I assumed it was just kids doing what they do...might cost the school a great deal, but it's not exactly an issue that I'm supposed to be dealing with."

Interval took a deep breath in, "Could you give me the student's names," he quickly blurted out but Temple momentarily shook on his feet, waddling in a weird formation.

"What purpose would they serve?"

"Perhaps," Interval nodded his head slightly, up and down, awaiting for the words to reach him, "there was no lock out because the source present at all the other schools was scared, maybe by a student who became knowledgeable of it..." his face shot up and glared at Temple, "perhaps the students actually did saw something, but they didn't tell you because they were afraid you wouldn't believe them or perhaps for another reason; either way, I need to talk to them...they'll listen to me."

* * *

Nightwing raised his right leg and allowed for the sole of foot to pound into the flat top of the waist high barrier that circled the perimeter of the rectangular fashioned building he stood upon. The composition of stood as a strange tar like matter, small plastic like pebbles glued together through the heat of manmade instruments, "it's been like ten minutes..." he angrily shook his head as he looked out into the distance; the sun slowly sitting turning the skies into an assortment of pale reds and orange, that cascaded across the window pressed buildings their steel mooring that arose from the cement that kept it stationary all the way to the peak of sky, "where is that lantern boy!" he continued to shout with disdain making him uncomfortable. A quick look down showed the near empty streets, how unusual that to be in such a major hub of population; vehicles of various lengths and abilities were parked on the side ways but the dark tinted windows of at their fronts and sides could not share their contents if they be people and of this much, he concluded that he was alone in a physical sense, a great deal disheartening if his acts of heroism were to go unnoticed.

"Alright, stop the internal bickering," Iota suddenly appeared above him, "I'm here." The teen lantern, absorbed in his ethereal green energy, hovered down to the top of the building in his full lantern garb; the hard cased boots the work strongly in patterns around his knees, the gloves that reached up to his elbows in sharp shard but left his fingers free to roam outward, the hexagonal shapes that dotted his shoulder sides and the centre of his chest clarifying his lantern association with the two white triangular pieces with their points inverted against one another. "So what are we getting at here?" His feet pulled together as he came close to the ground, arms raised to his sides, elbows curved to let the hands shoot outward from his body as a source of balance. Landing on the building top to the side of Nightwing, he brought his arms inward and crossed them across his chest, clutching his sides, "still upset that I beat the snot out of you?" he cheekily questioned with a turn of his head to Nightwing.

Nightwing slid his foot along the small ledge letting gravity take its full effect as it dropped sharply to the building top soaking in to the spongy black surface, "I could take you in my Nightwing gear."

"Would you like to put that to the test?" Iota continued with his comical behaviour, striking a smile but unable to capture Nightwing's full attention.

"That's not what were here to deal with," Nightwing firmly responded reaching into the serious hero within him, "something's up with all the schools across the nation, there's been a lot of panic, lock-downs and school closures..." he then squinted his eyes, "awesome...I don't need to go to school anyway."

"Oh great," Iota let his commanding edge drop, "man, you lose your state of thought so easily when something comes along to benefit you...you no doubt have all these weapons at your disposal to do some real good and instead you focus on making yourself look better!"

"You might be on to something for once," Nightwing nodded in the teen lantern's direction, "the resources at my discretion, I can use it to triangulate the source of this disruption in the school districts..."

"That's not exactly what I was getting at..." Iota broke in attempting to bring back Nightwing to reality, "Kyle said that you and I were probably suspended for the next week," he wobbled back and forth on both his legs when suddenly the upper side of his head appeared to bounce up with puzzlement, "then he started acting weird, just got sick suddenly..."

"Yeah, whatever," Nightwing placed a finger upon his utility belt, tapping onto a grey square retainer that immediately popped open, slanting outward away from him revealing a thin blue top of a device within. A quick slide of his fingers and the rectangular device became present in the palm of his hands which he greedily pulled up to within a foot out of from his chest; it was his mobile device. "Someone's been texting me for the last two hours."

"Who?" Iota wondered as he took steps to ensure a viewable look at the mobile device's screen.

"Well aren't I the best detective in the world?" Todd quickly retorted, clutching his phone and holding it up to the farthest he could reach away from the approaching Iota using the elbow of his free hand as a buffer aimed upward at the teen lantern's chest. He hunched his shoulders and looked up at the taller boy with a sneer, "I don't know, told me to come here..." a simple tap on the surface of the device saw it to close to a black and the young ceiling crawler proceeded to place it back in the ajar slot on his belt.

"So that's why we're here? So far out..." Iota strongly interjected; "to talk to your pen pal?" he let his pace of pace of breath slip into a slower calmness and looked across towards the aching building. The near dozen story building story they stood upon seemed rather small now in comparison to all the others, "there could be a war going on in this country," he gently placed his hands on the ledge feeling the smooth metal panel surface with the tips of his free fingers, "and I'm running your errands..." he closed his mouth and leaned his head in ever so slightly over the edge, "and where did all the people go..." he mumbled silently to himself.

"I'm certain this someone knows something about our current situation," Nightwing continued in an authoritative voice, "It was transmitted through to me through my Nightwing files and my people weren't able to trace it..."

"That's reassuring," Iota responded, pounding his clenched fists onto the ledge.

"He knows are names," Nightwing responded shortly with a cold breath. Iota swiftly turned to look concerned at him, "yes, I'm not exactly sure how and though my people insist that I don't be dealing with strangers, especially of this kind, I reason that this 'pen pal' of mine is a friend...and given the situation of our schools, a friend with some information can be extremely useful."

"You know you sounded pretty inspiring right there."

"I like to believe that the essence of leadership is embodied in everyone whom call themselves Nightwing," Nightwing responded with his chest puffed out and hands firmly at the sides of his waist taking to a heroic pose of sorts at the ledge of the building, but the demeanour soon dropped when a startling fact approached him, "that doesn't sound like Iota."

"Interval," Iota turned with a smile, "nice moves you got there, please tell me your Nightwing's phone pal?"

Interval nodded in compliance, standing nonchalant away from the ledge awaiting the turning of the two other young heroes to greet him more properly, "how did you know about us?" Nightwing slipped in a serious question amongst some minor fanfare between the two others.

"When the lock-downs occurred I immediately set down to finding their locations on a broad set map," Interval proceeded with his ramifications with the monotone that they had expected of him, "all the school districts in this region reported seeing sights of reptilian like creatures..."

"Like the one we saw," Iota jabbed with a surprised look.

"Oh," Interval tipped his chin to his right arm pit, "you did see it then?" he looked up glancing at each hero individually, "it appeared to me that all schools were affected save this one..." he let a small unconventional smirk form upon his face, "the one that you two attended...A school fight? I had to know what happened there, could have led to some answers and once I connected your civilian names to your present aliases with the League's files, I could not help but pursue necessary ends to finding the source of this disruption in school activity throughout eastern North America."

"Yeah, well, we scared that thing off good," Nightwing quickly brought his tale in the moment Interval finished his, "we went through the school's ventilation grid to try and get a hold of this lizard thing, but it managed to slip out through our fingers."

"We?" Iota question with disturbance at Nightwing's tale, "I had to crawl through the ventilation shafts, you should have been on the other side waiting for the thing instead of waiting to break your hands against my impressive shields," he finished allowing for the arrogance to take full head with a devilish grin.

"I take it you were met with illusions of one another as being something else?" Nightwing nodded with affirmation at Jace's question, "It seems to me that is a defence mechanism, I encountered such an instance at a local high school in which it appeared to me that the principal was a demonic creature."

"So these lizards have the ability to thought project illusions?" Iota wondered.

"That is a possibility," Interval continued, "but I doubt as much since the though projections were sent outward towards father out schools which never reported there being reptiles in their buildings...it appears to be localized to this region."

"Rhode Island?" Nightwing pondered, puzzled by the conundrum presented.

"Yes," Interval responded, glancing once more at both heroes, "the largest frequency of reported creatures comes from around here so I assume there's a nest somewhere around here, a place where they convene, perhaps to some master command which is capable of the thought projections..."

"Do you know of any places around here that could support that and not be seen?" Iota swiftly pondered, "I mean, there's like over two hundred schools in this region of the country alone, not to mention a sizable population that wouldn't let the strangest of things go unnoticed."

"There is one place where something big could hide with some secrecy," Interval spoke out, seeking out some means in which to satisfy their inquisitive persona, "a cave in happy harbour that the justice league used to work out from...I thought at the very least, we should go and check it out."

* * *

On a secluded region of the island mass, a mound of molten rock and dirt, forged with a purposeful large opening sat on the ledge of the Atlantic Ocean. It was lightly surrounded by a forest which continued to escalate further on either side of the cavern hole making an ample shroud of secretive importance, a border naturally designed to leave one unconcerned of what lay beyond it, but a simple view from above certainly revealed this formation to be more or less recently formed in the past few decades, this post having seemingly been long abandoned by its former owners. The trees were rather thin and gangly awaiting the accumulation of years and growth to make them suitable for an archaic park display while the ground surrounding the cave hole was composed of hard clumps of dirt scratched away from the earth's surface and laying amongst one and occasionally overlapping one another upon a loose layer of sand that weaved into all its sullen crevices.

"This is the place?" Nightwing questioned as he made his decent towards the cavern a few yards below. The fire of his foot thrusters reached their end forcing the application of glider wings, the shock of bright blue intensive strength fabric, underneath his arms to assist in his slow drop to the cave top.

"He came to a stop didn't he?" Iota quickly responded as he too took to a descent downward but unlike Nightwing, the teen lantern stood upright and used his ring as the steadying factor for his fall allowing for a brief smirk and applaud for himself as he watched the bat-boy form a crouching position as he embraced the inevitable tap with the cavern top.

Interval boots flared into an abrupt stop sending clumps of the deep seeded dirt upward ahead of himself allowing for a short spread of sand that reached up to his knees. He looked around the region, blowing out a the deep held breath of air from his run as his vision glanced along the dark water that spanned out for some distance where the fog gently covered the region of buildings and land masses on the other side of the divergent river; however, this was the least of his issues, a quick turn towards the cavern revealed some very unusual aspect about it. While it maintained some normalcy associated with a cave, reaching upward at least one and half stories high, the crumbling well-trodden cinder block side road leading up towards it, and the various mud splatters and dirt clumps that spawned over top of it; it was most certainly the unearthly mixture of a purple and pink glow that shined through its cumbersome opening. The soft stones of its inside walls further shared this glow, rick-rocketing its beams of energy off its sides and outwards, "you guys better get down here and take a look at this..." he called out to his two cohorts whom had begun to seek out a easy decent from the top of the cave structure.

A quick recognition of the ground below and the two had taken a leap to meet up with their speedster friend at the cave entrance which immediately caught their interest as the glow spawned outward against their back and glowed around Iota's emerald shield; puzzled, the two quickly turned around to come on par with Interval and looked inside, the sheer massiveness of the cave entrance with that that glow appearing to have an unfortunate physiological effect on the three of them. Nightwing at the centre, Interval to his left and Iota to his right, the three of them raised their hands over the top of their brows to get a better look inside.

"This is the part," Nightwing spoke up through their statutory silence, a smile embracing his lips.

"What part?" Interval barked back, dropping his arm for the moment to turn to his centre cohort.

"We're going to stroll in there," Nightwing continued, "find the problem and bring it to its knees..." he took a deep sniff and dropped his arm and preparing himself to make the necessary steps inward, "lets follow the leader," his voice broke through as a soft command, reaching inside of his fellow heroes bringing them to an understanding that their next move was down this winding passage, the seek out the strange glow's source as they had done in their last adventure, "we're all going to be real heroes at the end of this."

Nightwing took his first steps forward, the heavy soles of his boots clipping against the cinder block brick pathway shaking the small cluster stones that had broken off. Soon as he had reached the dividing line inward, Interval and Iota took to the motions to follow suit their hard cased feet producing the similar effect along the coarse pathway producing a heavy popping sound that soon cluttered their internal hearing senses, "let's stay ready," Nightwing started glancing over his shoulder at Iota but suddenly his foot came into contact with a rubbery like substance that was at the very least a foot high, "what is this?" he curved his head forward looking down at his extended right foot which had come into contact with the strange feeling item.

"Is that what I think it is?" Iota puzzled as he came up close to Nightwing and crouched down to closely examine what had become stuck under the bat-boy's foot, "Some sort of tentacle..." he questioned as he looked back up at Nightwing whose white shielded eyes appeared to have grown larger, "how far is this go?" the thick circular tentacle was long and soft in its rubbery nature, the top side being that of the dark purple hue while its apparent underside was somewhat pinker and sticky as suddenly revealed upon the movement of Nightwing's foot which shared the backside has it had collected and displaced some of the light sandy dirt that had once sat on the ground for so many years.

"Wouldn't this place have some sort of security?" Nightwing turned to Interval for answers, "this place was used by the Justice league at one point wasn't it? Interval?" he prodded at the speedster but his vision was solely focused on the path that lined ahead where the gently flashy glow became more and more prominent, "what have we got now?" he barked out to himself turning back towards the forward pathway along with Iota whom swiftly rose with a pondering expression, impressed by what had laid ahead of him and yet was totally uncertain as to what he was seeing.

Following the path line created by the purple tentacle the three teen heroes quickly grasped a giant bundle of them all of them of varying lengths and thicknesses, overlapping and hanging along the soft stone walls, sticky and slimy all upon it. Further inward it appeared to grow and encompass the entirety of the walls, but still a source of this monstrosity was left to be investigated...an investigation that would not go untapped.

The three heroes eventually met the end of this tunnel that lead them downward on a slant where they came upon the atrium set up, an open circular space in which all of the activities of the Justice League had taken place multiple decades ago; however in this state of condition, no such operations could ever have unfolded. While arena like in its size, the room was entirely possessed by these twisting tentacles which had embraced every facet and furniture orientation, a large circular table that sat at the room's centre had been full harnessed by these tentacles that floated off of its sides, but this was of less interest that what was upon it. Slanted slightly upon the surface was a glowing cylindrical pod, a light pink colouration, which was suitable for the body of a young person of which was seemingly visible at least in a shadowy state within. Smaller tentacles, less thick than the ones that had taken to the floor ahead of them, grasped around the pod keeping it in check upon the table top as well as apparently holding the gelatine like container in its current tubular state.

"What do you suppose that is?" Iota spoke up as he stepped forward from Nightwing's side.

"Looks like some sort of pod," Nightwing firmly stated as he pressed his own feet down upon the weird tentacle like floor, absorbing its spongy tastes as he headed towards the large table at the centre of the cavern hole, "definitely keeping the place aglow for now."

"I don't suppose that one of these is your little friend?" Interval pondered as he pointed out a long curvy lizard's tale of a lighter purple variety that appeared to jump out from the tentacles and rotate around slightly through the overlaps. Soon the three of them started to notice little feet with sharp yellow stained claws that crushed through the tentacles, long fierce teeth that sprouted out from even longer snouts that bit through the crevices formed from the bundles, while a multitude of tails waved around wildly from around the walls, floor and the doom like roof.

"That's definitely it," Iota responded with a false sense of certainty, his head zooming around the area watching as the tails began to number in the hundreds, "well, one of them," he said to much comical effect.

"What can we make of this?" Nightwing brought up as he he took a leap from the floor onto the table top, landing awkwardly, seemingly rolling through his ankles to get towards the capsule that brought light throughout the room.

"Alright now, something's definitely wrong," Iota paused to state as he pulled his hands up, eyes transfixed upon the floor with shock expression in his white soulless slots, mouth ajar where teeth exposed.

"What is it now?" Nightwing turned back to Iota with a scoff but almost immediately he came to look back at the floor but only briefly before turning his focus to the walls all around him.

"Our little friends are gone..." Iota spoke but his brief discovery was short lived as a sudden loud noise, a set of explosions of rabid energy and force, punctured their ear drums and shattered their moorings, sending them to their back sides. Nightwing, the closest to this big bang suddenly felt his legs turn to mush as he fell chin first to the table top, his nose coming in brief contact with the cheeks formed by the tentacle strands that clouded the table top. "What was that!" Iota shouted out with a groan as he tried to raise himself back up on to his feet, he looked across the floor where Interval had already recovered and was already looking up at the table top, ahead of Nightwing's crumpled body at the slanted capsule.

"Someones in there..." Nightwing voice swelled out as he lay sprawled out on the top looking up at it with the widest glare he could muster.

Iota and Interval looked up at the ceiling, feeling the intensity of the heat that was formed by a large beam of purple energy that had shot from the cylindrical container and through the ceiling, "it drilled a hole through at least what? Ten feet of solid rock?" Iota turned to question Interval but could not find a response from the speedster whom could not draw himself away from this powerful source of energy.

Nightwing continued to crawl on his back towards the table ledge looking upward at the tall spire of pink like energy that had sprouted outward, "Guys, do you not see that? There's someone in there!" he threw his hand up and pointed it towards the inner front side of the casket where a purplish humanoid had suddenly reposition in the tube, fallen forward perhaps towards the farthest point of the capsule's edge.

"Why can't you just leave me alone..." a deep mortifying voice appeared to hollow out through the cavern echoing off the walls, "you young heroes..." it continued, "young justice...you've scared off my babies!"

"I think its talking..." Nightwing muzzled out from clenched teeth.

"Yeah, Really?" Iota sarcastically responded with spite.

"What do you want?" Interval stepped onto the tentacle ridden floor, towards the humanoid shape that had appeared within the capsule, careful in his footing, hands forged into heavy fists ready to be used at the first sign of trouble, "what have you been doing with the schools?"

"Why couldn't you just leave my babies alone...you've scared them," the voice repeated with an added twist, "I was doing a favour to us, all us young people...we we're going to live forever...forever young in a world without authority...free of these adults."

"What does that mean?" Interval struggled with the continuation of his questioning in his ambivalent monotone voice structure, "a world without adults...that would only be fun for the kids for maybe a day or two, a week at the most," his lips became numb while Nightwing and Iota were forced to await patiently for the developing conversation to turn in their favour, "there would be no power, no health care...kids everywhere would eventually put themselves at risk, this world, in this time would cease to exist...no, if you as powerful as I take you to be, I very much doubt that this simple could possibly be your plan."

"You are an adequate thinker for your age," the voice continued. The three became increasingly intrigued by the appearance of finger like apparatuses that now tapped on the outer bow of the capsule, "you remind me of the boy wonder...what a schemer, what a downer, he needed to lighten up...no," it shifted gears towards a different tone of though, "I don't plan on killing the adults, their services are much required as you so suggest, but their minds, their life force, that is not something that is required to live in my world...I shall take it from them and use it!"

"Use it for what?" Nightwing sprouted up onto his knees and forced the deepest chord of his voice.

"To firstly regenerate my shattered body..." the voice, while still a sound of a whisper, shot up in its volume and as it the echo trailed off, the world within the cave around them suddenly appeared to jolt slightly in an upwards direction followed by the tentacles beginning to sway slightly along the rock formations above which also began to shake violently, "I shall bring an end to this before it has surely taken its toll on me once more..."

"What are you?" Nightwing shouted out as his hands too began to form heavy fists.

"I am Bedlam."

Cracking, creaking, forced movements of stone on stone, the cave could only orientate in one way; that of the movement towards collapse. Nightwing balanced the toes of his left foot on the table while pulling up the sole of his right foot flat on the table top, with a simple jump he made a dash onto the ground floor with his allies, turning slightly from the centre of them back at the capsule which slowly crept into an infinite state of light, the purple humanoid figure dropping from a sizable view.

"What's it doing?" Nightwing questioned them.

"Master plan?" Iota posited the only answer that popped into his head but regardless could only reach a question.

"I bet that beam of his is more than just a rock mover," Interval looked to his allies individually before refocusing on the light show ahead of them, "I'd have to say it's probably the embodiment of his physic energy...he's doing something to the adults like he did to the principals earlier today," his brow crinkled up under his cowl, "they were getting sick," he gently whispered under his breath.

"Ah well," Iota turned back to the tunnel way they had just passed through, "that's far out...but it probably couldn't be as way strung out as that," his voice grew shallow and disenchanted with the turn of events that had come upon them, "I don't think they're just sick anymore."

"Couldn't let them hurt me again...young justice," the voice boomed throughout the cave, "had to turn them against them, had to take out their knees and leave them screaming in pain before I brought it all to an end on them. I control them now, their mentors, their heroes...they will enact their end."

"This is going to hurt," Nightwing coldly commented as he positioned himself on par with his new friends, centred amongst them once more.

"For once," Iota commented, "I'm going to have to agree with you."

At the front of the cave entrance, standing as polar opposites to the heroes were those whom they had come to regard as their care takers, the ones whom provided for their needs whether they choose to accept or not. Cassie, the tall muscular child of the gods, stepped forward from the centre grouping where the Flash and Kyle Rayner stood off to her sides. She wore a red sleeveless full body suit that accurately fit the form of all the curves of her slender physicality, while the only abstraction to this was the thick plated black boots that were smooth all the way up her shins and although the suit itself was adequately in line with the femininity of the Wonder Woman family, as was present by the small gold stars that ran up her legs, these boots were most certainly evidence of a personal flair, the thick soles seemingly of an iron core that literally shook the floor with every step inward. Nightwing was immediately drawn to her eyes, the glistening blue that rivalled his own had been turned to a delicate purple that spilled out of the iris and glowed through the entire visible portions of the eye-ball.

Kyle, off to Cassie's left side opposing Iota, was in full green lantern regalia, the hard encased gloves that stretched up his form arms, the boots that crossed up his shins, the square shoulder guards that crossed through his open neck region and the mask, the two jagged ends on each side that touched upon his temple and fell down to the sides of his cheeks, and of most important note, the green lantern logo that took up the majority of his chest. Iota, his young ward, had found his attention drawn to the eyes slots, the usual pale green that up the entirety of the slots in Kyle's mask had been replaced with glowing purple like energy that shot out from him like wisps of free hair creating a flame of hatred. Kyle took steps forward to come on par Cassie's possessed body, open and freely prepared to take part in what combat may consume of them.

The Flash, the much taller girl with the fiery red hair stood to Cassie right, just slightly behind her assuming a pose that allowed for a quick run, hands ready at the sides, bent at the elbows. She stayed by her normal costume with the scarlet red boots and black leggings that were not much different from Intervals, however the overall designed differed in the upper body sector in which the entirety was of the standard scarlet reaching up towards a cowl where the scape piece had been cut out allowing for the hair to roam loosely in her speed and unlike Jace, she had a personality to her design with a tight black leather like jacket hanging loosely on her shoulder's allowing for the various straps and metal ends to hang loosely over her chest and stomach where the proud logo of the flash legacy was present. Interval was immediately drawn to her goggles, the normal yellow hue of them having changed to a glowing appearance of light purple in line with the two other heroes she stood with.

"Dude, I am so outclassed..." Nightwing scorned out as he, along with both Iota and Interval, backed away towards the round table top.

"Really" Iota spoke attempting to grasp some sarcastic response but came across as bitter and tipping towards a scared sweat, "never thought you'd be one to back away from a fight."

"If this Bedlam character is serious about what he can do," Interval started up again but noticeably in a more frightening tone, gulps interjecting through the monotone, "then we have to remember that our mentors are being drained of their life energy."

"What does that even mean?" Iota quickly shot back.

"I don't really know right now," Interval said with abrupt uncertainty, "just be aware that they're not in control of their own actions, it's inside their heads, controlling them...they're still them and we have to find a way to pull them out of it before it becomes permanent upon Bedlam's regeneration!"

"And how do we accomplish that?" Iota angrily retorted as he watched Kyle seem to load up his ring hand, pulling it up into a fist forward and letting the blazing light of the ring take over. A look of puzzlement proceeded by stunted fear arose on Iota face as he watched Kyle raise both his hands ahead of his right shoulder, palms spaced out ready to grab onto something cylindrical. Suddenly the hard constructs of a missile launcher formed within his clasping palms, resting on his shoulder, the long tube and the bulb at the end awaiting its firing date, "oh I don't know...time to get going!" Iota shouted out as his last words as he rose from the ground suddenly, clenched fists, tighter teeth, and dove forward, propping himself flat above the ground to ram up against his mentor before he could get the shot off.

Interval suddenly stepped into super speed, throwing himself forward at The Flash but quickly diving out of the way towards the side walls of the tunnel, darting along the stretched tentacles like a ladder. A ugly scream from The Flash was followed by a complete turn to tapping the Speed Force as well, driving towards the exit way attempting to not only catch up with the younger speedster but to put him down for good.

Nightwing, unlike his fellow teen heroes, recognized the predicament he had succumb too; not only was this a mismatch in the rankings of power but now even the environment, of which the bat clan pride themselves for using fluently, had been placed at a disadvantage to him since its tentacle flavoured settings threw off whatever tactile sense he could have hoped to gain from the the damp and dark features that the majority of abandoned caves had. Backing up slightly until he hit the ledge of the table, he darted around it awkwardly with a high pitched scream to get to the other side behind the powered up capsule thereby putting as much distance between the possessed Cassie and his tender body.

Iota dove into Kyle while the half ball topped rocket torpedo up above his shoulder and crackled in the distance top of the tunnel. The two lanterns tumbled up against the side wall scrapping along the invulnerable tentacles that clasped tightly to it and rotated from there to the ceiling of the tunnel and on to the other side like a gyro-screw before hitting the ground where the force of their speed pressed an imprint of Kyle's backside into the hard ground as they locked shoulder to shoulder, Iota forcing such a position in hope of getting an early edge right on the start of their battle. When the tackle came to an end through the application of friction, Iota quickly pulled his arms up and away from his current foe, pulling himself up right from the ground and walking over top of his mentor's limp body on the ground, foot to stomach then to face, making a quick on foot dash for the exit way where he propelled himself up to the stars.

Interval had managed to make it outside of the cave leaving a small trail of dust that was immediately picked up and amplified by his possessed mentor, The Flash, whom ran up to him at a paralleling speed that appeared to increase as he himself slowed down as thoughts of strategy and avoidance clouded his mind. A simple look over his shoulder proved to be a potential downfall as The Flash more than made up for the slowing pace it took to do so. Their feet caused a sensation across the quiet waters of the nearby stream that stretched out for miles and connect well in advance with the Atlantic Ocean, a getaway if the failure to keep the distance between them in short circles failed. Flakes of the not to clean water formed into large wake patterns as they bodies glided along the surface of it like carefree ice skaters, Interval performing large bounding circular formations that forced the Flash to wind and bend downward till her hands reached the surface and came in contact with the flashing streams that escalated in their collectively growing wake.

"Interval? Do you see this?" Iota shouted out from his high distance slightly to the side of the cave for it became plainly obvious that the thick band of energy emitted from the capsule in the cave, the size of a decent tire, had shot out directly from the cave top towards the sky coming to a stop a near mile upward forming an even larger ball of its substance, shooting out small shards of lightning from its essence but this quickly eroded to a lighter concern in light of what was occurring on the ground floor. Outside of the meagre forested region that sprung up like a semi-circle around the cave proper were a myriad of people, older people to himself, hundreds of them standing plainly with the only exception being those glowing purple eyes. It was not hard then, even from his distance, to notice that while these current adults in their presence numbered in the hundred, there were certainly more in the thousands that had taken to the streets and were pressing towards the cave to join the others in their séance.

"I'm kind of busy at the moment- ugh!" Interval attempted to shout back but was quickly torn away from this part of concentration with a groan having resulted from feeling a force of wind that pounded like a jack hammer against his back. It was on his turn inwards back to the shore that The Flash had extended herself, throwing up her hands in circular motions pulling for a tunnel of wind and energy that would sweep the young speedster up from the stream top and slide towards the dirty mulch of the shore. Interval's body lost control of itself, all senses scrambled, as it dove awkwardly along the the water surface, breaking into tossing and turning towards the beachhead where he felt his muscles finally give in on its hard surfaces, shredded beyond normal human repair and strained with pain that could not be alleviated; minor difficulties for when the acts of the Speed Force kicked in. He slumped up on his bottom in the small indented crater he had formed and watched as the Flash in her flurry of speed approached him.

"Come out little boy," Cassie voice scrawled into Nightwing's ears resulting in a light sweat that trickled under his costume, "Todd..." her voice groaned. Nightwing fell slowly to the floor, one knee down and felt his head underneath the table pushing back on the tentacles that prevented him from an absolute submerging.

"You're not Cassie!" Nightwing shouted out, "get out of her!"

"No, I'm not," Cassie voice grew ever more sly and slippery, "but I like it, in here...she's so beautiful and powerful...I know all her thoughts," Nightwing took a deep gulp and he clenched his eyes shut, "She doesn't like you? How could she? You start fights at school, you jump to conclusions and get yourself in trouble, not a day goes by where she doesn't wish that someone else will take your burden, I mean look what happen at the Graysons?"

"That wasn't my fault..." Nightwing's tone grew to a tired drone.

"No, you know you were partly to blame, that's why you left didn't you?" Cassie's body appeared to take a deep breath inward, "I can feel Dick Grayson's soul coming into me...should we hear what he would want to say of you."

"Shut up!" Nightwing pounded out with anger.

"It's no wonder that Diana doesn't trust you, you're a nightmare to her family and friends, an impossibility...your too much of a liability, a loose end, that she wishes she could just close up and forget about, she was so thrilled when you decided to join the bat family, not because it meant that you would be a part of something good but rather that you'd be out of hers. And then there's that mother of yours...I don't quite feel her yet, but from what I am understanding now I know she doesn't love you, she abandoned you, she doesn't want you to exist; her greatest failure is allowing you to live beyond conception."

Iota flipped his chin to his shoulder, looking overhead at a shot of emerald energy that hit the corner of his eyes, "Deryck," Kyle's voice called out, but as the boy turned to look at his mentor he noted the purple eyes the glowed out from under his mask, nothing had changed, "What a problem child you've turned out to be, but what could I have expected, you were trouble at birth...it must be a blessing to your parents that they had left you behind rather than deciding to raise you on their own."

"You're not Kyle!" Iota angrily barked back as he propelled himself backwards towards the stars, but the possessed Kyle continued to fly forward, reaching the heights that Iota gained upon.

"No," Kyle's voice whispered out, "but I know what he thinks of you. A legendary weapon, that's what this ring is," he held up the extension of his back ring hand and tilted his head with a smile at its glow, "a tool to do good, selecting from the noble and leaders to be stewards of this peace...and what of you? You stole it and with your human hunger, you sought to satisfy your needs, your no noble person! Can't wait for the guardians to find a way to get that ring off of you, but it's fused to your finger isn't it? Maybe we'll get to cut you into little pieces!"

"Just shut up and fight!"

The Flash towered over top of her young compliant assistant, scarlet boot to scarlet boot. She raised her fists to her sides, elbows bent, and looked down at Interval through those menacing purple tinted goggles, "your unbelievable," her voice echoed triumphantly, "you're so keen on never tapping in your to your full potential," Interval grunted as he pulled himself up with his hands to get a good look upon her, "not that I would want that."

"You're not The Flash..." Interval groaned with a delicate whisper, deep breath ensued as the muscles of his body began to return to normalcy.

"No," the possessed Flash's voice shot back with a happy smirk, "I suspected you were the smarter one of your friends...and what she thinks of you just confirms it..." she nodded her head from side to side, "she's afraid of you, they all are...what you've done, what you can do...she just can't wait till your gone, out of her and her brother's life."

"I'm a threat to her power..." Interval responded as he pulled his legs up, propping himself up to his soles, "and that's not a question!"

"You know all this?" the possessed voice turned gave way to one of a more diseased disappointed scoff.

"Yes," Interval spat out the excess saliva from his mouth and prepared himself for his next strategy, "and I don't care." foot after foot, Interval made a drive towards the cave blustering up the coarse panels of clumped dirt. Within seconds, he was atop the cave looking upward of the long column of pink energy that fluctuated with white rings all the way up, seemingly infinite, "Iota, what do you say we switch partners?" he called out above.

"Fine with me!" he grunted through his clenched teeth as he accepted a blow from Kyle's fist to his exposed stomach.

"I'm going to get Nightwing," he called out once more recognizing that his cohort in the air may not have heard his statement. Looking along the crusted shore lines in the distance where he was sprawled out moments before this, he saw The Flash making the distance between them sparse. A short gulp, and Interval proceeded to toke to sliding down the rock pattern cave top and circle inward once more towards the glowing epicentre of this unfolding disaster, "partner swap?" Interval called out from his stunned state as he saw Cassie crossing the table top towards the capsule, "Nightwing?" his voice slipped out with a large gust of exhaled air.

Suddenly one of Nightwing's hands grasped the table ledge leading to the appearance of the tip of his bat ears and beady eyes, "Yes please..." he spoke softly in a whimpering tone. His eyes suddenly shocked up wide as he saw Cassie take a swan dive at him, hands open and ready to wrap themselves around his neck. He put both his hands on the table end and pushed hard up against it, throwing his body backwards towards the cave wall, bouncing ever so slightly along the spongy tentacles. Raising his hands and letting out a high pitch scream. He prepared for the inevitable crush on his frail human like body when suddenly Cassie' blonde hair and red suit features blurred to his right, snapping away from him saving him the intense persecution that would have been performed upon his corpse. Quickly reacting, he raised his head and looked around the room quickly catching only a glimpse of Interval's last step as it broke through another speedster's stride, Cassie seemingly in tow.

Smoke suddenly shrouded the entrance way forcing the Flash to slow down to a simple step of which all normal eyes could view. She nodded her head from side to side, attempting to pierce her vision through the engulfing shroud which dispersed in strength throughout the entirety of the cave. Suddenly a black humanoid figure arose from the centre, a few paces away from her, its pointed ears signifying its mythological purpose, "My turn!" Nightwing spoke dryly with a deepened voice.

"Head's Up Iota," Interval cried out. Iota watch stricken with delight as the limp body of Cassie propelled up into the air crushing into Kyle's backside, bending his spine and throwing him off completely. Kyle attempted to shake the feeling off; arms flailing as he suddenly came to notice a darkened figure that had shadowed over top of him. A quick glance upward and he saw the flat side of a car sized hammer, that unearthly green glow that he once mastered alone but this was not his. With a loud thud against his emerald shield, the force of the gravity bound hammer pressured him to the river side like a falling star, crashing into the pond of dark water sending shards of the liquid substance into space creating quite the sizable waves that reverberated back to the shore.

With the rage building inside of him, Kyle recreated the crashing wave he performed moments ago as he rose to puncture the surface and levitate to the top of it awaiting to return to his glorious battle above but such an attempt to do so was stunted by the sudden appearance of Interval, vibrating so fast in a circle all around the lantern that to view him in clarity would be to imply that he had been there seconds before and yet never left, it was like the blades of a helicopter at full throttle. Stricken with disbelief, Kyle proceeded to move towards the top of the circle formed, to get out of the kid speedster's grasp but this began to prove futile as the water of which he was atop of seemed to increase in volumes, somehow growing in a circular formation all around him. Fist extended and raising slowly he attempted to shoot the speedster from his track speed but to no avail as the circular storm of water and wind began to increase and shorten all around him, engulfing him, turning against him, ruining his hope for survival. The emerald shield could only hold for so long against the splashes of water that hit him like a semi-truck at every turn of the speedster's foot. It was not long till the adult lantern had expended himself of his energy, and fell to the now spotless surface of the river bed, the speedster successful leaving him unconscious, unable to stew in his defeat.

* * *

"What did you do to her?" Interval complained as he and Iota entered the cave once more. Gentle wisps of smoke had taken to the higher atmosphere of the interior giving way to Nightwing, balancing himself over top of a well knocked out Flash, sprawled on her stomach, eyes closed thereby returning the transparent hue of yellow to her goggle pieces. Interval quickly dashed up to him, firmly placing a hand on his shoulder and threw him away from her resulting in him giving way to a loud yelp as he hit the tentacle laced ground.

"Can't hit what you can't see," Nightwing commented as he flipped onto his back side and looked up at Iota whom came to cower around Interval as he laid his hands underneath her head to check a pulse.

"She would have gotten rid of all the smoke with her abilities," Iota retorted looking across at Nightwing with his tired eyes, "easy," he nodded.

"I wasn't sure about her metabolism," Nightwing blinked rapidly, "so I gave her as much tranquilizer as I had when I first dropped the gas pellets...enough to knock out a horse," he continued with a smirk, "twelve of them..."

"Well, she's breathing fine," Interval affirmed as he stood and turned to his allies.

"What did you do to Cassie?" Nightwing puzzled the notion over her defeat.

"Locked those feisty arms of hers," Iota crossed his arms over his chest and smiled with his delightful arrogance, "and buried her in the back," he let out a cough before proceeded to a hushed voice, "sort of."

"So what do you suppose we are to make of this?" Interval turned his attention to the casket and the being had apparently been in it all along, the muzzled features of a head, torso and limbs of a dark purple hue that stood indifferent to the pink capsule and energy that shine above it, through the cave and into the open sky, "Bedlam...?" he threw out his question as he stepped forward, "we've defeated them, shown our worth, can we reason ourselves out of this?"

"I bet your all so happy," the thin voice of the being returned shocking the bones of all three of the surprised heroes, "you're so well developed, able and capable as any adult super hero that you model yourselves after? Do you feel it? That youthful creativity slipping from your minds? I thought just maybe you fought them because of what they represented, I was wrong, you just want to replace them," the three heroes took a few steps back, never looking away from the capsule where the small simple tentacles that surrounded its circumference began to slip down from their positions, "you have no difficulty growing old, becoming useless, I know you all now through them...One of you has experience multiple life times, more than any single man on this earth and another committed enough petty crimes and even more, enough at least to be locked permanently behind prison bars."

"That just comes with growing old," Interval immediately sparked back, pausing in his steps hoping to gain some balance where his friends had lost, "I have grown fast for my age, I know that, but I don't want to change who I am, who I'm going to become just yet..."

"I offered you all immortality...and you spat in my face!" The intensity of the characters voice catapulted to new heights shaking the room and throwing the teen heroes from their feet. Nightwing clutched to the table ledge to stable himself and looked up at the capsule along with his fallen comrades and noticed instantly that the surrounding layer of its outer form was beginning to crack, the pink energy within seemingly breaking through with a spike of steamy breath, "I'm powerful enough...I can take you all on!" A sudden explosive reaction tossed the teen heroes senses into a scramble as they found themselves breached whatever strange toxins emitted from the cracked capsule. Tumbling to their knees, all of them looked up from their crumbled states and gazed upon the open casket and being there within. It was a young kid, no older than twelve, in a full eggplant coloured suit that extended from the tip of his toes to the ends of his fingers leaving only the open space of his neck exposed along with his head. With the gently purple iris coloured eyes, the boy was a shock to them as he was bald and more so paler than any other person they had ever set their vision upon, it was a strange beauty that young lad had manifested in himself, "I just wanted to do something nice," Bedlams voice turned to something sweet, a childlike demeanour, "Why did everything have to change? It all changed when they got older? Where are they now?"

"It's just a part of being human I guess," Nightwing stepped forward seeking the necessary words to avoid further disaster, "but another great thing I suppose is that there's always another generation to take over from them...like we have," he rang out with uncertainty.

"I regret the day I decided to become human," Bedlam closed its large eyes and leaned back against the un-shattered side of his casket bed, "my first memory of being alive, being born...I thought I would envy your kind, but as I got older I realized that was no longer the case...I sought a return to my youthful ventures, a return to a state of happiness that I could share will all the others of this generation and I've been trapped here for decades, far too long waiting for my regeneration to complete...but now," he opened his eyes and glared down at the three heroes with disgust, "it's precisely because of a new generation of young heroes that my dream, my gift, will not come to fruition...I hate young justice." The three heroes looked at one another puzzled by the young bedlam's deductions of their behaviour, "I will be the end of it, I will suck this world dry and make it my own devoid of your kind!" Bedlam's eyes began to heat up with the energy forms that had emitted from his beam above and quickly without notice a beam of energy shone out from palms of his hands, aimed towards Interval and Iota whom, despite their enhanced abilities, were two slow to avoid contact. The thin strands of energy locked onto the teen heroes' foreheads rendering them incapacitated, frozen in a stunned setting, eyes unable to blink away the pain, "you think your so much better because you're older? You will suffer like them all out there!" Both heroes began to feel their strength slip away from them, absorbed into the rotating complex of energy that was Bedlam.

"Alright I may be a bit crazy," Nightwing jutted in, hand raised to cup his chin while his right toes tapped on the jutting tentacle leg, "but there's got a be a reason I've been left out right?"

"You are unlike the others, not like those whom so eagerly seek to be old and deprived of their joy," Bedlam responded angrily as he continued to expand his strength over Nightwing's allies attaining groans of discomfort from their dry lips, "don't you understand what I've giving you? Your mind is so soft, fertile in imagination; I can let you keep this forever!"

"You're not strong enough yet though are you?" Nightwing assumed a more serious tone of voice as he looked intently upon the Bedlam character, recognizing the sweat strolling down his brow, the clenched teeth, the folded skin around his eyes, "you can't quite leave that pod of yours...it's because my mind is so childlike that you choose them over me...they're more developed, more mature," he shook his head furiously at the notion, "the adults were easy for you because for the most part, they had reached their potential...but my two friends here, they haven't quite tapped it have they? I think you left your regeneration cycle much too early," Nightwing scoffed as he approached the table, his boots now grinding the weakened tentacles into the stone surface of former League headquarters, "you miss the experience of having that innocent mind, that's what it is, your just afraid of what the exposure to reality of humanity might be, what you've missed in your time as being one of us...everyone, especially the adults, they all underestimate me but I have the strongest weapon in the universe at this moment."

"What's your point?" Bedlam scoffed back, still focused intently upon two of his three foes.

"You're not strong enough to leave that pod of yours, not yet...but what if you could? How much can you take before you expend yourself completely? How much of my mind will undo you?" With a grunt, Nightwing leaped onto the table and tipped toed at a surprisingly face speed towards the capsule. Bedlam grew to a state of shock as his eyes wavered towards the bounding body of Nightwing whom within stepping distance, leaped once more high above him gliding his way into the beam that shone above him out into the world above resulting in the massive explosion of light. Bedlam's head began to rattle from side to side, angrily, happy, switching emotions at every possible twist of his neck, broken, confused, smiling, laughing; however Nightwing was suspended in the beam of energy collapsed and unable to move any parts of his body, an expense perhaps paid to save the world from a global catastrophe.

* * *

Interval placed a solid hand upon his forehead, rubbing away at the fabric crinkling his short hair within. Waking up on his backside, he attempted to pull himself upward as his vision was readjusting to the absence of lighting in the cave. Instantly he recognized the disappearance of the spongy strands that cuddled along the floor which now was comprised of solid stone, a more capable surface to run along. He was nearby to the table, a short metre away, a quick glance from the centre revealed Iota experiencing similar sensations as he propped himself up against the cave wall, shoving his fingers into the crevices that the large boulders made and pulling himself upward. Ahead of him, at the front of the table, Nightwing laid flat on the floor, arms straight, legs straight, but his head was curved slightly towards them and did not emit the white light that normally encompassed the slots for his eyes. The Flash still laid down, less in comfortable position by comparison, some distance back in the cave; still knocked unconscious by whatever drugs Nightwing had managed to get his hands on. As he attempted to pull himself upright, Interval felt the swift kick of a powerful leg to his lower back, "Out of the way!" a woman's high yet sharp commanding voice boomed by his side, he sprawled out to the cave walls looking ahead at Nightwing as a tall muscular figure darted towards his side.

She was a buxom woman, wearing tight blue tinged pants that bordered on black, red boots that reached up to her low calves with unnecessarily thick heels given her height alone. A shiny gold belt clasped around her waist, angled down in slight at the centre where a dual 'W' emblem struck out amongst the enfranchised stars that ran around its entirety. A red sleeveless shirt comprised her upper body, stopping short of the neck line where second but much larger double formation of the 'w' formed along the top shirt line extending throughout the shirt line that wen under her arms and cradled her back side tied to her body by a simple black neck band with gold crusts that circled on the bottom an top rungs. Strong silver like bracelets conformed perfectly to her forearms thereby completing the uniqueness of her variant costume. She let out deep breaths from her luscious lips, her pristine blue eyes wobbling back in forth and the perfect tear shapes of her exposed eyes while her bouncy vibrant black hair spun around on her shoulder's and she dropped to a knee and held Nightwing's head in her firm hands; It became obvious to them, Interval and Iota, that Wonder Woman was the first to snap from Bedlam's control and arrive on the scene.

They somewhat found themselves relieved as to what appeared to be some notable people making entrance way into the cave, including amongst the front runners being Kyle and Cassie, both of whom were shaking uncontrollably with fluttering eyes and cranky necks, "I thought you said you buried her?" Interval spun out to spite Iota.

"I did, it just wasn't six feet..." Iota swiftly responded to the complaint, "or anything."

"You ran away..." Interval interjected with a single chuckle. He took a deep sigh has a laid his hand upon the round table, its flat grey top finally being exposed in its actuality, the gold logo of the JLA, those three letters, being dimmed from their once glistening beauty by a thin layer of dust, "what do you suppose happened to Bedlam?" He turned to Iota but got a gesture of the shared lack of knowledge that he had.

"Away from this realm," a deep voice boomed inward taking the boys' abrupt attention towards the entrance way where a notable Martian had taken a stand. The Martian Manhunter, the whitest of skin that formed around his plastic humanoid skin was in his standard costume, a black one piece suit that extended from his shoulders up to his neck and cut off at the shoulder's revealing his spike like fingers which caressed the side of his thighs. A red cross of wide fabric was upon his chest with two yellow metal tabs on either side holding the long luxurious cape over his shoulders and down to his ankles. Three spike like apparatuses extended outward from this forehead combed over the top of his head, with a heavily distinguishable brow over top of those damp red eyes made for the most menacing of sights within anyone whom called themselves a hero, "His essence has left this plane of existence...not death, but life elsewhere," he pulled up his arms and flattened them inward against his stomach, "you should not have to worry about him for the time being." Iota and Interval squinted their eyes as they shook their heads in compliance to the main person behind all the League activity.

"So what do you three think you're up to now?" Kyle posed the question as he approached the circular table, "haven't been here in a long time..." he became startled however as he looked over top of the table at the sight below, Wonder Woman cradling Nightwing's seemingly lifeless body, "is he going to be alright?" he turned to a sympathetic tone as Cassie brushed up beside him and circled around the ledge of the table to reach the situation developing on the floor.

"His wounds are all gone," Cassie commented as she leaned in. Wonder Woman had pulled down his mask to reveal Todd's handsome features, the crusty blue skin of blisters and bruises having returned to its inhuman perfection, "what happened to him."

"He jumped into Bedlam's energy regeneration cycle," Interval interjected from his backing distance, his shoulder's hunched above his head, "overloaded his psychic intake..."

"His breathing is really shallow," Wonder Woman looked up at Cassie before returning to Todd, "this is why I said no more kid teams..." she spat out with a hush, "he's probably catatonic...not aware of what's going on or what's happened to him."

"So nothing's changed," Cassie bitterly responded but to the ignorance of Wonder Woman whom clasped her hands together to form a strong two-handed fist which she rose over top of her head and pounded upon the boy's chest send a chain reaction of nerve endings throughout his body.

"No, he'll be fine," Wonder Woman responded with a grace of hope and happiness, a short smile being stricken upon her face at the sight of Todd rapidly opening his eyes to blink.

Todd's head suddenly bolted up shocking Wonder Woman and Cassie back away from him, "What happened?" he turned to them, "How long was I out?" he pleaded with short breaths. "Diana," he looked to Wonder Woman, eyeing her up and down, "Do you care about me? No, wait..." he looked up the ceiling and got a grasp of where he was before returning her attention to her, "why do I care?...just answer the question..." he said in haste.

"Of course I care for you Todd," Wonder Woman smiled as she clasped her hand around the young hero and helped back onto his feet, steadying him till he got control of his balance.

"But do you want me in your family?" Todd pondered with a lighter tone when he came to see the collection of people that had accumulated in the spacious cave.

"My family is always open to you Todd," Wonder Woman responded softly, placing a hand under the boys chin and raising his bemoaned state, "you're still my nephew no matter what happens, I won't let you go out into the dark on your own."

"Why don't we ever have closing like that?" Iota question as he approached Kyle around the circular table.

"I don't even know you," Kyle retorted sharply, "and despite some similar characteristics between us, I don't think we're related in any way."

"Yeah, but we could pretend?" Iota shook his shoulders with a smirk.

"So have you guys been planning something here that we should know about?" Wonder Woman spoke in her commandeering voice as she sharply peered into the minds of Interval and Iota whose hearts jumped up a few steps when they felt her breaking through.

"Yes," Todd strode up to her side, "as young heroes, we are often conflicted with the morals and teachings of our elders which in turn have been presented by their elders and so on. On occasion a new generation stands beyond this edge, questioning the values that these elders stand for and what purposes we young heroes are supposed to serve in this ongoing battle against the sickness that engulfs our homes and families- but in abstraction to this, it is often nice to have a place where we can be ourselves, where a teen blessed by fate with special abilities can just be themselves without the torture that a mentor sometimes inflicts upon them, we need to be healthy individuals and the only way to transition beyond the secrets that we keep and the frailties of existence in our public lives is to be able to come together, to work like a team, as we have shown here...we are the next generation of heroes, we are that team..." he looked up at Wonder Woman with a facade of self-confidence, "So, Diana, will you give us the opportunity to show ourselves once more?"


	16. Young Justice Beyond 4

Young Justice Beyond #4  
Volume 1. Story 3  
Horror of the Metal Men

* * *

Panting and moaning, the lungs of the young speedster Interval were on verge of collapse, "what's happening..." he fumbled to say, "must keep running," the words echoed on a continuous loop with his lips never moving. All thoughts numb, the nimble speedster focused his energy upon the feet of which he relied he so heavily relied upon, the slick scarlet appearance of the boots that so tightly wrapped around his foot. "This can't be happening?" he heard his voice in fear, a booming sound that seemed to reverberate from a distance, not from the tip of his tongue. The question repeated itself, an over dub upon the imperative to run, and in that moment he saw the expansion of his feet, the growth of the boots, the spreading of the soles and the smearing of scarlet dye as they moved faster and faster breaking way into a single blur line, an infinite movement of which not even his adapted eyes could hope to see. "This can't be happening?" the question appeared once more from trembling lips; in an instance he raised his head from the unseen floor, shot up in a dire need to do so, and saw up ahead of him the endlessness of the speed force, its unchallenged energy that sparkled throughout all the blue spectrum with shards of black lightning rods that broke through this sheet of endless space breaking it down into indiscernible compartments; he had gone too far this time, too fast to be pulled free...dark and darker it went till the lighting had clouded his perception of the world's head; time, the people and civilizations fluttered throughout his sight of vision, the twenty first century, then the twenty second and within milliseconds his home, the twenty-eighth which passed by him without a hope of a simple greeting. He was to be alone forever, at the end of time while all the more transcending it in the way that it existed in the minds of many; what a faulty concept it was to them in their linear world, but to him it had become everything, a desire to have what the simple minded took for granted...alone, surrounded by darkness, his greatest nightmare.

* * *

"What have you done to me?" Iota clawed at his hands; the ring had disappeared but this was the least of his worries, "No..." he whimpered under a deep hush of his voice. The once former teen lantern had become the emerald energy that had defined his power. Though his suit remain intact, the signifying white triangles aimed inward at one another, his fingers, his face, his flesh had become green, hard and unapproachable for he quickly found himself feeling nothing, no pain, no pleasure; all those existed in his mind now as his chalk like fingers, the straight edge that they had become, scrapped up against one another coming up with nothing but a noxious sound of glass being grated, "how did this happen to me?" he looked up into the mid night sky. His face, devoid of his original spiky black hair, had turned to the smooth glass of the emerald tint, his nose, eyes, and even lips were devoid of anything notifying them as such. A panic worse than anything he had ever thought of before arose within his individual thoughts when he learned he could no longer feel the interior of his mouth, perhaps the tongue and teeth still existed, but of these such things there was no need to check through the traditional nerve synapses that now failed to fulfil their natural purposes.

"I'm sorry Deryck, the guardians weren't able to get that ring off of you, but I've got some good news as a result" Kyle, the elder lantern in his life, floated down from the star lit skies, the endless wonder of space, with a smile. In full lantern regalia, he looked upon his young ward, "they've decided to make you an honorary Alpha-Lantern, the greatest rank anyone could ever achieve within the corp."

"But I'm green?"

"Well, there are some side effects to the process," Kyle cupped a hand to his chin as he flowed freely in the empty space analyzing the bizarre changes that had taken into effect on his friend, "but just think of what you can do now devoid of any emotion or self-interest thought...you'll be the most perfect lantern ever!"

* * *

Todd lay openly on a body sized lawn chair, the kind that had thick straps, a pale green, that wove in and out of each other wrapping their ends around a metal tubular frame. The frame towards the back third was gently arched upward thereby allowing for the young minded boy to press his back up against it for the sake of allowing his eyes to roam the soft seas ahead while being in a well-tested and acceptable position of comfort of which he could never see himself arguing with. Out of his Nightwing gear, he settled for a soft black velvety tacky button up shirt that hung loosely on his shoulders and short blue shorts leaving a large portion of his legs, though already a necessarily strong tan, exposed to the sunlight of which he enjoyed as it bounced around the fine grains of the sand that crisply clasped the bottom rungs of his chair. Peaceful, calm, collective, no negative emotions caught onto his mind as he leaned his head against the top of the chair and closed his eyes to allow his body to soak in the entirety of the environment. This feeling soon passed however as he came to feel the presence of another being, one standing over top of him blocking his absorption of the golden rays, all feelings suddenly sunk, dropping to the edge of panic as he pulled his head back straight to view his current tormentor, "do you mind? You're blocking the light?" he disgustingly shot out, eyes wincing to get a clear look.

"Ah come on," a sweet playful voice interjected into the boy's brooding. The source was soon learned to be tall sultry woman; luscious red lips, perfectly edged eyes with a glistening green tint, ruby red hair that flowed over her perched shoulders in curls wearing a small blue top and even shorter bottoms, "you promised we would play today Todd," she leaned in and smiled.

"Play?" Todd spat out as he pulled himself away from the back of the chair, "I don't even know who you..." his voice trailed off as he looked to both his sides with a strongly shocked expression, "where did they all come from?" his eyes widened to unfortunate glares as he found himself becoming closely surrounded by similar women, all as randomly being as the first one to steal away his sunlight with their just as beautiful looking bodies, "No! Leave me alone!" he shouted out, closing his eyes and waddling on the chair flexing its fabrics crossing thatches to the fullest extent. All that returned to him though was insufferable giggling and sly comments about his presence and his sharp looks. A deep pit developed in his stomach as he felt the weight of one of their bodies drop on the edge of the chair. A quick peak revealed the unevenly clad ladies to number in what felt like the near hundreds, "Get away from me!" he winced in pain has he tried to roll off his chair but couldn't quite get to the edge, but no matter where he moved he could not escape the firm grasps of the girls hands all over his body, stretching out his tacky shirt, aiming their delicate fingers to the buttons and smoothing along his legs, "Stop it!"

* * *

"Ahhhh...!" the dual harmonic scream bounced off the sound tight cave walls, snapping Todd from the serene state of sleep. Grumpy and no less distressed, Todd pouted as he pulled his head up from the plush dark blue pillow that connected onto a large sleeping bag, the thick blanket layer cuddling his body well over to his shoulder blades. His head shot up suddenly and looked across to his left and right sides.

"What's wrong with you two?" Todd planted his gloved hands against the coarse floor of the Justice Cave, propping himself upright, his Nightwing gear still present around his body save for the cowl which hung loosely behind his neck. His ocean blue eyes were sleep deprived, blinking slowly and holding for long pauses upon closure. He licked his dry lips and gathered the shocked expressions of his new colleagues.

The three teen heroes somewhat composed a triangle on the cavern floor, Iota and Interval's heads being the closest to one another at one edge of the triangle; however, neither one desired to stay in a such a formation, opting for raised backs out of the comfort that their body sized sleeping bags provided. Interval was blessed to keep his cowl on, the minimal lighting from a portable electronic vase like lamp at their centre glinted his eyes to invisibility behind the lukewarm goggle pieces, though his teeth were clenched down and yet somewhat chattering, the two brackets rubbing against one another. Iota retained his distinct angular mask but it was powered down from its natural glow, a normal mask now with no power which was unfortunate as it became evident to his colleagues that a string of sweat was running down his forehead, glistening in the light and speeding in terminal velocity with every deep breath he felt to make out from his fear. Todd comprised the lower end of the triangle, his feet somewhat angled against Intervals so that his head was adequately spaced away from that of Iota's lower limbs.

"Suppose I should thank you though," Todd continued sheepishly, "woke me up from a terrible nightmare..."

"Oh really," Iota let out a brush of air as he attempted to chuckle through his loud fit of air filled gulps, "how does that go?"

"It was such a great day at the beach; the sun was shining and everything..." Todd eagerly, but not so enthusiastically, continued with his strange tale as he pulled up his knees under the blanket sheath and clasped tightly around them with his interlocking fingers.

"You had some freaky nightmare?" Iota prodded, continuing the smiling charade.

"Yeah," Todd nodded, "it was the most perfect beach day ever, all perfect..." he growled before he limped his lips into a whimper, "then these bikini clad girls and their intolerable giggling and touching," he grew coarse with every voice, his head reverberating in disgust "wish I could make them all go away."

"Oh, is that all your complaining about," Iota commented, dropping to a sarcastic monotone, a blank stare now becoming obvious in Todd's direction, gaining his eye contact. He hung strongly against his out stretched arms, spaced to out to his sides by a foot gap.

"What about you peeps," Todd peaked up with a smile, "got something you'd like to share with the team leader?"

"Nothing," Iota dropped his defending styled demeanour, opting back to normalcy, "just a hard floor to sleep on...still beats other places I've slept in," his head dropped to his side as he attempted to pull his legs free from the overarching covers, flapping out rapidly from the wrapping predicament that it forced.

"I'm good," Interval said as he too proceeded to make himself sparse from the bag that kept him warm throughout the night, "don't sleep much..." he nodded his head, "just a bit unusual for me I guess."

"It's our first day in the Justice Cave," Nightwing leaned forward as he too proceeded to pull himself free, "what do you guys wanna do first? Check out the rest of this cave?"

"Let's find some action," Iota interjected as he rose to a full upright position, shirking off the coil of the sleeping bag.

"Remember," Interval proceeded in a warning tone as he too rose to a standing position, "this cave is on loan to us from the League, it's still their property, we can't just be rifling through everything like it's ours...there's still a bit of clean up that they're dealing with for our benefit."  
"Man, let's just take advantage of them," Todd quickly retorted as he gained his footing, a simple hop up to his two feet, "let's give this scene a run and see what we can get out of it."

Interval's head shot up as he looked upward to the dome like sphere roof of the cave and then all around the room passing his gaze through the assortment of wooden bound crates that had stockpiled along the sides. He came to an abrupt pause when he noticed across the way was a large rectangular object against the wall. Though more box like in orientation, the object spanned the far off wall stretching a significant distance from the floor up to the ceiling, and despite what meagre lighting was available from the lamp, he could distinctly make out the primary component of the object in question, monitors, one of which was central and large, shining a loose strands of reflective white light, "they've still got some computer technology, maybe its operational," he turned back to his team mates and politely nodded his head, "maybe we should give it a run down, see if its compatible with the way we fight crime."

"We have a way of fighting crime?" Todd questioned as he and Iota decided to follow their speedy ally, whom unusually stepped slowly, towards the far off computer system, "guess Bedlam hit me harder than I thought..."

"Yeah, what the heck were you doing?" Iota spun out to question, "and..." he squinted his eyes, "what happened to you in there?"

"This thing is ancient," Interval commented as he felt his hands onto the slanted panel that extended outward of the large wall size monitor screen above, "like really ancient."

"Let's get some lights..." Todd butted in with enthusiasm, "Lights! I call for Lights, one hundred percent," Todd picked up the lantern vase by its oval wire holder and proceeded to fling it around the room madly anxiously awaiting for the turn of the ceiling into a white monolith of soft glowing watts, "how ancient?" he raised the lantern to eye level and looked in Interval's general direction causing him some minor distortion in vision when he turned around to face him.

"Yeah, but you're a time traveller?" Iota thoughtfully throughout with a calm voice, "isn't everything here pretty much ancient to you anyway?"

"Really?" Todd peaked up, "Time traveller? How far in the future can you go?"

"Well Todd," Interval clasped his open palms together and glared across at the interested Todd with a small smile, "if you bring the lamp over here for a moment, maybe we can just find out how old this computer is by comparison and you can finally put that brain of yours to good use."

"Todd?" Todd shockingly responded, somewhat ignorant of what Interval had asked as the map drop to his thigh and rolled along the pant leg of his Nightwing leggings which reverberated the sound of wired electricity. He raised up his free left hand and pointed his index finger towards Interval and turning his head slightly with a smile all while keeping his beady eyes upon him, "I see what you did there," he nodded his head before proceeding to pull his left hand behind his head, reaching for the thin ledge of his cowl piece, "I'm a keep this thing on from now on."

"Just give me that!" Iota raised his voice as he slapped away at Todd's right hand immediately clasping the handle bar that shot up freely as a wire like extension from its slim mass. After a quick scowl towards his fellow teen hero, he headed towards the computer console where Interval awaited patiently.

"Fine," Nightwing firmly placed his hands to his waist, "you think I need light? This mask has over twelve different forms of vision including night."

Iota rose up the lantern to head level as he came up close to the monitor, watching the glint of the turned off screen affect his sense of depth perception, coming on par with Interval, he lowered his head to look at what Interval had come across. The board of which extended at a slant out from the monitor screen was of a silver like texture with the various keys appearing to be of a more yellowed ivory which was immediately excused as being such through the temperament lighting provided. It was a sizable key board, nearly two feet in width, with the ivory toned key pad being numerous along it stretching throughout the entirety of the screen, "what did they do with so many buttons?" he questioned Interval.

"You have to think that the League had a lot of special operations," Interval swiftly responded as he felt his hands up the keypad, feeling his fingertips lightly on the diving buttons under his light strength, "all of which they had to work from this central location...all these buttons probably did a countless number of things."

"Cool," Nightwing suddenly appeared between them, "lets press every single one of them till something happens," he concluded with a tone of happiness surrounding his eagerness.

"Do you honestly believe that any of them would be active now?" Interval swiftly responded with his affirmation, "all this equipment would have been comprised years ago...none of these frequencies would actually be usable...still," he tensed up prior to reaching a more easy going behavioural pattern, "we can see if anything, even the most remotest thing, is still operational."

Interval traced his fingers up to the top of the keypad, centre the cumbersome board below the monitor; with a simple flexing of strength, the buttons below his finger flinched and were immediately sucked into the board till it came on par with its top. Instantly the bland decayed feeling of the keys was whipped a way the internal lightning system that gave the key pad life, extending in its block like patterns through the entirety of the board. Within seconds, the screen began to flicker, flashing up into a bright glowing dark hue in preparation of booting up its systems providing a new source of light that could not be ignored. Interval and Iota however found themselves raising their heads simultaneously watching as panels of lights in long rectangular formations suddenly sprouted out from the walls, twisting from inside the rock layer to come out the inner side of which they stood giving illumination to the crevices of the cave where their mediocre fluorescent lamp had failed.

The floor was composed of large square pieces that followed the silver like orientation of the computer console, stretching out to the square walls of the cave, the further silver notations that consisted of the wall up to at least one story breaking off into the basic inner flat surfaces of the rock expected within a cave. A circular wooden top table, capable of sitting up to ten able bodied heroes, sat centre of the room surrounded by wooden crates that had spaced out at the moment seemingly used for make shift seating. The oval topped entrance way, aimed out towards the sea inlet, was to the boy's right, its soft stones reflecting the light within a great distance beyond the upper plateau that it ran along. As such, adjacent to the entrance way was the monitor of which they stood by while behind them were the two walls with three standard metallic doors each that awaited their exploration activities.

Nightwing let out a blood curdling scream as he dropped to his knees, clawing his hands to his clenched shut eyes, "It hurts!" he shouted out poorly through a wide open mouth. Both his teammates were less than amused staring only briefly at the suffering boy before moving onto more precious activities.

"Think the justice league could have afforded decent chairs?" Iota spat out the question as an informal statement. He crossed over to table and smoothing his exposed fingers along its surface, at the centre of it was the letter 'JLA' in gold etched lettering. He came to a stop when his leading foot collided with a rectangular crate that lay on the floor on its broad side. Immediately interested, he leaned down and took his hand to the small metal latch on its one side and proceeded to pull the side off, "well I found bat-boy's chair," he said with some rhetorical disgust. Within the crate was the backside of the egg like chair which contained the more traditional bat-logo, a yellow oval shape flipped on its side with the ferocious black bat wings and ears within it, "was there a lantern in the original JLA line-up?" he rose and turned to his colleagues.

Nightwing, having regained his form at the instance of Iota's discovery, slipped across the floor with giddiness all the more present in his rapidly blinking eyes as he leaned into look at the chair. He immediately lowered his back around Iota and extended his arms to clasp on the chair edges, pulling it away from the soft white packaging that was presently keeping it stuck within the crate. Interval turned away back to the monitor which had taken to a tonal blue with the JLA logo its standard gold formation being present at its centre, "I'm sure we have more things to care about than just seating arrangements..."

"Even if there's one for you?" Nightwing eagerly shot back. Interval turned to catch the commotion finding that Nightwing had proceeded to break through the other surrounding crates pulling up the various silver chairs decorated with the legendary logos of past and current super heroes. Nightwing clasped tightly to the chair which possessed the flash logo, that circle of white with the yellow lightning bolt flowing through it. He smiled politely and let the bottom black circular pad of which it felt support, drop to the floor with a thud. Within the egg like chair was a black plastic like cushioning all while requiring the support of a circular tube extending from the black plate to its bottom to ensure that it stayed upright.

Interval returned Nightwing's happy prodding with an exceptionally empty glare, "you know I could use-"

"A decent thing to sit on while you do monitor duty," Nightwing quickly interjected as he leaned down and began to push the chair along the floor surface resulting in that grating noise that caused the most noxious sensation at the pit of Interval's stomach, "I'll just put it near the monitor in case you get tired of standing...not like you'll be needed to move much from that area anyway."

Iota had found the supposed green lantern chair in the last of the crates. At the back of the chair was a suspiciously similar logo to that of his own, a circle of green with two lines, one at the bottom and the other at the top, both running horizontal against the circle. He hummed somewhat emotionally to himself as he pulled it up from the Styrofoam like packaging which cracked as the orientation of the chair and his force upon it resulted in it giving away, decaying into the open casket. He nodded with assurance, recognizing his discovery as being genuine and proceeded to sit it up in one of the last two spots that Nightwing had not had the time to work his way into doing. Sitting down comfortably in the padded seat, he crossed his arms and smiled, slowly pulling his legs up onto the table top and relaxed, "I know we sort of just started and everything, but what do you think about expanding our forces?"

"Expanding?" Nightwing gasped for air as he quickly dove into the Batman seat that sat at the opposing side to his new lantern friend, swivelling on its pivot which only came to a stop when he slammed his closed fists onto the table top. He shot an unsympathetic glare in the teen lantern's direction.

"There's plenty of chairs here...Superman, Hawkman," Iota continued, "maybe we should diversify, get some of the resident super heroines involved...that would certainly make the experience of spending time with you more tolerable."

"It always comes down to a girl with you doesn't it?" Nightwing barked back, his right hand reaching to his head to tug at his eye lids.

"What exactly is your problem?" Iota scoffed, dropping his legs from the table top, hands tossed out across the surface, "they would certainly add some perspective to this all male club of ours."

"Trust me," Nightwing drop his hand and stared over intently, "we start allowing one of them in, then all the others are going to want to be in also and before you know it they've taken control of everything and we've been regulated to secondary members with some minor privileges being derived from our foundational status..." he winced up achieving a more higher sarcastic tone, "all because these girls have their sweet little bodies and attitudes that weak men like yourself fall for!" he angrily declared towards the end, "and do get me started on the fans!" he waved a convicting finger towards the lantern.

"You can't expect us to stay like this forever?" Iota continued with his disapproval of such an assessment, "if we're going to be a real team we're going to have to start being prepared for the possibility of expanding our ranks."

"We're fine as we are for now," Nightwing clutched his opposing elbows and leaned back in his chair, slumping his back, "and as leader I say...no girls!"

"And that's another thing," Iota snapped back, "since when do you go off calling yourself our leader? I don't remember us deciding that little detail..."

Nightwing propped up an eyebrow and leaned forward, "maybe because we wouldn't have this place if I didn't convince Wonder Woman to loan it to us."

"I don't know..." Iota hurriedly responded turning away to look to the monitor screen, "Interval, what do you think?"

"Guys," Interval's monotone voice lingered out to the agitated team members, "I think I've found something..." Interval leaned in onto the computer board, his given chair slightly to his left and untouched since his hands hovered lightly above the keypad. Of the strange computer generated images that had dominated the monitor screen, the most central item of which Interval had snapped to the centre was a strange volume record; thick green lines lined up against one another and bouncing along like a wave picking apparent sound particles, a frequency of sorts.

Nightwing and Iota came up close to their speedster friend and intently watched the bubbling of the lines, "what is it?" Iota questioned, turning to look across Nightwing shoulder's to Interval on the other side whom could not help but continue to stare at the image compulsively.

"It's a communication feed," Interval firmly responded. A moment silence passed as the three of their young minds ventured further into the rhythmic movements of the green bars, up and down all at their individual pace.

"I thought you said that the League would most certainly be running on these frequencies..." Iota snapped the silence, "I mean, this is pretty old material isn't it?"

"It's a continuous feed," Interval continued, "still being sent out...possibly has been for some time...there's no sound, not really a message of anything," he nodded awkwardly, "just telling us that its sending this message."

"Strange..." Iota shot in.

"Where is it coming from then?" Nightwing stepped in with his turn to question.

"Now that's one thing that this antique computer can handle," Interval jumped with a more eager tone, breaking the mould that had become too stereotypical to him. "It's in metropolis," he stated abruptly. Soon the screen became covered in a local map of the eastern coast of North America, primarily encompassing the central dividend of the continent where the population was most prominent, "It's not too far from out here," he continued modestly, "I could run and check it out in just under a half-hour."

"No," Nightwing gently swayed in, dropping to a serious tone. The two other heroes bolted their brows up and glanced to the interfering Nightwing whom leaned forward between them to the computer board looking upward at the red GPS location signal, the source of the current message being sent, "the League probably doesn't use this kind of frequency anymore, not because it is necessarily old and out dated, but because it's been compromised by some of their more nefarious friends," he fell back to an upright stance and clasped his hands together across his chest, "it's a possibility that they still have control of it."

"A trap?" Interval turned to a questioning stance; a position he soon shook off with a wince of his eye lids that scrunched his nose, "can't imagine a league member spontaneously searching up a random radio message from a defunct frequency that hasn't been tapped in nearly four decades."

"And yet, here it exists and the JLA junior has just gotten on to it...besides," Nightwing tapped his right toes against the ground and smiled politely to his colleagues, "this will finally give us an opportunity to try out that 'way of crime fighting' that your so fond of."

* * *

Flying high above the sea of grass, Iota darted through the oncoming storm of high velocity wind that built up the more quicker he propelled himself; quite fortunately, the emerald glow that surrounded his otherwise fragile human body kept him well adjusted for the environmental circumstances. Nightwing however, devoid of such a shield, had openly embraced the force of the wind, retracting the sharp blue wings from underneath his arms and propped his fists up appropriately to ride the waves of air that passed underneath him. With the assistance of leg boosters adjusted for balancing him out when necessary, he was flying in generally every sense of the word and yet he felt quite tired of the fact that he toiled away at it while his colleague took to it quite easily with his single ring. "This is the place?" Iota looked over to Nightwing, puzzlement somehow managing to be shared through his angular mask, "it's just an open field, a hill, and some trees..."

"Well, he did come to a stop didn't he?" Nightwing responded sharply never turning his vision from the ground floor of the soft green blades.

At his speed, Interval radically altered the surrounding air that he passed through, each step breaking the natural processes that the world unfolded upon its surface every day. The blur of speed however came to an abrupt stop at the centre of a large mound, a hill, revealing the speedster in his full uniform clutching to a long black tubular device in one hand which on it was a small rectangular screen that ran lengthwise more so towards one side than the other. He looked down upon this small screen watching with interest as it fluttered between a high force show of light and then dimness. Turning to his back side he caught a glimpse of the high rise city structure of metropolis on the core coast of Eastern America, but of what immediately had taken his attention was that of the invading suburb which ebbed and flowed through the encompassing field and hills and appeared to be on the rise with their unnecessarily high apartment complexes and condos, individual houses being relics of a past time, "this is the place," he announced upward to his friends whom had taken to a gentle glide to the ground, Nightwing for one rolling up into a ball formation, pulling his winged arms behind him for a swift descent.

"But there's nothing here?" Iota question, his feet coming in to touch the ground soaking in the moist dirt that splattered up the shielding of his lower legs.

"Maybe it's coming from space," Nightwing raised his hand and extended an index finger upward.

"No," Interval retorted, "that's not likely, not this kind of signal..."

"Then where?" Iota interjected, the three heroes now forming a loose triangular formation. They had come to a stop on top of the large mound of earth with similar likewise hills in existence all around comprising quite the extensive work along the coast line surrounding the central hub that was Metropolis. A sporadic display of trees, some more or less well established pathway and basic shrubbery took to the inner rungs of the lines between the hills. Metropolis appeared to be the clean and respectable from their distance, though only some of the more larger notable buildings were viewable and even then it was excessively distorted on account of such distance.

"Well there is one other location in this area that we would seldom think to look," Interval sought out to satisfy his ally by extending out his hand but as opposed to the more narrow minded Nightwing, he produced his index finger and pointed down towards the ground on which they stood. Iota blinked his eyes and rocked back and forth on his feet displacing the soil under his soles while Nightwing tapped his fingers together, "when Luthor was running Metropolis," Interval continued, "he had various amounts of labs and resources stockpiled throughout the Metropolis's suburbs, maybe it's something buried under here."

"Yeah, they've done quite a good job since Supes finally locked him in the zone, almost a public park here," Nightwing quickly stated with some pride which promptly dropped when he recognized some distress in Interval.

Interval nodded with disappointment for himself, "yeah, if its him then you could be right...probably some sort of a trap, a distress beacon meant to draw us in...still," he gulped, "we should check it out just to be certain."

"And how do you suppose we reach it?" Nightwing crossed his hands over his chest, "I never thought that heroics would entail large scale landscaping projects...what do tell the city that we were working on?"

"Could it be something that it's just some lone transceiver somewhere on the ground, discarded?" Iota waved out a hand, a thought provoking gestures.

"I've already scanned through the area," Interval concluded, "there's nothing here on the surface that could be sending the signal...I can probably use my speed to break down underneath the layer of dirt..." he whimpered off his last words drawing some ire from the suspicious teammates.

"Well good thing we have a guy on the team that can create magnificent structure with his mind!" Nightwing said under a delightfully sarcastic grin as he throughout his arms and bent his knees slight, "get to it light boy," he turned over to Iota, dropping the smile to a simple sneer, "make a giant spade or something and get us to where we're going."

"Yeah, I'm going to take orders from you," Iota snapped back, reasserting his feet to a more solid posture, his right foot slight ahead and bent into dominance. He raised his clenched ring hand and let it glow sharply.

"Wait," Interval intruded on his preparations, "we don't have to just dig out a crater anywhere," he pulled up the rectangular mobile computer and held it firmly in both hands, placing his thumbs on the glass screen which the other two came to watch as movements through the twiddling of his thumbs, "if I can use my home computer to boost the frequency attachment..." he raised his head to look over the grass plains once more, "we can probably find a more precise patch," he raised the device to eye level and began to fawn it around in a complete circle triangulating his desire location but it was not too long till he had come to find where they were supposed to be, "it's right here..." he dropped the device to his side and looked blankly at this comrades.

"Yeah," Nightwing shook his head up and down with a lip shut smile, "I thought we already knew that."

"Isn't that why we're here?" Iota stated with his continued puzzlement.

"No," Interval coughed out, "like it's, literally calling from here..." throughout his open palms to his sides, aimed to the spot of ground of which they stood.

"Oh," Iota blew out a shot of his pent up supply of air and flexed his fingers around his sides as he turned away from the triangular formation, "so we dig right here?" he turned his head slightly over his shoulder to glare back at Interval whom nodded with his positive identification, "alright then," he turned back forward and looked at the ground below him, "I think I could probably do something a little more precision based and quicker than a hand spade."

Within in moments of scanning the ground on which they stood once more, Iota kicked his heels into the ground sinking a significant distance down into the moist layer of soil stamping the grass into a flat compact layer under his sole. He narrowed his eyes and looked ahead with his ring hand raised and the basic lines, the blue prints, began to develop in the air a short distance ahead the trio of heroes. Firstly, the lines formed a box, a small one that hovered above the earth floor a good hefty metre. A thick circular bar then appeared underneath the hovering box, aimed towards the ground and held a more solid green tint unlike the line formed box. It began to twist, this cylindrical tube while around it began to form a large triangular point, multitude of lines slanted from the top which was the bottom of the box and heading downwards to the sharp point. The box suddenly began to fill in as sweat began to linger on the lantern's brown fall onto the edge of his mask and strolling downward, "got a remember how to build one of these things," he mumbled to himself. The point aimed lines began to twist and turn as the central cylinder shot up in speed forcing the bending and twisting of the lines till a full evident drill bit was formed, "this ought to do it," he spoke up turning back briefly over his shoulder to gain the attention of his friends.

The low hum of the turning green drill echoed deeply in the young heroes' ears as they watched the ground become displaced under its force, churning the wet brown dirt from the more thicker heavier plates of clay and dry soil that remained underneath it. Grass, various shocks of wooden branches or roots, all shot up in a fervour as the drill bit continued downward reaching deeper and deeper with the top control box reaching close to its discomfort zone. Suddenly sparks began to fly with a funny shredding noise that broke the boys' concentration, a sudden jolt raising the tips of their feet upward. Iota lost his concentration in this moment resulting in the complete dissipation of the drill bit, falling away to mediocre straight lines as when he first formed it and then suddenly gone as though it had never been there. Shaking this feeling off, Iota proceeded to approach the hole, the open metre gap in the ground that his creation had done. Nightwing and Interval soon followed in their speed fashion, leaning in over the ledge to get a better look at what had made its appearance and blocked the drill bit from getting further.

"Well that's interesting," Iota fumbled out under a hushed tone, "who wants to go down the mysterious dark hole first?" a good metre deep, the dirt had broken off into a poorly lit hole, a faint blue crispy outward like fog. Nightwing and Interval ventured to the ledge to get a decent look inside.

Nightwing dropped to a knee and narrowed his head down as far as he could reach taking a quick gander of the cylindrical lines on the walls that were formed by the lantern's massive drill bit, "coming?" he sheepishly questioned his teammates turning his head over his shoulder briefly. The reactions of his friends however were very mixed as Nightwing pulled back up to his full upright stance and then politely took a step into the formed hole, taking foot first dive to the invisible flooring below.

"Need a lift down?" Iota raised his ring hand ahead of his face which blinked out its emerald glow.

Nightwing gently glided down into the dark space keeping his senses open for determining his surroundings but overtly relying upon the many visions his cowl empowered him with, the most important bit of which appeared to be the solid floor two stories below. Some of the only sources of illumination came from two long blue neon stripes, one to each side, running along the walls some distance from the floor. The light however was generally minimal, showcasing only a thick foot high yellow and black slanted warning tape that followed along it as well as half a dozen wide circular tops, caps that apparently stuck to pod like contraptions that followed in the silver like orientation, reflecting that blue glow across his sight of vision. The room as such was quite evidently narrow, the much smaller other walls containing two red decently sized growing squares that sat at the apparent cusps of the first floor, one on either side. It became quite apparent that to one side was a console of sorts, a small slanted panel that that rose above the ground, it structural support being obscured in the darkness.

"Let's not be touching anything to quick," Interval raised his voice as he floated down on a makeshift plain green platform which came into existence by Iota whom gently hovered down along with him, "we don't know what half of this stuff might be capable of doing."

"Screw it!" Nightwing shouted as he came to a quick landing and darted for the far off panel down the way, "Let's just press everything!" the floor in which he ran upon rattled with his every pounding stop, an apparent cat-walk like flooring, a grated metal piece that was not so much solid as sitting on ledge which it bounced along.

Iota quickly raised up his ring hand and created a ball of the lantern energy in his hand, raising it up above his head as he gently allowed Interval to drop from the platform which quickly dissipated back into his consciousness alone, "can you for once not go ballistic everywhere we go?" Iota shouted out across the floor, "he's quite loopy sometimes isn't he?" he spoke with a slight whisper to his speedy friend.

Interval, gaining some perspective on the room, quickly made a dash up ahead to Nightwing, easily beating him in a flurry of speed towards the console board at one end of the room which rose up from the ground to stomach height and glowed in unusual patterns on its screen. He clasped his hands around the screen's thick plastic like edges; gaze intently focused upon the glowing green and red buttons awaiting some authorization. Nightwing, disappointed, slowly turned to a small jog when he realized he had failed to achieve his goal. "It's on auxiliary power...but this system isn't too hard to figure out, can get us some decent lighting." Interval's laid an open palm across the top of the console attaching itself a top of a hand size green square on the screen which magically followed the movements of his hand downward.

Illumination had soon arisen from the rafters above, the bright white source being that of long rectangular panels that ran horizontally along the narrow roof top, two rows with eight each hanging from the ceiling by the attachment small metal chained cords. The light affirmed what they were stepping upon, a grated sheet of hard iron which left open square spaces revealing the tortured continuous black pit below that stretched downward a few metres where the filth of water and dirt had cowered. The back side was a simple wall following in pattern to the chrome plating while the front, where the console's position signified it as such, there were two large windows that were dividing from touching one another by a decently sized grey door composed of strips of metal that when opened would most assuredly break at the crevices to allow for a complete turn into the slot above to be housed. Above this simple room like area continued the cave like pattern of malformed rock intrusions that held to a pasty clay like appearance extending upward through the second story and beyond to blend seamlessly with the ceiling. The immediate space ahead of this was rather solid looking in comparison to the central grate that ran along the pathway, the slab of silver chrome extending from the edge of the console's footing towards the door and its windows. A grasp of what was behind the windows was notably impossibly, seemingly blocked from efficient use as such since it gave its self-off as a dark ocean blue with no significant figures or source of illumination on the other side. To the boys' left and right, underneath the predominant blue strips were cylindrical pods, seven to each side, glass like in appearance but suitable surrounded by black components; a base which rose the pods up from the ground a few feet, flat sidings forming a square edge to keep the pod straight as it tilted backwards against the wall. Wires of various lengths rode around the pods' edges with a more notable thick one that appeared to be connected to the pods from behind it and extending upwards towards the console home; a thick black wire that connected all the pods together.

Interval hummed out a small fascination, pushing himself off from the console screen but never quite taking away his hands, "still says that there's no power supporting complete operation," he looked down at the board from his distance analyzing the systems being explored.

"Might be a good thing," Iota continued to turn his head around, fascinated by the dark corners of the ceiling above which avoided the tampering of the lighting that hung well below it, "how much power does this signal really need anyway?" he turned back to the Interval with focus.

"It hasn't gotten any stronger," Interval pulled up his mobile device briefly, dropping his hands from the console's sidings, "best we leave everything as it is though...must be a pretty good reason why this place is not in use."

"The central wire appears to have come undone," Nightwing cried out sharply as he knelt down to the thick black pod connecting wire which spanned across the solid floor just short of the mysterious front room. On the outside of the two broken off circular piece were four silver clamps, rectangular shapes that ran lengthwise around the circular openings, one each opposing one another on each side. Nightwing's hands felt around the cords on the ground and casually, he began to pull the two ends together flexing out its stretch till they could be reached and connected together. Within an inch of hitting one another on the floor, Interval darted around the console towards his colleague ready to pounce on his hands before such a lock can be made but it was all for a loss since Nightwing had hurriedly clasped the rungs together, the tight metal clamps touching and locking into position. The two heroes rose from the wire with one of which, Interval, shot out a terrifying glare, "whose slow?" Nightwing mocked with a small laugh.

"Interval," Iota called out as he came to face down the monitor board, glancing upward ever so slightly at his teammates, "this things gone to purple mode or something..." he fumbled out, the wrinkles of his forehead echoing the raising of his brow under his mask.

Interval made a mad dash back to the computer nudging Iota ever so slightly out of the way as his eyes scanned through the opened files and systems at his blistering speed, his hands clenched tightly to the sides and continued to operate in force upon the hard plastic lining, "full power's been restored...something's charging-" he felt cut off as additional lighting to their sides appeared to be raised catching their attention abruptly.

With a slight sound of electrical energy whipping through the lines, the pods to either side of the three teen heroes began to light up, their transparent glass layers giving way to an open discovery of what they contained. Within were a series of humanoid shapes, one to each pod, possessing massive muscular features, a girth primarily composed of a formidable blue tinted metal. They're gloves were thick and grey thereby departing from the coiled metal the provided a joint and basic makings of the arms. The boots were likewise in similar state, departing away from what leggings existed. Their heads were somewhat smaller by comparison to the rest of their bodies, being straight edged and firm, chins cut perfectly straight with slighting indented sidings to making up a cheek location. Their eyes, simple slots within the standard human location, glowed a light blue. However, of the most notable features to these iron giants were the dark grey triangular pieces that fell a long their wide chests and narrowed into points on their shoulder sides for within the centre of these was a more than familiar logo that glinted in a lighter tint that easily shined out from the general configuration.

"What is this?" Iota sounded out, "Superman's treasure trove of robots?" he scoffed out as he came to recognize that designer 'S' logo which appeared on every chest of the iron machines. The machine-me stood stationary within their pods, appendages flat and faces cold.

"I was unaware that Superman actually endorsed this kind of project..." Interval stuttered off as his eyes flickered rapidly at the strange discovery and his attempt to rationalize his memory of this bizarre era.

"I don't think he did," Nightwing firmly stated as he crossed back along the solid floor to his two colleagues behind the lone computer command, "I think this is Steel...well at least a few of them," he nodded his head with positive attitude regarding his judgement of the strange beings.

"Who?" Iota barked out, puzzled by Nightwing's declaration.

"When Superman died way back when...the first time," Nightwing took a deep breath, "he was replaced by four other dudes claiming to be the replacement Superman...one was Steel, a simple guy whom built himself a suit of armour much like these ones you see here..." he waved his hands around pointed out at the pods and their occupants, "yeah, I don't think any one of us was born when he was active..."

"So it was a human?" Interval turned to question.

"As far as I know," Nightwing clasped his hands to the opposing sides of his body, "didn't know he was much a robot builder...maybe Superman did something for him here?" his eyes blinked uncontrollably as enthusiasm for further discovery overtook him over.

"Like what, make him a cyborg?" Iota scoffed at the notion.

"Shut up guys," Interval sharply stated, returning to his dry tone. He dropped his hands from the console board and manoeuvred himself around it, head upward and aimed towards the single work room at the front end of the underground complex, "our door just opened." The two other heads in the present vicinity turned their heads sharply to look towards the entrance way that had been opened between to the two large panel windows. Taking the lead, Interval led his teammates into the darkness; Nightwing crouching lowly ready to pounce while Iota rose a glowing hand to the side of his head to get a proper look ahead.

Inside was an unusual sight that instantly caught the awareness of Interval producing in him a rather loud moan of disappointment; a single lamp light dangled from the low ceiling by a long spindly electrical cord that was infused with a small wired metal chain. The cone apparatus that covered the lamps light beamed the strangely blue tinted light downward against a rather similar figure to the metal men outside. It had a broad chest, a light steely grey armour like venture over top of its shoulders that broke off in triangular piece over the shoulder sides and brimming across to a central point at the centre of its chest. It head was straight and dark, curved like a normal humans heads save for its eyes, their straight rectangular slots which bleeped a strange red on two second intervals. His hands were massive, extending out of the circular bands that composed its arms and basic elbow joints. His fingers were thick and squared off, strong looking but nonetheless laying limp on the coiled metal of its thighs which continued in such banded manner till it reached its large boots which start a few inches after its apparent knees. Once more, the most striking impressions that this figure made was the branded 'S' that it beheld on its chest. And yet for all the iron stature that the insignia implied, the humanoid of impressive ingenuity sat limp in a simple metal chair, slumping back against the rest, head slightly curved upward dust slowly clambering along its metallic skin...it had not been touched over moved in years. A series of small black wires appeared to run along the floor and up connecting to the backside of the seated metal-man. Instinctively, Interval's eyes followed the path that the cords related to a similar looking console board to the one outside which stood slightly to the left of the seated android.

"Well that's unsightly," Iota gobbled. He came to an abrupt pause and watched on as Nightwing approached the metal man with an inquisitive eye while Interval quickly clasped onto a the computer console.

"This is it," Interval looked up and analyzed the metallic humanoid, "this is definitely where the source of the signal is coming from," he reiterated as he tapped his fingers along the screen moving the green blocks along it.

"What are we going to do about it now?" Nightwing rubbed his extended right hand along the metal-man's elbow join feeling the dividing lines that stood between each metal band as he looked back at Interval with puzzlement, "this thing looks like it's been dead for years."

"Whatever purpose the league finds me fit for service," a deep ominous voice protruded from the metal man. Nightwing promptly dropped his hand from the metal-man's inner elbow joint and followed up the shrill of fear with a tiny hop forward trailblazing a way to his fellow teammates, "I am unfamiliar with your figures," the strange mechanical voice continued. The boys looked upon the Steel like entity as its eye slots stopped blinking turning to a sullen black, "your insignias however are very familiar to my data base, be you three the members of the families Batman, Flash and Green Lantern?"

The three boys looked at one another with strange approvals for the notions presented, but only Interval was able to muster the strength to ask a question that had appeared within all their minds the moment it had started talking: "Who are you?"

"I am Steel, prototype C-144" it firmly responded, "have you not been briefed of my current situation?"

"No," Interval flatly stated, "my teammates and I located the distress signal you were sending and decided to investigate it-"

"The original uh...human Steel built you didn't he?" Nightwing peaked up, gaining some respectable form with the slight interruption.

"That much is true," Steel emitted, still unmoving, "I was made in the image of the creator to serve his function upon his retirement," a brief moment of silence passed, "your youth and presence here strikes me as illogical," the three young heroes winced their eyes, cringing at any implications, "I sent that priority signal for the Justice League of America, why is it that you have answered the call I have sent?"

"Hold up?" Iota snapped in, raising his hands in as stopping gesture, "why did you send out the signal?"

"I have urgent news regarding the formation of the Steel Guardians," it replied immediately, "I must discuss this information with the Justice League of America in secrecy, are they within reach?"

"Steel," Interval licked his bottom lip as he tried to reach a more sympathetic take to the situation at hand, "your distress signal was sent through a comprised communication feed that hasn't been used in some time..."

"That is not likely; the creator had reinstated protective measures most recently."

"What year is it?" Interval questioned him bluntly, pulling himself back up from the console and let out monitored short breaths.

"It is 2022."

"Steel," Interval let out a gush of hot air from his nose, he teammates looking at him awkwardly but holding to their more empathetic roots, "you've been down here for over two decades..." Silence soon encompassed the room, so much so that he three heroes could vaguely make out the noise of firing circuitry that bounced to and fro inside the android's head.

"Does not Superman still fly over the streets of Metropolis?" Steel quickly broke through the silence shattering the numb feeling in the boys' legs.

"Yeah about that," Nightwing raised his right index finger and playfully leaned over with a waltz across Steel's possible sight of vision attempting to get some reaction, "he kind of left the earth a few good years back, had some vendetta he promised to take care of...but he comes back from time to time..."

"Then I will require all able assistance to prevent the complete formation of the Steel Guardians..." Steel hurriedly responded.

"What's going on Steel?" Interval interjected.

"I am not like the Steel Guardians, they are more efficient in every way but such belief proved to be a flaw in their sentience programming; the creator saw them as being too harsh. I was reprogrammed to ensure that there program could not escape the Unternet and be reactivated."

"What are these Steel Guardians?" Interval continued with his questioning.

"They are a hive mind, a collective consciousness of perfect cybernetic thinking with the necessary artificial intelligence to make rational based judgements-"

"Well that doesn't seem too bad," Nightwing chimed in.

"Relative to the needs of themselves," Steel continued producing much dismay in young bat-boy, "They were made to emulate humans but in every way evolved to become a perfection of them, something more fit in line with their mechanized programming. The creator had scrapped the project, but Lex Luthor left little time for the destruction of the program; I was the prototype to them and was applied the task of ensuring that they not be able to escape the virtual episodes provided by the Unternet."

"What's the Unternet?" Iota questioned.

"A villain's favourite pass time after the internet," Nightwing raised and turned his head to face Iota at the other side of Interval, "it's basically just one messed up virtual reality simulation world where the underground can pass along information and test ideas..." his head twisted to face Steel, "but I thought that was shut down."

"Lex Luthor re-established the connection," Steel paused for a moment, "Since it is as you say and that two decades have passed, I must be willing to conclude that the Steel Guardians were prevented from charging prior to my losing my consciousness and therefore no long serve as a threat to this world."

"And what will you do now?" Nightwing proposed the question with a sense of distaste for the more likely end, "you know, since the threat has been neutralized...?" he continued shyly.

"As per instructions with the Creator, I am to shut down the Unternet and then self-destruct to ensure that no such programming will ever exist again."

"Wait," Interval shouted out but quickly nodded his head, "did you say charging?" he prodded as he raised his head back up to look at their new found friend.

"In the final act of the Creator, the link to the power for the Steel Guardians was severed."

"I suppose he didn't have a contingency plan..." Nightwing hunched up his shoulders, drawing himself in closely as he smiled out his lines, "in case some hapless hero managed to reconnect that connection and you somehow failed to prevent these Steel Guardians from regaining control of their physical bodies?"

"Whose side do you fight on anyway?" Iota spat out as he turned back towards the entrance way. It became instantly obvious that two of the Steel replicants had broken free from their pods and had stamped their way to the entrance; their final boots leaving the sound of crushing metal against metal hammering out into all facets of the boys' ear drums leaving them shaken, "oh great, now what do we do?"

"They must not be allowed to escape, they will destroy and kill whatever prevents them from achieving their goals of absolute knowledge," Steel's voice came through clear connecting the minds of the three boys to commit to the necessary objective. Instantly, Iota rose his ring hand and shot from it a rectangular shaped table like object, the four jutting legs aimed back towards them while the table top piece flew across the floor towards the entrance way closing tightly upon the frame with a slam, keeping the evil replicants on the outside; however, they remained viewable still through the tint of green that the table masked them in. Their heavy hands rose, the two present Steel Guardians began to bang away at the wall at three second intervals, perfecting time for each one all of which being a blow against the young lanterns confidence. The loud thunderous banter proved to be an inescapable breaking point for Iota whom planted his feet into the ground mentally assuring himself of his current responsibility and aftermath if he failed to act as a container.

"Steel," Interval ran up to the machine-man whom continued to slump in his chair, "do you know of another way out of here?"

"There is one," Steel responded sharply. Slowly, with gears seemingly twisting and turning, his head began to turn back further against the chair, Interval and Nightwing watching him in some surprise as the dust flowed from his aged metal plates. The movements came to an abrupt stop when his face was flat and perfectly facing the light above which majestically glowed upon him, "there is a service hatch available on the ceiling."

"Well then come on," Nightwing grunted under his breath. With a quick hop up onto Steel's lap with both feet, he grabbed hold of the lamp shade and turned it up around on itself so that the light came to focus on the ceiling ahead. It became evident that there was a downward elevated platform that appeared just large enough to carry Steel's body through, on it was a small black chip that presumable was a lock to get it open. "Interval hold this, I'm going to hack through it!" Interval soon climbed upon Steel's massive thigh tissue just as Nightwing proceeded to step onto the metal-man's shoulder's using the nearby wall to balance himself up to the top where he proceeded to pull up a small circular black device with blue side lining from his utility belt. Interval held the light up while Nightwing held the electronic safe cracker as close as he could to the black lock key panel on the ceiling.

"Hurry it up," Iota called out, the sweating boiling down his wrinkled forehead, "why do they have to make everything so hard on me? Contain this impending waterfall of doom?" he mumbled with dissatisfaction to himself.

"Ah Darn it!" Nightwing became disgruntled looking up the former hatch plate that had slid into a slot within the ceiling plate, "it's just a patch of solid dirt...we're going to need light-boy to break it up so we can get out," Nightwing turned his head over his shoulder glancing his vision over the bright light to get a good look of the postulating Interval.

"He's a bit busy at the moment," Interval quickly replied.

"I may be able to blast through it," Steel announced, "but it will require all of my remaining energy. Do you have a source capable of recharging me so that I may continue my mission?"

"Your technology?" Interval briefly found some humour in the dire situation, "I'm certain the cave's system will be compatible," he returned to a more serious tone, "it's only a short distance from here."

"Very well...I advise you to move," Interval dropped his grasp upon the lamp and fell back to the ground where Nightwing soon glided down to join him. Steel's right arm began to move slowly along his thigh, raising ever so slightly to reach and moving to aim for exposed ceiling. The two free heroes watched intently when the arm finally appeared to reach its goal; open palm flexed upwards and ready to perform the action necessary to set them free. The sound of boiling energy began to emit from the metal-man's open hand where patterns of red and pink began to develop in bulbs and lightning like surges. With a simple shock, the radiant cylindrical beam of light shot up from his hand, instantly cutting away at the rock and dirt above breaking and snapping away at whatever foundations the top soil could have hoped for. The two heroes took a few steps back quickly as piles of dirt and debris fell from the made hole decking their saviour in the earthly tones of brown and the moist mud. The hand dropped suddenly to the chairs side having now lost all hope for getting out of this hellish situation on his own strength, "they cannot follow...they will need to recharge fully..." Steel's voice began to trail off become slower and slower and more incomprehensible, "they will find me."

"What does that mean?" Nightwing's eyes grew wide as he looked at Interval whom stood on the other side of Steel.

"I don't know," Interval ran up and raised the lifeless arm of their new robotic companion, "But come on, let's try to get him out of here," he bridged it around his shoulder. Looking over at the backside of the teen lantern, "Iota, wrap it up...they ain't getting out of here just yet!" With a burst of strength, Iota threw forward his table breaking through the entrance frame, bending inward as it did to fit through immediately coming into a snappy contact with the oppressive forces of the two Steel Guardians. Iota immediately clasped his hands to his knees and let out a deep breath as he watched them somewhat fall back awkwardly as the table instantly broke down to its simple contour configuration, "we don't have time to breath," Interval's voice rang out with an authoritative bent, "help us get him out of here!" And quick flipping of his legs and Iota bolted in the direction of his teammates.

Nightwing quickly narrowed his body to the straightest board he could produce and launched up the hole towards the sunshine leaving a light trail of faint smoke from his sole boosters. With a simple nod to one another, Iota engulfed the speedster and Steel in his emerald shielding and immediately took the air, his free hand aimed forward heroically as they followed Nightwing's lead up into the open air above this horrid underground complex. A quick glance over his shoulder saw the Steel Guardians having made a quick approach to the hole but stopping right then and there and staring up at them, "they're not following?" he questioned as he and his load had made it out the hole and on par with Nightwing hovering above, "I thought he said they were more efficient or something."

"Efficient yes," Steel's weak voice returned, "but for such efficiency they require enormous amounts of energy, they will need time to full recuperate their arms. Now, find me a source of compatible power so that I may complete my functional purpose; they cannot leave the complex, not yet."

* * *

"The developments of this world are quite intriguing," Steel stated in his affirmative tone. The metal bound hero had been brought to the Justice cave where he was nicely positioned within the Flash's chair which he easily fit within its opening albeit with the necessary push and shove of his massive limbs, "so much has changed," he continued. The chair was turned away from the cumbersome monitor screen and accompany keyboard, his head however was slightly tilted forward to enable the attachment of a semi-thick black wired line to be connected to the back of his head that curved down his back side before rolling under his right arm and off the chair to the floor. Following this extensive wire that coiled up several times on the ground, it was found that the other end piece was connected to a circular socket on the computer's main board.

"So why won't the Steel Guardians leave the complex?" Interval, the closest standing hero, questioned with a hand brought up to square up his chin, he lowered his head down and looked with his sharp eyes at the motionless Steel. Iota and Nightwing in the meantime had returned to their positions at the circular table, Iota's feet straddling the nice table top while Nightwing's chest came up close to the edge allowing for a more full extension of his arms towards the middle which awkwardly waved out in anger at the teen lantern, "if your recharging this quickly and there so much more efficient than you are?"

"Their efficiency in achieving power is the one flawed aspect that I can use at this moment," Steel continued, "they require a multitude of power to support this efficiency that my programming lacks. It will take them at the very least twenty hours to reach their maximum."

"So we're under pressure right now..." Interval calmly dictated his assessment, "how can we defeat them before they get enough power to leave?"

"I have devised only one possibility at this point; I will connect myself back to the Unternet and shut it down from the inside," Steele continued in his unchanging tone, "the effect of which will result in the destruction of the Steel Guardians' hive mind."

"Why can't you just do if from here?" Interval posited his question with a slight sway of his head from side to side.

"Of the preliminary scans I have made of your data base, the only reachable access point to the Unternet is at the underground complex," Steel affirmed quickly, "I do not recognize this service in activation anywhere else currently in the world."

"I don't understand the threat here," Nightwing spat out pushing his hands against the table ledge giving his chest some breathing space, "what exactly is there plan when they get all this 'energy'?" he turned to face Interval and Iota, "I mean like why are they so bent up? They're just androids; I'm not seeing any real motivation to like start blowing stuff up."

"He has a valid question," Iota chimed in, likewise turning to Interval and their new metal companion, "for once," he smiled briefly looking once more above the tips of his raised boots which blocked out the image of Nightwing's face.

"The Guardians were granted sentience," Steel's head continued to hang lowly, "Lex Luthor evolved them using foreign unearthly technology which enabled them to attain a utilitarian aspect where the resultant consequences determine the good of an action. However, when all that could be learnt they found that they got... 'bored'."

"Harsh," Nightwing rudely commented, "I know what that's like-"

"They will delete whatever presents to them as being a threat," Steel continued, "I have recognized that much has changed in this world since they were deactivated. At current moment I am unable to calculate a suitable prediction of what damage they may perform once they have achieved full power."

"Your connected to the Unternet though also?" Interval leaned in to Steel, placing a hand on the top of chair, "what happens to you when you shut down the system?"

"As a result of the shut-down, my system will also be disconnected," Steel continued in its emotionless monotone, "my function will have ceased to be. This is the best possible solution for my function will have been completed and in the process I will have completed my final operational order."

"How unfortunate," Nightwing flexed his arms out above his head before bringing them back down to push himself away from the table, "now then, how soon till we get going?"

"How exactly are we supposed to fight these drones?" Iota bolstered up from his seat and took some meagre steps towards their new android acquaintance, "they're not exactly weak sauce."

"The Steel Guardians will have entered into their recharging cycle," Steel spoke out to satisfy his new found allies, "they should not be suspecting any threat to their safety until I have successfully connected to the system at which point it will take anywhere between two and five minutes to successfully implant myself as a virus within their system."

"Draining you completely," Interval nodded with a slight sigh.

"Precisely," Steel coldly rebuffed.

"Alright, well, you're at eighty percent power," Interval continued while moving ahead of the chair to the computer board where he planted his hands accordingly, "shouldn't take much longer."

"I was under the notion that I was nearing complete power abduction, my systems must have been slightly altered in the process of uploading current information."

"We'll be done here soon enough," Interval reaffirmed, "then we can help you complete what you were programed to do."

* * *

Nightwing and Iota gently glided down to the grated floor of the underground complex, rocking it slightly to perform its tumbling metal sound, "Well here we are, back to normal," Nightwing quickly commented recognizing that the cylindrical pods were maintained with their Steel like entities which laid limp with their eyes fluctuating a delicate blue, "I don't understand why we don't just rip out their charging cables..." Nightwing said turning to face the front, looking around the main computer console up ahead but found himself unable to locate the thick cord that he put back in place just a few hours back.

"Yeah, why don't you start looking for it?" Iota barked as he took steps towards the front of the complex, bumping up slightly against Nightwing as he tapped along the grated catwalk sheet with determination.

"Isn't this place just creepy though?" Nightwing painfully continued stepping up closer to the pods which towered a few feet over him, he looked up at them with his fingers on the cusp of his lip and wide eyes, "like they want to kill us, they know we're here, but they're doing absolutely nothing," he commented turning to look towards Iota whom had already made a sizable difference between the two of them.

"You two will certainly have your hands full," Steel's ominous voice echoed throughout the complex, "they've hidden all necessary systems to their function, they are at full operational levels for recharge." Both of the grounded heroes turned their heads up sharply and saw floating down was the good version of the metal monstrosities, lowering himself through the application of its own rocket sole boosters which were nothing more than white circles which shined out a high stream of fire that was rather transparent to their human eyes. Nightwing smiled somewhat as he found himself marvelling Steel's boosters that while twenty years out of date they still managed to lift and act as a source of propulsion for a metal android that weighed no less than a ton. Grabbing hold of one of Steel's arms was Interval whom clenched tightly around his bulky mass while his legs angled out from the side with the toes landed firmly on top of the nearest boot; he looked out across the way at the computer console where Iota now stood.

"Alright," Interval called out, "Steel and I are going to start set up immediately," he looked squarely at his colleagues once over before turning his attention to the entrance way into the single room, "you two better be ready to hold them off when they start getting concerned for their safety." Steel came to an abrupt landing echoing a deep ding when the metal of his boots enacted a punishing blow to the grated metal of the floor. All three of the teen heroes watched the heavy stomp of Steel, the man made of steel walking by them with a heavy heart of iron, coldly acknowledging what lay ahead for his future.

It was not long till Steel had made his way inside the small room at the front, Interval lowered his head slightly and let a brief sigh out; the moment only lasted a few moments however as he quickly bolted at his speed to catch up to Steel thereby leaving Nightwing and Iota to take their task into hand. "You sure that stuffs going to hold...?" Iota questioned the bat-boy as he approached him along the central pathway.

Nightwing shot his hands down to his utility belt and began to rapidly pull up a few small grey vitamin like capsules from a pocket in his utility belt, "Oh yeah," he nodded with a smile as he turned away from his lantern friend. He started to hum a sweet sounding tune, fluttering his feet against the ground and sizing up the glass panel pods which, upon reaching the climax of the sharp witted tune, was greeted with one of his strange little capsules which immediately burst out what little shards remained of the capsule and immediately engulfed the front centre with a strange black sticky substance, an oozing gunk of a chemical that spread out like tar turning into a splotch like pattern with extending tentacle like formation that continued to sink down the glass sheen under the force of gravity. Its character like ability pulled the goo to the sides of the pods messing with black lined sides and the metal clamps therein. Nightwing continued to flirt along the narrow walkway pivoting and turning at every interval of new pods appearing on either side of him where he tossed one of these miraculous capsules at the pods all performing in the similar peculiar form but all ending up in a strange unique shape. "Anything to alleviate that suffering and pain you feel..." he mocked Iota upon coming to a stop at the back wall and quickly turning to look back at him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Interval questioned with a slight saddened plea. He circled around Steel whom had assumed his seated position on the lone metal chair underneath the small single lamp hanging above. Of this particular time, perhaps weary that his crusted body remain after the completion of this mission, Steel had taken a much stronger placement on the chair in comparison to his slumping condition which he had endured for over two decades.

"Do you feel concerned for my continued existence?" Steel questioned the speedster's feelings. The cords from the computer panel a short few steps away had been reattached back to the Steel's head and upper torso; his fingers clenched into fists and became firm upon his thighs, "I don't suspect that you do..." his head curved to look up at the Speedster whom had taken a position at the panel, "I don't either." Interval allowed his soft breathing to be the sole source of audible hearing as he gently slid a green neon cube image on the screen down to an awaiting slot; his head rose slowly with a sigh as he saw Steel's eyes turn blue.

Outside, "you hearing that?" Nightwing spoke hastily to his current partner. His hands flowed evenly out to his sides, feet widely spaced from one another, fingers twirling on their knuckle joints.

Iota step forward, "looks like they're trying to open the pods." It became plainly evident at that moment that the pod lids, the glass door, was in the process of being opened in a flipping fashion to the side; however, with the application of Nightwing's black tar substance the mechanical results expected were block. The process was stalled resulting in a continuous back log of commands with riveting noises that found its source in the side clamps which were releasing and closing and releasing again; anything to get free and fulfil its simple purpose.

"Is it holding up?" Interval voice slurred as it became apparent that he had caught up to the boys and stood central to them.

"Stuffs tight, very schway," Iota commented with a smile as he relaxed his standing posture, dropping the flexing of his fingers and letting them hover together around his stomach, elbows bent inward.

"Come on, those doors don't have the torque to snap bat-goop," Nightwing applauded his efforts. He whimsically let a smirk draw upon his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, "but I was really looking for a fight."

"Let's keep ourselves sharp," Interval stepped away from their slanted formation and came to a direct stance at the centre of the pathway eyeing down the clanking pods on either side of him, "we still have over three minutes to go."

The teen heroes' bodies suddenly became rattled, twisting to their left side in a stunned horror upon hearing the loud boom of cracked plated glass under the immaculate force of one of the Steel Guardian's fist. All three of them pivoted on their solid outer foot and turned to look at the protrusion that had appeared on the pod nearest to them on the left side, "the pod stop circulating the open mechanism," Nightwing quickly pointed out raising a finger to point to the side of the pod in question. The protrusion itself was an obvious punch made by the entity within, but while the glass layer proved to be of little deterrent, the most worrisome obstacle for the Steel Guardians appeared to be the black bat-goop which stuck onto the fist like melted cheese, cradling the crevices of the thick squared fingers and sinking into long tendril strands underneath. Glass shards from the crushed inner layer had become stuck upon goop which led to the slight glistening of a gold like flavour. A second loud noise boomed behind them producing an arch of enticement in their backs and numbing the sound within their heads, Nightwing rapidly began to shake his head as he turned around to the opposing pod to face down the obvious, "ah great," he let out regretfully, "now they're cycling through one by one."

"Two minutes," Interval quickly shouted out as his eyes rapidly rotated from side to side narrowing down the path watching intently for any breakage of fists attempting to ascertain a power. A third boom riveted throughout the underground complex; however this one did not follow any format that the young speedster had hoped to deduce. Turning he saw that his colleagues had become intently focused upon the first pod which had now withdrawn from it two extended fists covered in the illustrious goop, "OK, now do something!" he shouted out towards them.

Iota raised a fist and immediately set recreating the bowed out glass pod glass door with the power of his emerald ring, pressing it hard against the fists hoping that it would be able to push them back within its container; however just as he was doing his, a fourth sound of crush glass appeared behind him. He turned back momentarily to the first second pod and let out a shot of air in dissatisfaction of the evident occurrence, "now your turn?" he sarcastically beckoned and he decided to continue to press down harder on the shield he had produced.

Nightwing stared upward at the two protruding fists with a complicated grin. Raising his right hand, he proceeded to play with his chin while tapping his left foot against the grate, "I'm out of goop," he spontaneously turned to Interval catching his brief attention. At that very moment when he turned however, the inevitable had occurred; smashing through the entirety of the pod opening, the heavy metal laced Steel Guardian burst through taking the goop substance with him. Fortunately Interval had caught the breaking point in the corner of his eyes and dashed over to Nightwing in a quick burst that propelled him out of the way. The fall of the metallic giant crushed to the floor with its massive boots, back slightly arched forward as balance had been lost.

With a quick look up, Iota came to see the Guardian's head, its dark red eyes, rising above his body reaching unaccountable heights. The young lanterns eyes widened with a grief as he saw that the Guardian under his watch had broken through the glass opening and was now working away at ripping the tar from its fists all while flailing its mass at the artificial glass plate he created to prevent the metal man from his full exit into the real world, "is someone going to do something?" his voice peaked to a higher pitch.

It was not too long till other fists bubbled out of the pod doors, breaking away the glass and goop with strong extensions aimed upon breaking free and taking down the source of their discomfort and possible death. Interval quickly placed Nightwing down to his side allowing him ample room to stand up freely, "this is the part where it all comes to an end right?"

"It's not after us, we're not a threat just yet," Interval commented, looking over the battle ready Nightwing, "but we have got to keep it from getting into that room." The horror that was the metal man stepped towards the two heroes with its thunderous stride, vision aimed towards the open entrance way where salvation from its potential non-existence awaited. Its heavy steps dented the metal flooring below as it continued to make its approach forcing the two young heroes, easily outclassed, to take meagre steps back with hopes that the other would come up with a brilliant plan to bring this nightmare to an end. Ahead of them, behind the oncoming electronic monstrosity, it became evident that Iota the teen lantern was on the losing end of his battle. With a hefty build-up of pink energy fusion in the Guardian's palms, the shield that was meant to keep the it encased quickly converted into one of defence as Iota felt himself being pushed back by force, shot up into the air and back into the vacated stall behind him.

"We're not going to win this one are we," Nightwing commented in his friendly comical voice having now adapted to the dire situation that had come upon them, "there will always be someone else though right? Now that we've failed?" he looked over to Interval but was unable to get a positive or negative reaction from the speedster's stone face. And although the situation appeared to be most desperate, it was when the two Guardian's had lined up on the lone pathway that salvation came in the form of an all too familiar laser beam, a cylindrical coil of pink that was wrapped tightly with red blitzes of lightning. Nightwing and Interval's heads bobbled out to the outer sides as they dropped to the floor and watched as the long reaching beam crushed into the central logo of the first Guardian's chest sending it back along the pathway and crushing into the one behind it sending them sputtering against the ground ripping it to sparks and shredded metal piece.

Iota leaned out of the pod, hands clasped on the ledges as he attempted to ascertain the extent of the possible victory, "guess they're all free now aren't they?" he said with a ting of unrequested enthusiasm at the end of each syllable. It became quickly apparent that the other Steel Guardians had broken off the glass holders of the pods which lay in crumpled black heaps at the edges of the pod bases. Their eyes had lit up into a fiery red and turned an fully awkward degree to menace and torture the young heroes with their presence alone. Jumping out, Iota quickly joined in the triangular formation of his teammates that had placed him at the front, though like his colleagues he could not help but raise his hands in a poor man's defence and step backwards in short steps, "was that Steel?" Iota questioned under clenched teeth.

"Buying his own time I suppose," Interval responded shortly, "and despite our setbacks it appears to have worked," his muscles loosened while his hands aimed to scrape down along his chest. His teammates looked to him with some puzzlement but quickly came to recognize the state of the machines men ahead of them. Cold to say the least, their eyes had turned to black slates, unmoving and unsympathetic to their deaths; however, just the turning of their heads on their neck joints, that glare that still existed in those sightless eyes was still enough to entice the boys to produce an operational defensive plan within their heads even though it would never come to fruition.

"So that's it than," Nightwing commented, "he's gone," he continued as he circled around the seated Steel, the good prototype that sacrificed its electronic soul to save the world from another force of evil that threatened it.

"I wouldn't say that," Interval returned to his monotone state as he leaned in forward against the empty shell that was Steel panning his face towards his former plain of vision. The cold metal that comprised his body returned to its former dishonourable slumping position, a resultant factor to having raised himself to save the boys with his final shot of energy. It was in this chair that he most likely spent the majority of his robotic life in, but it would seem that to one of the present teen heroes that this seat should not be the place in which he sat in death, "Iota, help me move his body."

* * *

The android body of Steel sat back in the Flash christened chair within the Justice Cave, the empty pits that were its eyes revealing the loss of the entity that gave it life, but one of the teen heroes that had assisted the gentle metal man had hoped that the electronic soul that once inhabited this hollow shell would be returned.

"What are you trying to do?" Iota questioned, his crossed his chest as he looked down upon the seat Steel body while Interval cowered around it playing with a wide assortment of cords and wires that protruded from the computer board.

Nightwing sat on the floor next to Iota, one foot laying out flat pointing to the seat while the other bent up at the knee, "I'm sure he'll make a fancy statue or something," he rudely commented in his cheery voice, "but it's not we really have any place to put him..." Iota looked down at the Bat-boy uncertain now as to whether he was serious.

Interval suddenly rose from his crouching position and stepped over to the board where he pressed down on one of the square ivory keys, "that should do it," he said dryly in a coarse voice. Stepping back he turned to face Steel as he joined his colleagues, Nightwing now having pulled himself up to his feet.

"So you guys want to learn about what lessons we learned today?" Nightwing asked in a more polite form, though his seriousness was still tossed away to uncertainty, "I'm sure we've all got something we can bring to the table of discussion...good team building." A jolt of muscle movement ran along Nightwing and Iota backs along with the blinking of their eyes at a rapid rate as they fell back slightly the moment Steel's eyes suddenly lit up red, active and now most certainly aware since the hands rose abruptly from his thighs and reached out towards them, "Its alive!" Nightwing shouted, hands raised to the sides of his head and shaking like jazz.

"I am active," Steel spoke in his emotionless tone, hands falling to his thighs once more, "I have been retrieved..."

"Yes," Interval spoke under a high expulsion of breath.

"You have deceived me," Steel appeared to grow firm, most probably aware of what might happen.

"I saved you," Interval responded in a tone not that far off from the metal-man.

"How is this possible?"

"When you were charging," Interval took a deep gulp in preparation of explaining himself, "I had a second file of you created, a copy so to speak...I've had the computer do some reprogramming while we were out."

"My objective is completed?"

"Yes," Interval shortly responded, "the Metal Guardians have been defeated, your all that is left of them...but I wasn't satisfied with your final operational objective," Interval lowered his chin to his armpit and reached a deeper tone, "your willingness to destroy yourself upon completion of your task..." he moved to lock eyes with Steel, "I had it deleted."

"I am free?" Steels voice, while no doubt the same seemed brighter, more cheery.

"Yes," Interval instantly responded, no hesitation to his answer.

"Then I have become like the Guardians," Steel responded, "for that I have shamed my Creator...I will no doubt conclude with the same reasoning that lead them to become what they were."

"No!" Interval shook his head slowly from side to side, negatively approaching the situation, "you don't have to become that..." he sighed, "I've been through that and it wasn't easy to make it here...I'm no machine though...but if your creator made the sacrifice for good, wouldn't it be at least worth the effort to follow in the steps he made?"

"Suppose he kept him around because they're so much alike," Iota whispered over to Nightwing but he just responded with the shirking of his shoulder and a look of puzzlement in his eyes.

"But I..." Steel's voice trailed off to silence.

"What's wrong?" Interval's eyebrows tensed under his mask, indecision in his eyes.

"I don't know what to do," Steel's head rotated upward on its neck join and looked towards all three heroes, "I'm 'bored'."

Nightwing let out a sigh and shook his head with a giggle, "you may not exactly be young, but your inexperience with existence lends you much credence...but you'll fit in here fine, some of us are bored all the time and one of us is just boring," his head came to a stop and a large tooth filed smiled sparked his grateful enthusiasm, "welcome to the team!" he cried out sharply, "someone's got to do the monitor duty gig," he slyly whispered across to the grinning Iota.


	17. Young Justice Beyond 5

Young Justice Beyond #5  
Volume 1. Story 4  
The Game and its Theories

* * *

Steel's human like head revealed itself as the cold metal machine that it was when it pivoted sharply on its tubular neck piece, scanning the room from left to right reaching ends to which would require the movement of the full body for a simple human. Its eyes were of a foundational blue; the glowing wisps of a digital cortex within. His body sat relaxed in quite a large chair, the plush black backing, head rest, bottom cushion and arm rests being the only notable exceptions to a rather tubular silver coated frame pulling a strong resemblance to a barber shop's chair but otherwise detached from the ground by the extension of four silver balls which seamlessly blended into its frame.

"What do you suppose it's up to?" Nightwing questioned as he approached their newest member whom sat just in front of the giant home monitor screen, continuously moving its head back and forth, left to right, with those shinny eye slots. Nightwing clutched his hands to his knees and leaned down, eyes transfixed on Steel's turning head waiting for it to come to the centre of its robust metal body in which eye contact could be met for at least a moment's time.

"He's installing himself into the cave computer," Interval swiftly commented as he entered the central dome of the cave from the lone entrance way to the monitors right. Behind him by a stride was the teen lantern Iota panting in strain, "Hopefully he'll be able to give this cave full power and help with whatever updates are required."

"Whatever," Iota scoffed. He reached for the designated lantern chair that sat around the circular JLA table along with all the other designated hero chairs. He padded himself down nicely with a plop into its well cushioned seat, "I'm going to take a breather..." he lightly understated as he swivelled the chair towards the inner table and lifted his feet in the process before letting them fall to relaxation on the table top.

"Well then good fellow," Nightwing danced to the table breaking in between two of the chair and glaring across at Iota with a smile, "perhaps I could enchant you to a little problem that assuredly not even our logical speed freak can't answer." Interval grunted a shot of air out at the notion almost immediately as he began to play with the switch board of the computer.

Iota leaned forward glancing briefly at Interval before bringing his full attention to Nightwing, "guess I'll have to show you just how crafty I can really be," he nodded his head in affirmative gesture, "hit me with your best shot bat-boy."

"I plan to," Nightwing cracked his neck to the left, "suppose you, me and Interval are in an old western shoot out, each of us only having one bullet. Now then suppose because of my sharp shooting abilities, I have a ninety percent chance of hitting my target and Interval, because of his lest than modest weaponry use enables him a seventy percent chance, while you, with the most flimsy of all abilities have a ten percent chance," Iota, just as Interval before, grunted his displeasure over the hidden insults that Nightwing kept within his verbal jousting, "the question is, what do you do with your bullet?"

"Shoot you!" Iota immediately barked back.

"Well than you miss," Nightwing threw out his palms and chuckled, "and even if you do hit me with your lazy firing hand, Interval just comes in and shoots you and ends up winning."

"Guess you think you're really smart here?" Iota barked back with much resentment eclipsing his cognitive abilities.

"Well, guess we'll only know if I manage to stump you," Nightwing continued in his cheery voice, "you're thinking much to small, just as you always have...what can you do to ensure that you won't be shot at the end?"

"Initialization complete," Steel's head came to a stop, square centre of his body with the darkened monitor screen above him, "Power restored to all sections; moving to updates."

Interval stepped back from the computer board and examined the now stationary head of their iron hided friend. The confused Bat-Boy raised his head and looked across at Interval, watching as his speedster friend appeared to peak an eyebrow under his scarlet tinted cowl, "What does that mean?" Nightwing prodded as he straightened his back, pulling his hands firmly to his waist sides as he stepped a few paces towards the console.

"Means we can finally start giving this place a run through," Interval smiled as he returned the short inspired glare which resonated in Nightwing as a pleasant chuckle. Suddenly his head broke off and looked all around the features of the cave, questioning internally what avenue of search he should be intently focused upon, but Nightwing appeared to beat him to any logical conclusions that could have been determined in time.

"Come on light-brite!" Nightwing snarled across the table as he ran by, briefly restoring little life to Iota whom cocked his head up slightly to eye down the black figure running by, "time to redecorate!" Nightwing zipped towards the side of the cave opposing the enfranchised monitor wall; the cave, though circular in its domain, fitted a square like formation of stainless steel plates that quickly tapered off into the jutting stones of the cave walls themselves following the height of at least one floor. While the adjacent left wall to the electronic wall was the open slanting entrance way, the third and fourth walls possessed a series of door frames, three to each of them.

"There should be a teleporter and an elevator somewhere around this main room," Interval commented as he took to a normal human pace in catching up to his colleague. Iota glanced at the excited Nightwing with some disdain, dropping his feet the ground and angrily pressing his hands around the table ledge to turn and disembark for at the very least one of the entrance ways chosen. A series of crates ranging from grey canvas covered, wood plank composed boxes and steel sidings towered in the corners save for the one between the main monitor and the primary entrance way giving way to the possibility that something sat underneath their mass.

Nightwing came to an abrupt stop at the first door frame nearest to the cave entrance and slammed his hand up against it as though his immediate show of strength would somehow be the cause of opening it, "quicker, come on!" he shouted as he saw the crack between the two panels that composed the door began to slip away from one another forming a crack at its centre.

"Patience," Interval calmly spoke as he came up close to Nightwing standing to his left backside. Iota shook his head and squinted his eyes as he came up close, scratchy the back of his head and yawning before stopping at Nightwing's right side, "these doors haven't been accessed in nearly two decades...looks like we're going to have to be cleaning some things."

"As in us?" Nightwing looked briefly from the door to scowl Interval. Turning back, the slow moving gears that threw out the sounds of worn down gears had bent the entrance open a single foot, "I thought the reason we got Steel was to deal with all these house warming things?"

"You know he has a life now," Interval hurriedly barked back.

"He's a machine," Iota confirmed with his cold demeanour, wincing his eyes to get a clear down the opening passage way, "let's just program him and move on our way...I don't want to be dealing with cleaning junk any more than any one of you," he affirmatively stated as he pressed forward with a strong step of his right foot.

Ahead of the three heroes was a long hallway that seemed to stretch for half a mile. It was lit adequately from the entrance way to the end with flat fluorescent lights that lined the high ceiling above and reflected off the silvery panel laid floor resulting in a slight glow of the aquarium like walls. Every few metres a doorway like those on the inner cave wall lined either wall: one first to their immediate left and another to their right someway down continuing in such a pattern all the way down to the end which provided some variable interest. Although it would be quite the walk, the boys had come to recognize a circular platform which glowed a strange blue from the floor up immediately effecting the shaft like formation that circled around it.

"One teleporter down," Nightwing cheerfully said, "you guys stay here, I'll link it back to the mainframe," he took to a heroic posture and stomped heavily into the ground as he proceeded to move down the hallway.

"It's some sort of living quarters," Interval commented as he followed through, reaching for the first door on and tapping on it with a bulging knuckle band, "probably not used much," he buttoned an eye on his two colleagues, "all things considering."

"Now this could make an adequate weekend home," Iota looked up at the lighting, smiling and placing his hands firmly around his waist, "would beat sleeping on the floor."

"And Steel can be the maid also," Nightwing quickly pivoted on his right foot facing down Iota and happily agreeing with his sentiment.

"He's a member of this team," Interval mired with disbelief in his allies, "you guys can't just be treating him like he comes with the cave, his programming allows him to grow and to become more than just the machine that he is."

"Programming thought..." Nightwing swiftly turned in, flipping out open palms to the side of his body and smirked, "it's not going to change the fact that he can be programmed to forget," he took a small gulp as his eyes seemed to wobbled towards looking to Iota and Interval, "I don't remember being born, yet it was probably the most important part of my life...Steel remembers everything, he was switched on."

"He doesn't remember that," Interval stepped down from his monotone to defend his new friend, "I haven't been able to-"

"You haven't found anything?" Nightwing scoffed, "that doesn't really say much, some of his files have been lost, deleted for whatever reason, its not like its got amnesia..." he relaxed his shoulders and took a deep breath in, analyzing the uncertainty that seemed to appear in Interval posture, "truth be said, I think its best we delete everything from him before he turns into one of those Guardians and tries to kill us..."

"There was a reason," Iota jumped in, "that his final order was self-destruction...maybe you 'saving' him was the wrong idea, I have to agree with the twip," he scowled Nightwing, "if you can take out programming from him, maybe you oughta put something new in him, prevent him from being uh..." he waved out a hand searching for a proper word and although one stood at the end of his tongue he relented from saying it.

"Freed?" Interval stated shortly, giving relief to Iota's vocal chords but simply denying him of moral resolution. Interval looked as his colleagues with sullen eyes that now became more visible as he lowered his chin removing the ceiling glint from his goggle pieces. A moment of silence passed as the new friends looked awkwardly at one another in their meagre triangular formation, the hallway they stood in seemingly becoming wider as the seconds passed.

"Come on," Nightwing snapped through the cloud of blankness with his cheery voice, "we can bunk up around here as long as we're around," he smiled and glanced to the two others, "its league quality so they can't be all that bad right?" He let out a large expiration of breath, breaking the formation and crossing back towards the way they had just passed through, "why don't we see if they got a weapons locker or really anything that could qualify as a weapon of mass destruction."

"Once again," Interval returned with some uncertainty to his seriousness, "do you honestly believe the league would just have that sort of stuff laying around here? This place has been abandoned for decades!"

"Well," Nightwing commented as the door panels began to slip away from one another once more upon his steps coming in close, "we don't know if we don't start looking."

* * *

"This would be the workout room no?" Iota commented. He placed his fingers upon the large glass pane window ahead of them and looked down at the floor of the massive gym room below, its pure white floors and walls glistening brighter even more so in the more than adequate flat lightening embedded in the ceiling. Interval and Nightwing stood at the centre of this hexagonal shaped upper room which hung over top of the gymnasium like a command centre. A meagre black wall crunching desk surrounded the solid window panes that seamlessly curved around the hexagonal shape of the three foot high wall that Iota's feet were soon kicking up against. Exit ways were both to their left and right, a room built for observation and commands above the main stage below where heroes of past generation took to training with one another kick to kick and fist to fist. It was more or less in line with the rest of the cave conforming to the silver square plaques that formed the floor and the sharp off blue colouration that primarily decked the walls back behind them where no windows existed.

"Must have stripped everything from up here," Interval rushed up to the black wall desk, feeling his hands along its rigged surface and looking at the the wall space above it, just a few inches between the top and the glass window, "there was some sort of equipment bolted down here before."

Iota pressed off from the glass and looked down to where Interval had been tracing his hands all in a bout soon coming in conflict with his sides forcing him to take a few steps back where Nightwing was nodding his head and acting patiently with a few taps of his toes when the lack of excitement got too excruciating to work through mentally.

"I could easily hook this place up with some new systems," he rose up and turned around to face them, "I know one of my predecessors developed some of the leagues training simulations...I could install one of them for us to work on our way of crime fighting."

"Way of crime fighting?" Nightwing raised an index finger to his lips and puzzled over the notion that had left to be explored.

"Yeah," Iota let out a deep moan and shook his head with dissatisfaction, "Kyle's got me doing a enough training drills as it is...why don't you say we pretend we do all this 'training' and then wing it at every encounter we're involved in?"

"Yes, because that's worked out so well before," Interval sarcastically responded, body shaking lightly as he broke character, "if we want to function as a team we got to be more disciplined-" he started as he pressed his right fist into the open palm of his left hand, feet spaced and now steady as he narrowed his vision at his teammates whom stood next to one another.

"Come on, let's go find something," Nightwing abruptly turned to his left interrupting Interval's distasteful notion, "this just got boring really quick."

* * *

"A library?" Nightwing shouted with much disdain on his mind.

"I haven't seen a book in..." Iota started with strength but it soon lost its muster, "well I guess it hasn't been all that long ago."

"Cassie's got piles of this stuff in her office," Nightwing reached for the solid books firmly enfranchised on a steel shelf, "too be honest, I don't know what the fascination is with all these old texts. The bat-searcher can pick up any information I need without wasting a moments time rummaging through a book page by page."

"It's a lost art," Interval started. He placed his hand on a thick green hard cover bound book, feeling the tips of his fingers through the gloves wrinkling the tops of pages, "I haven't heard of these even being made in my time..." he pulled the book from the shelf, tilting it from the side as he examined the gold lettering, "the complete articles of John Nash..." he spoke in whispers as he pulled the book down into both hands and looked along the dust ridden cover.

The three heroes were standing on over hanging balcony, a rectangular unit that sat on the departing first floor line leading into the second. The Northern side was a wall with three metre and half wide metal shelving units that were bolted together side to side and contained an array of books that extend upward the entirety of the second floor with the soft inner stones of the cavern arched above them. The bookshelves continued along the walls all the way throughout the entire perimeter of the rectangular shaped room, but only the balcony was made to be suitable walking space where as the extensions along the sides jutting out from it were only wide enough to be simple walk ways, half way through of which had two stair ways down on either side aimed steeply to the floor where more bookshelves circled around the entirety of the room. It was much a narrow room but evidently well packed with a variety of information in the antiquated book format.

"So you expecting to spend much time up here then?" Nightwing prodded Interval pulling his attention away from the book in his hands.

Looking up, Interval took in a deep breath, "at my speed?" he curved his head to look at his teammates, "if I wanted to read through all this I could have do it within the hour..." he rose the book up to his head height, "I've already read through this," he calmly spoke, "lets move on from here then shall we?" he simultaneously questioned as he placed the book back on the shelf.

"Wait," Iota jutted in clenching his fingers into fists and crossing the bulk of his arms across his chest, "there's a training arena and workout room so reasoning from there then there must be-"

"Swimming pool!" Nightwing peaked up with a tooth filled smile.

"Not exactly where I was getting at," Iota pulled his chin to his shoulder and looked at Nightwing with wide eyes, "but I suppose that would make sense right?" he looked at Interval but got simply a returning dry glare from the fed up speedster.

* * *

Iota flipped his fingers through the clean water, letting the moisture break free into the the circular outlets of his gloves and reach into the air pocket that formed underneath the encasement drenching it. Nightwing soon joined him, dropping to his knees and leaning over the water to take a look at the reflection that formed, himself next to Iota. Interval stood some distance behind them on the significant rocky land mass while the cave walls surrounded them like an the typical dome cave but cut in half by the back westward wall, "meeting to your specifications?" he commented nodding his head around to get a clear intake of his surroundings finding himself enjoying the real aquatic atmosphere that the indoor lake of water formed.

"Wonder how deep it goes," Nightwing looked up an anticipated its depth in relation to the extensive length of the pool reaching out from the edge of which he sat on, "I could totally tap into my connections and get a hot tub hooked up good in here," he looked over to Iota whom instantly locked vision with him.

"We don't need a hot tube," Interval returned to his monotone, commanding with some minor authority, "just like we don't need a pool, it'll take away from the work that we should be focusing upon."

"Your becoming just like the machine," Nightwing informed Interval of this thinking just as an open smiling was forming on his face. He tossed his arms up in the air playing with them like the zombies he imagined killing, "we're actually human sometimes despite what we do on a regular basis...this place should be where we kick back from all the crap we get from our mentors and school."

"I don't even go to school..." Interval swiftly responded, the authoritative vocal intuition having dropped from use.

"Count your blessings," Nightwing responded shortly as he pressed his fist against the floor and came upright on his feet which he proceeded to look at as Iota soon joined him; their reflections still prominent but from a farther distance now, "dude, we're totally going to come back here tonight and show you some of the more happier sides of life," he winked at Interval over his shoulder.

"They've got like a thousand closets and hangers in this place and nothing interesting within them," Nightwing complained with some resentment over the designing plan of what turned out to be their home.

"I thought the hanger was kind of cool," Iota commented, "very spacious...who knows," he smirked, "maybe the League can get us a jet or something."

"That would be quite the dream," Interval stepped in with a dry coarse voice as he stepped at the forefront of his team into the room, "what have we here?" he softly brought the question to himself.

"This just another stupid closet room?" Nightwing continued with his complaining, losing interest in the adventure of searching throughout their home, "it's great they left us all these empty boxes, who knows when we might want to like move or something?" Nightwing waved his hands out and pointed to the steel crates which had taken to the surrounding walls only unlike that of the piles that existed in the main room, these one were arranged in straight lines along the sides and were somewhat even in height, "what is this place?" Nightwing slip a sly glare at Interval.

"Trophy room..." Interval's voice trailed off as he came to a sudden pause along at the centre colleagues which also dropped to a sudden stop. A devastating sight within their eyes developed distilling the illustrious blue glow of the walls from their vision. Ahead of them were three simple statues of beings, kids their age, just standing there in heroic stances. The one to the left, ahead of Iota, was a figure that was seemingly reaching up to the air to fly with one strong foot firmly attached to the circular cement base. The second leg was bent at the knee allowing for the foot to be flat but connected to the first outstretched leg's knee. Its hands, gloved with thick collars, were clenched down into fists with the right hand aimed upwards into space, the other not too far behind it just raised above its head which was smooth and staring up to the ceiling with sightless stones eyes. A thick jacket sat on its shoulders and flared into distinction around the stone sculpture. The most notable enticement of the figure however for the lantern boy was the 'S' shaped insignia on the statue's chest, the same insignia that was found upon Steel's chest.

The second figure, standing at the centre of its group directly ahead of Interval was a rather sharp figure. Strong shoulders and muscular limbs, arms bent in from the elbow out forcing the hand firmly around its waist. Its legs were sturdy looking and planted on the circular cement platform of which it stood. The costume that was obviously embedded into the grey sculpture was of notable interest, its glove were thick and stretched up the forearm but left the elbow and a bit of the upper arm exposed before continuing in tight tunic and leggings that continued down into thick boots. A cape of stone surrounded the entirety of the humanoid form but despite such form, it had the added flare of flowing to its left side. The domino mask, the square jaw, the solemn stone lips, and the accursed 'R' insignia on its right chest which immediately drew his eye.

The third and final figure, the one that stood across the way from Nightwing was a rather odd statue in that it appeared to be in full movement at the time of its sculpting, frozen in the time of its immense stride. A large foot forward in the air waiting to pound into the ground with another massive booted foot tipped against its circular base. The hands were right forward in their fist formation following the strides of the run, head transfixed on whatever direction it was heading with wavy long hair blowing in behind it. And although no insignia was notable of the figure, one could not help but notice some similarities in this one and the one that Interval was currently wearing.

"Who are they?" Iota commented as he approached the statues, raising a hand to reach for the figure up ahead of him, running his arm along the stone arm of the statue, "looks old...still pretty solid."

"I don't know," Interval quickly responded, "but they look much too young to be a part of the Justice League," he quickly jumped in avoiding what any repercussions might come from his lacking knowledge.

"I think there was a team that holed out here after the justice league abandoned it," Nightwing commented, "I think Cassie used to hang out around here with them," he shyly admitted as he too approached the statue ahead of him, but something was wrong with his steps; an uneven pouncing in his thick grey boots as the collar sloshed around tapping at the sides of his legs, "guys," he spoke through a saliva drenched throat as he came to a pause in front of the sculpture, his eyes beginning to turn to a blurry soap preventing him from making any further notes regarding the statues, "I'm not feeling to well," he attempted to continue but this quickly slurred into a raspy voice.

"What's the matter with him?" Iota looked back to Interval as he backed away from the three statues, "Nightwing?" he prodded as he looked back to his teammate with some concern.

Nightwing began to grunt and rub his stomach while his eyes clenched down. His arms, numb, pulled up from his stomach and reached for his head, clutching his bony fingers to his cowl laced cheeks and rubbing up against them roughly with all the strength that he could hope to muster. The ten digits continued to work their way through his face reaching his eyes but piercing the heavily armoured face plate proved to be much too difficult to provide the relief he desired.

"Nightwing?" Interval called out this time, a hand raising to reach for the teammate's shoulder but being uncertain as to whether he really wanted to touch upon such feelings of sympathy, "Nightwing?" he questioned once more a more serious undertone to his voice.

All was lost in Nightwing's mind however, slipping away quickly. He wrapped his fingers around the edge of his cowl, imprinting his fingertips connecting the nodes to release the cybernetic clamps that kept it shut in such position. His head became jittery as he slowly caressed the thick fabric like cowl pulling up from his forehead and let it drop behind his neck, his hands instantly reaching to cover his eyes, his spotless black hair falling and conforming to its natural flow against the top of his hands, "I think you should leave..." the growl emanated from his direction.

Interval continued his approach, "what's wrong," he came to a stop when he was on par with Iota, tilting his head to take a look at the hunching teen hero that coward down in front of the three statues, "Nightwing?" he questioned once more. In that single moment, the speedster resorted to his talents that resonated from within the Speed Force, slowing time around him as he watched Todd's head curve back with the strangest look of innocence. Catching him off guard though was the state of his eyes, the once crystal blue eyes that echoed the ocean had fallen apart, broken down to an inhuman red that pulsated through the eyeballs and started to glow strangely with sparks emanating from the boy's irises. Within the second that followed, Interval's hands wrapped around Iota's stomach clasping him tightly and pulling him away from the statues heading back down the long narrow room aimed for the distant door way. Without time to wait for the slide to take in effect and increasing difficulty in moving his legs in sync with the natural movements of the screaming Iota, he dove into the door frame breaking the frames which at his speed bent the panels outward. The two only coming to an stop when Interval purposely fell down to his bottom and slid along the floor taking the brunt of the smash up against the cave wall of the wide spanning hallway. Interval faced much difficulty in his weary bones as he attempted to get back up and moving away from the apparent threat that existed within the trophy room. Within the moment at hand though, Iota, laying over top of the down trodden Interval, had his ring hand letting it glow forming a bubble tight shield of energy around themselves with hope that enveloping explosion within would not send any punctures through to them. Quite fortunately the blast was rather smaller than one might have expected, the noise still living ringing but nonetheless the the slide panels, bent out of shape by Interval dive, snapped from their groove and smashed up like pancakes against the sarcophagus sized emerald force field, bouncing along the floor and then dropping to the ground under the force of gravity upon hitting the solid stone wall.

The shield dropped suddenly and Iota rolled off to the side allowing for Interval to pull his legs free, "mind telling me what that was all about?" Iota spoke with disdain as he tried to pull himself back up to his feet. Within seconds, Interval was back up with his inquisitive state of mind and working his way towards the blown through door frame, recognizable damage having been done to the stone sides which had been torn away at forming rubble piles. This all caused by whatever explosive damage Todd had been behind.

"Nightwing?" Interval cried out as he stepped within the narrow room aiming himself at a much slower pace than what he was used to, prepared for whatever he may be forced to encounter. Tip toeing his way around the warped metal crates and broken stone debris he came across a strange unexpected sight, "Who are you?"

Iota soon caught up, approaching the scene with a light job but coming an a sudden stop with a slide standing on par with the speedster, eyes wide and puzzled by the appearance by a new player, "Hello," a coarse voice broke the tension. The person was plainly humanoid in design but his skin was unlike anything that either of them had ever seen before, a pure white hue, chalk like in every facet with no change in any of the tight crevices formed by his twisting body parts. He, for that was what he assuredly appeared to them as, had long black hair that stretched across his scalp forming several spikes curved slightly to his left side. He had black triangular like shapes that surrounded his lightly yellowed glowing eyes and stubble of black hair on his button chin. He wore a plain grey sleeveless shirt with dark blue lines running horizontally along it spaced by every inch as well as a black vest which hung loosely on his shoulders and flowed out from his sides. A tight pair of blue jeans hugged his legs tightly with a black belt keeping them upright to his waist, the centre of which contained a white skull, the teeth being square like and lacking in a noticeable bottom jaw line to keep the top in order. Although the jeans were suitable enough, the figure additionally had on his knees bubble like pads which connected to the bottom half of the black leather chaps which continued into a thick boots with steel a steel toed appearance on its outside. In completion to his costume, his hands were wrapped tightly in black fingerless gloves which as such revealed the tips of his nails to have been painted black; a style not seen since the nineties. He raised a hand to his mouth and coughed lightly into it before proceeding to take a gulp and look at the two baffled heroes, "sorry," his voice continued in its raspy state, attempting to reach a more solidified depth, "I haven't spoken in a long time...much less breath."

"Who are you?" Interval prodded once more. He looked around the standing figure and saw there to be Todd passed out on the ground his body pulled up nearly into a ball on his left side, he was most certainly sick and at the moment quite passed out from some apparent exhaustion that had evidently manifested itself in the explosion and appearance of this stranger.

"I'm Slobo...?" the figure spoke out with a nodding head unsure as to whether his words, his name, would be recognized in the way that he had imagined, "whose the bastiche who pulled me from the rock?" he firstly pulled his hands to cross over his chest brooding in his anger but this quickly saw itself to an end when he found himself blinking rapidly, hands reaching up to touch his eye lids and feel the movement of the ball underneath them, "I got to thank him," he appeared to become cheery, "I can see again."

* * *

Nightwing slumped in his Batman chair around the circular table, his elbows firmly placed upon the table top pushing his hands up to the top of his head where he caressed his fingers into the bat-ears letting the solid sharp edges of the ears to roam freely into the space between his fingers.

"Are you sure you alright?" Interval questioned as he circled around the table towards the main console where Steel continued to sit and stare blankly into the space ahead of him.

"What happened in there?" Iota then beckoned but suddenly turned his line of interest to the strange creature walking alongside him, "and who is he?" he waved out a accusingly hand gesture to the pale ghost of a boy.

"Well aren't you guys well adjusted?" Slobo grunted out.

"You match appearance: Lobo," Steel's booming voice echoed throughout the cave immediately drawing the attention of all the people within save for Nightwing whom continued to aim his head down in shame, brooding over the incident that had occurred moments before.

"That's right," Slobo responded, "got a say though," he threw his hands out to his sides exposing the entirety of his body and smirked towards the robotic man in the console chair, "not much of a real look to him."

"Are you not Cznarian?" Steel questioned.

"Not exactly," Slobo swiftly respond, relaxing his shoulders and assuming his rather uptight demeanour, "I'm sort of an awful clone of the bastische...the Czarians kind had this thing about cloning from single drops of blood," he looked around at the heavily interested Interval and Iota whom continued to glare at him, "and when Lobo lost it all I was one of them save I totally survived!" his voice peaked with excitement as the smile reformed on his face.

"You could see again?" Interval questioned working his way up close to Slobo, "what did you mean by that?"

"I wasn't exactly the most pure bread," Slobo's eyes tensed up, the black surroundings clogging up the appearance of the yellow ovals of his eyes, "I was dying when it all went down..."

"What went down?" Iota called out now, interested as he turned the green lantern chair and plopped himself into it looking across the table to see Slobo and Interval standing near one another, Nightwing still moaning his cries and sighs in the foreground.

"Got hit by an omega beam, took on some mean bastiche from another world," he turned to see the Batman logo that decorated the back of the chair that Nightwing sat upon. He walked over slightly and pulled on the nearby chair, circling it on its base and finding it comfort in the well cushion bottom, "your friend here's got some power," he stopped the turning of the chair so as to come to face Nightwing's side, seeing the young bat-boys head which never once moved to acknowledge his presence.

"Nightwing?" Interval assumed his monotone, "what happened to you in there?"

"Interval," Steel's cold outperforming voice brought up a sudden jerk in Interval neck as his head turned to face the machine, "I am having difficulty accessing the league current database, the software here is not compatible."

"Alright," Interval sighed as he stepped towards Steel, "let's see if we can rewire some of this tech to my home computer, give you a boost."

"Are you going to tell us?" Iota beckoned, his hands clumping together on the table top, a sneer across at his slumping colleague. Nightwing still appeared to not be all that interested, a slight nod upward with his eyes piercing through to Iota causing some slight discomfort and disgust, "going to play that smart game with us? I ain't going to play along if you're going to tick off like a bomb sooner or later..." but despite such pleas, there was never any desired reaction, "what's an omega beam?" he turned to Slobo bringing him in close to the discussion.

"Dude, I don't even really know," Slobo barked back, "just some weird laser particles from another dimension, froze me in stone long enough...I ain't looking back to it."

"I don't know what happened," Nightwing's arms dropped as he raised his head to look up to Iota, "this has never happened to me before."

"No," Iota turned away from the table and smirked, "I bet that you know something, but your just not willing to tell..." he became tense and crossed his head to his shoulder to snarl at Nightwing, "Do you deliberately conceal information from us? Cause at any time we could end up dead if you fire off again."

You just can't stand it can you?" Nightwing slammed his fists against the table top becoming stern and more complete, "I don't need powers to be here, I make my own position here."

"Oh you think you're so smart don't you?" Iota snarled back, swivelling on his chair to come on par with his opposing teammate, "that since you make the decisions around here that you can also keep all the secrets to yourself too, well...best team leader ever right here!" he waved a hand at the bat-boy holding onto his immensely sarcastic reflection.

"Smart?" Nightwing tensed up, "you're so simple minded, you know that? All the power in that little ring of yours and the best you can muster up some giant boxing gloves and old-fashioned laser beams...where's your creativity?"

"Can you two shut up!" Slobo rung in, his head bobbing down to the table where his crossed arms rested. His forehead sunk in deeply within his flesh bound arms, "your giving me a headache!"

"It's not working!" Interval tossed a bundle of small red cords against the computer board letting them break away from one another into their individual orientation which fluttered around and bent as they fell to the ground. He dropped to the ground and examined the exposed black computer panel underneath the main board and all the little slots and holes that glowed their strange yellow light and keys, "this computers from the dark ages, who uses copper cables anymore?" his voice grew much more fierce drawing the ire of Steel whom rose his head sharply, spinning the chair to face down the young speedster.

"I have a strange sense of anxiety," Steel looked across the room and noticed the argument developing between the other team members, "and annoyance...I do not like it."

"You're feeling now?" Interval rose up and appeared to shout the question to Steel, "have you always had that ability and not tell any of us? How much time till you start plotting out a plan to have us all killed?" Interval's voice slurred as the speed his body was so infatuated with began to creep in on his anger.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," Steel spoke in the usual calm but nonetheless there was a sense of desperation, "for that it infuriates me."

"Can you shut up for a minute?" Nightwing claws now at the table top as he rose up from the chair, "I'm in charge, accept it or get out!" he waved a menacing finger towards the exit way behind Iota. The ensuing silence and snarls that followed between the arguing teammates sparked a sudden interest in Slobo whom rose his head slowly, something was in the room and no one had bothered to notice its presence.

"Guys?" Slobo voice peaked, "there's something here..."

The middle door of the wall to their right, the one leading to the trophy room, had been bent out of shape. The two dual silver panels having been pushed apart at the centre from one another under an immeasurable force, the source of which was soon to be recognizes as all five sets of eyes worked their way from the broken frame to a trailing monstrosity that towered in the cave with evident anger present in its sharpy beady eyes.

All three bodies that occupied chairs of the round table pivoted on the tubular beam support with their chins simultaneously bending upward with puzzled eyes. Steel continued to sit, perplexed, still wired to the supporting cave computer system while Interval soon rose to his full strength, body somewhat numb as he made his approach towards the appearing creature, one small step after another, his interest somewhat spiking as the facets of the entity became more focused.

It appeared as a tall gangly creature, long arms that extended into longer and wide spaced fingers by comparison and long legs which stoppered at longer feet by proportion which sprouted from the stubby toes long yellow nails that curved into a point that scratched against the ground. The spine was at the very least a full metre and curved down like a sickle with a thick circular ball like skull that was flat and smooth, the eyes triangular aimed inward while the lips also seemed to make use for teeth, though this was not to say much for it seemed that the lip like teeth extended back into its mouth, several sets with decreasing lengths of the triangular shapes. As shocking as this was, this frail simple appearance of the creature, the most striking part of the was that of the wide brim bat wings that unfurled from their clenched up state as the beast snarled loudly spraying a purple like tar from its mouth while extending its sorry excuse for limbs apart, upright and aimed for the ceiling. A thickly bone substance was at the top of the wings while the coating fell underneath breaking down as it did like loose hanging skin. Standing at its full extent it became quickly evident that a rather thick tail was flinging around at its back, its length being almost as plentiful as the entirety of the creatures height. It was a pasty orange that threatened deeply into the spectrum of purple as conveyed in the dark eyes.

"What is that?" Iota jumped out of his chair and pointed up at the creature as it continued to rise and bend over on its back to continue its imitating glare upon the team and Slobo, "What is that?" his head dropped from looking up and crossed the table ground to get an answer from Slobo.

"Well this explains a lot," Slobo dutifully responded. He and Nightwing also pulled themselves free from the chairs and backed away from the creature that came to dominate the opposing wall. Interval stepped forward and came on par, his attention to the entity that had evidently frightened them.

"What is it?" Interval questioned holding his hand firmly on Slobo's shoulder and jolting him to attention.

"It looks like a Sonnerian," Slobo swiftly responded, locking eyes momentarily with the intense Speedster, "it's a war scavenger," he said with a new found intensity, a swift commanding upper lip, "a telepathic creature that feeds off the anger, resentment and hatred of others..."

"Hence the war part," Nightwing commented, "but there ain't no war going here now, how did it get here?"

"Probably the same way you got me," Slobo retorted sharply, "looks like you've opened up some sort of gateway."

"Great! You might just not blow us up after all!" Iota shouted as he jumped up onto the table top and darted for the ledge nearest to the creature which puzzlingly glared at them, head tilted and eyes somewhat moving from side to side, its claw like hands moving so slightly on every knuckle.

"It doesn't need a war," Slobo continued, "just needs some fighting in its sphere of consciousness, what better place to start than a Super Hero hub? Violence is like your second language," he glared towards his new friends.

"How are we supposed to fight it?" Interval questioned, but the moment was less than deserved when Sonnerian let out a long withdrawn bellow from the bottom of its lung capacity, snapping its lipped teeth to a wobbling cesspool of purple slob, Its arms reached for the cave dome top clawing along the soft stone sides while the wings followed in a similar reaction spanning further out to its tips before curling slightly and aiming upwards with a scream. The teen heroes and Slobo felt their legs turned to a gelatine mush, Iota for one falling to his bottom necessitating the use of his arms to block his fall entirely. Interval rose an arm over top of his eyes and clenched his teeth down tightly, "what is that all about!" he grunted further, pulling Slobo back to him once more. The Sonnerian however refused to wait around for the questioning period to convince; with a jolt of malicious intent, the creature feet rose from the ground as the wings fluttered rapidly developing a strengthening pattern of air underneath him. Head aimed down, arms spaced out and feet held tight close to one another, the odd gangly form of the creature aimed towards the dual exit and entrance way on the adjacent wall.

Recognizing the next move the entity would be taking, Iota, wide eyed and unprepared, planted his fingertips into the table and began to rapidly shovel himself backwards along the at table top as the forced wind formed under the creature's massive wings blew outward along the table top as it darted by the side towards its freedom leaving Iota to grimace over the dryness installed in his mouth.

The heads of Nightwing, Interval and Slobo quickly turned and followed the beast and its majestic movements as it left their company; long held breaths suddenly bursting free from the lungs that kept them straight, "No really, what was that all about?" Nightwing questioned as his breathing rate readjusted to normal.

"It's weak," Slobo responded turning around to face down Interval, "needs to feed before it can take any one of us on; hard to imagine him finding a better source than here," he smirked and looked back at the transition of Iota to his feet and the angst ridden features of the bat-boy at his backside, "as long as there ain't no war going on nearby...looked pretty well sick, it's going to need something to feast on soon. You'll need to get to it before then though."

"Why?-" Interval was prepared to question but another voice snapped its continuation.

"Iota, Interval," Nightwing broke through with his authoritative voice, "tag along with the creature. Slobo and I will figure out a way to get it back into whatever gate way or hole I created," he stomped his feet against the silver plates of the ground as he headed towards the broken plates that comprised the centre doorway, the path leading to the trophy room where things first started.

"Really?" Iota spoke out with disdain, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head in disapproval, "you think I'm really going to be taking orders from you again?"

"Yeah!" Nightwing shouted as he abruptly turned around, back lowered and head up straight with mouth wide open, "cause I also happen to be the only one thinking clearly at the moment," he slapped an open palm to the side of his head, "the more we argue the more we give it what it wants, Slobo here says we can't have that, at the moment I feel inclined to believe him," he shook his shoulders and flexed his fingers as he pulled himself up straight, "we can argue about this later, but can you just do as your told right now! Beat the pulp out of it for all I care, better we take it on before it starts messing around with the innocent. Just be sure you bring back here as soon as possible!"

"Fine!" Iota shouted back. The emerald glow that emanated from his ring soon grew to conquer the entirety of his body which in turn began to rise up from the table hovering. With a touch of sin in his eyes, the teen lantern bolted towards the entrance way on hot pursuit of the devilish fiend that had become their current enemy, "just be certain that if anything happens to anyone, it's on your hands!"

"You should know," Slobo began to speak, grabbing hold of Interval's shoulder this time, pulling him back as he was preparing to jump to full speed and make his way to catch up with the long distant lantern boy, "Sonnerians travel in packs," he nodded his head to both Interval and Nightwing, "like I was saying, I think there's a good explanation for why your all upset and angry at one another: it's the Sondeerins that they usually travel with."

"And what do they do?" Nightwing puzzled.

"They build up tension and anxiety in everyone for their partners to feast off of...not all wars where they're from were started for purely political reasons, sometimes arguments just got out of hand when these bastiches got hungry!" he took a solid gulp, "I don't think we're alone at the moment, its here somewhere."

* * *

The top of interval's toes glided along the stream of water working against the slight curvature of the waves resulting in wide brush white wake. Long strides propelled the speedster at the increasing lengths, the water now acting as stepping stones for him to hop along, the incremental moment where neither foot touched being where the most movement forward took place. At this pace of speed it was not long till he was under the guided light of his lantern teammate Iota. "What exactly do you plan on doing when you catch up with it?" Interval's voice reached an unprecedented high pitch, anything to break the curdling sounds of the waves that roamed around him.

"Beat it to death," Iota responded with a stern attitude that was further exemplified in the grimace of his face. His teeth and hands were clenched down hard, the latter of which was aimed ahead of his head, squared out evenly with his shoulders holding such a posture that all heroes of all times had taken in flight.

"That's not going to cut it!" Interval angrily responded back, "it feeds off our violent thoughts and actions," he lowered his chin and snarled, angry as he ever pulling in fingers into tightly into globs of flesh coated with the illustrious scarlet leather feeling gloves that crumpled into the grooves of his knuckles.

"That thing is weak!" Iota retorted, "its Scared of me! Anyway, better off it comes after me before it moves to feast on some poor sap!" Iota pulled his arms back to his sides letting them hover slightly above his back forming a more efficient aerodynamic position, at least in his head, thereby enabling him to speed up to a pace comparable to Interval.

On the land ahead, just a few blocks in, a five level concrete structure sat at the corner end of at least one major street. It was quite a pale grey paint job done on every individual floor with a more solid thicker grey trim that ran along the line dividing the floors as well as the ground and the roof. Four windows existed on each floor and on each side of the building, completely symmetrical being with each window conforming to a metre in height and about one third of that in width; some were covered in two inch sized black mesh, a evident closing panel, while other remained opening accepting the full breadth of the sun inside the building. The building was divided from the others behind it by small alley ways, barely wide enough for a person to run through, which formed a closed off right angle meaning that anyone who ventured behind from one end could only turn the single corner to walk out to the other corresponding street. Fortunately, those two surrounding buildings were only three levels in height so the top windows on the last floors were not in vain.

Iota hovered above the region where the building was ahead and marvelled at the events that were unfolding on the ground below. The main road, its four lanes that appeared to run diagonal to the young hero, had been blocked off by white make shift gates; bars that stuck to the ground by blocks. The gates extended from the edge of the subjective building and crossed the street to the corresponding buildings on the other side thereby successfully blocking all possible land roaming buildings from reaching with in the area, not that it mattered since the region was most certainly beyond being empty of life save for the long arm of the law.

A score of police vehicles hovered around the building top while two sat parked just outside it. These vehicles were stocky at best, a larger square front that reached back to a similar sized block by a middle piece that appeared to curve inward at the bottom. Along the sidings, above this long curve was emblazoned the word 'Police' in thick black lettering. Two foot high black lines, the windshields, ran along the front of the vehicles and tapered off onto the sides stopping just short of when the front square ended and curve started underneath. A bright red light likewise sat at the very top of the front block of the vehicle blinking rapidly with no end in sight. At either side of the vehicle was a thick circular plate on long wing that jutted out from the centre like appendages. The plates hummed softly; the engines that kept them high in the sky. Troops, officers decked in white suits of armour with a wide variety of weaponry likewise surrounded the building caging it in awaiting orders to commit to raid of the structures dignity.

"How could it resist this," Iota spoke to himself under his breath as he dove down to ascertain the evolving situation that had brought the police out in force.

Interval feet snapped along the tar like cement of the street, taking to a light jogging speed, though fast be normal standards, to catch up to the far flung flying teammate above. He came to a sliding stop at the outer edge of the perimeter formed by the surrounding officers, a near twenty of them waddling around the grounds seeking orders or at the very least an excuse to use their high end weaponry. He stepped lightly around in a circle taking in the fullness of the surrounding area; the officers wore a primarily black full body uniform that was punctuated with particularity general white armour: a chest plate that wrapped around the entirety of their torso, shin pads that bulked up excessively around the knees, hard encased gloves that mirrored that of Iota's save the fingers were full, and finally the helmet, a feature which was noticeable for their distinctive circular bottom that reached down to their necks, a bar of dark tinted glass being in the upper portion of their heads where their eyes would be; it was bucket of a helmet. "What are you doing here?" a gruff voice intruded from his back side which almost immediately became his front when he twisted in half a second

"You need to get your men out of here," Interval barked his order, hands fluctuating between fists and neck chocking palms, the feeling of boiling blood building up throughout his thin skin.

"This is a simple raid, we have a possible hostage situation," one of the armed officers stepped forward and looked down at the teen hero hoping that his size would be adequate enough to intimidate the him out of their business, "let the police handle this the way we were meant too...Why can't you just move along?" the officer snarled and no doubt shared the experience of boiling blood which created heat and subsequent sweat within the encasing armour.

"Your men are in danger if you keep this up," Interval's voice continued to raise with slight dissatisfaction, hatred even as he waved his hands around at the officers whom stood firmly entrenched in the ground with their weapons drawn ready to be put under the test of trial by fire. The thought moved crossed to quickly as a rattle of bullets riddled off from a nearby fire arm, slicing the tension as it did with subsequent sounds of crumbling soft stone. The young hero and officer at hand however never broke the contact that existed through their visors, "your men are acting crazy cause there's something breaking them down telepathically bringing out their anger," he stammered out towards the end, uncertain of what words would best adequately serve his reason since the thought of the more proper vocabulary he assumed was being lost.

Iota hovered in slowly seeing now the bullet strays, the several indented marks in the paint job of the building that had been formed when one of the officers lost their nerves. Steps away the apparent perpetrator, gun still drawn, was being berated by another officer shouting notable expletives with wild out of control hand gestures.

"What is it exactly that we are worrying ourselves about?" the loud officers voice continued to bicker, gurgling through the excess salival liquid that his madness had produced.

"That!" Interval shortly retorted with a sarcastic jeer of arrogance, pointing up to the skies as the creature from the cave, the flurrying speed of yellow with highlighted dark shades of purple darted from the sky above, wings shredding the air around it at unimaginable speeds as it made its dive to the building, intent on finding a decent feast to bring back its strength. The forceful nature of the creature once more collided with Iota, this time on a physical level, sending him out to the left side upon contact of its massive shoulder bouncing hard against Iota's right back side.

"Watch it dreg!" Iota shouted out as he regained his balance, hovering in the air in an awkward position; hands raised over an imaginary keyboard, knees bent with feet vertically raised underneath his torso and head not so perfectly straight with the rest of his body as it curved down to follow the flight plan that the creature had taken.

The officer's watched in strange anticipation as the creature came to hang upon he corner edge of the building facing out to the cross section of the streets. Its claws breached the thin layer of paint, scratching away at its surface as it sought refuge from the pressure the teen lantern imposed with just his presence. It recognized within itself as one lacking strength in its rather soft feeling limbs which further became evident when it proved to be difficult to stay on such a perch for much longer, sliding and tearing down the thin coat of paint. In a desperate attempt, its long legs wrapped up closely to this corner allowing for its massive tail to stick out in the air to taunt the officers as it twirled about. The sudden lighting up of Iota appeared to have some startling effect on the creature as it scrawled around the ledge of the building reaching towards the first window, an open one, that was on side facing the lesser roadway. Its hind limbs flailed and wings curled close to its backside as his hands came to clasped the inner frame of the window. Some bending was required to ensure that its entirety would fit into the small window frame by comparison. Iota quickly decided that he wasn't going to wait for the Sonnerian to make a reappearance from its hiding hole, so with a quick burst of emerald energy, the lantern blazed a trail of light towards the window it had entered but it was within the moment of his reaching that the head of the beast made itself present in the hole, dragging along with it a body in its spindly fingers.

Iota came to a full stop and along Interval and the accompanying officers watched in well-deserved horror as it appeared that the man's body, he who was forcibly pulled from his imprisonment within the building, was lighting up in strange unearthly baby blue, melting away his skin to a solid core of the stuff. The body laid out in the Sonnerian's outstretched arms but was rather limp to the point of exhibiting death like characteristics that threw some revolt into the teen heroes stomachs: the creature had found itself some food.

"You need to get out of here now!" Interval reasserted himself leaping up somewhat to grab hold of the nearby officer's shoulder resulting in a dropping of the officer's head when he landed back down on the ground. The blue flame that surrounded the nameless body appeared to transfer itself towards the creature, running up along its arms and stretching along its chest. Iota slowed down his descent and broke up into an even standing position as he watched the creatures muscle tissue, the limbs having been once so barren and loose suddenly began to pop up, grow with ever expanding tissue till the creatures thighs, calves, and the full reach of its arms had become plump and manageable strong looking; it was taking in the essence of the man who it had pulled from the stock within the building.

When the blue glow faded and it seemed that its feasting had been completed, the Sonnerian dropped the lifeless body upon viewing the impending conflict that Iota presented, driving itself up for the clear skies hoping to escape such a disastrous venture. Having now developed the instinctive movements, Iota dove in to grab hold of the body that the creature so easily discarded. It was all gone, what humanity he held in his hands. Even the clothes, if he had been wearing any, were simply gone revealing the severely weakened, wrinkled and burnt exterior of the flesh; the bones being more recognizable with slumping thin layers of flesh hanging upon it. The eye sockets were swollen and black, the thick crevices between the bloated layers of flesh followed a similar like behaviour all while maintaining a very dark seeded tan; was he dead? Too difficult to tell, either way, the young hero could easily recognize that there was nothing he could do any longer for him but he could certainly bring to justice what monstrosity had done it to him. A casket of sorts was quickly produced from the energies of his ring and soon the body was handed off into it and lowered to the ground floor. The emerald beam that connected from the ring to the casket continued to extend as Iota reached higher into the atmosphere in a desperate pursuit to see this nightmarish entity brought to an end. The beam severed upon the casket hitting the ground below, leaving the corpse to the workings of the officers.

Interval traversed the streets, following the path that formed underneath the high flying Iota whom appeared to have clasped tightly around the Sonnerian's long tail which wobbled and shook in all direction while the teen lantern held on for dear life, pulling himself up along it perhaps in hope that the creatures backside would be much more easier to ride upon. Passing through the streets he could not help but notice a loud argument between two subjects seemingly over some food while an even larger argument that consisted of more people over a vehicle that had taken a nearby vehicle into a concrete barrier; this city was close to tearing itself apart but for whatever reason he could not bring himself to care all that much seeing now that all of these such issues blurred into after images of light. It became plainly obvious that the creature overhead was fluttering its wings towards the cave, back to where it had arisen from. Something was wrong back at home and the speedster caught upon this as he pattered away at the ground working to amp up his speed in preparation of crossing the gentle stream of water once more.

* * *

"I'm not cleaning that up," Nightwing scowled as he passed through the hallway, recognizing the bent, chard, broken remains of the door pieces from the frame leading into the declared trophy room. He picked up to an unconventional jog as he turned into the blown out entrance way, returning to the so called scene of the crime where Slobo, whom rushed in behind him, had first appeared. "Ok, what's that?" he questioned pointing up ahead. Pieces of the three statues that the young team had encountered earlier had been shattered with their pieces scattered throughout the room; bits of an arm, a head smashed into a hundred little pebbles only retaining the remnants of eyes and a nose, as well as the cape of that one character that had flopped on the ground and hadn't quite been broken through. Nightwing and Slobo slowed down to a slide allowing friction take them to a stop just in front of the crumbled statues where an unsightly flesh like chamber had appeared.

It was some sort of purple sack, tear shaped in its form on a account of a long spindly thick cord of slopping flesh stretching from its top connecting up to the ceiling in a series of eggplant coloured sticky webbing that stretched along the cave top. The large purple sac contained a series of green bubbles that seemed to boil a strange liquid from underneath. Jutting from it at various angles was series of tendrils, the webbing from above, that pulled upward upon the sac in between the spaces of the bubbles and connecting up to the much larger holding tendril like cord. A puddle of this tar, the purple extract that dripped from this sac, had formed just underneath it sucking in some of the smaller broken stones in to a composite combination.

"It's some sort of egg?" Slobo replied with uncertainty in his deduction. He crouched lowly a bit to take a good look at the boiling bubbles on the exterior seeing the glint of the light blending into the pus like liquid inside, "I'd say it's about ready to breach its pus bucket..."

"What is?" Nightwing turned to Slobo and shot his hands wildly in the air, "Answers boy! Answers!" he continued to shout in the tight commanding voice he had acquired. Anger and resentment boiled underneath his suit as he continuously stomped his right foot into ground; he was beyond the simple tapping that brought him relaxation.

"I don't need to give you answers!" Slobo shouted back, raising his chin and eyeing up Nightwing with contortion of his lips into a less than satisfied scowl, "you think I need you now that I'm free?"

"Yes," Nightwing angrily responded, clutching tightly upon Slobo's shoulders, his voice reaching to a higher pitched volume, "I created you so I can certainly uncreate you..." he back down from Slobo and took several long deep breaths as he contemplated how such a threat could be capitalized upon in a realistic fashion.

"Come on, this things just messing with our heads," Slobo snarled turning his attention back to the alien embryo, "we have to torch the bastiche, where's the company flame thrower?" he flexed his fingers as he looked around the trophy room awaiting a sturdy reply from the bat-boy.

"There's something else," Nightwing reared his head upward and tip-toed slightly to his left away from Slobo to get a good look around the embryo. It became quickly apparent that the portal had been found, a shard of red omega energy that boiled and glowed in a lightning bolt shape somehow hanging on the wall half a foot open closing into spikes at its two ends, "that must be it," he continued, "we got to like..." he rose up his hands to fists and shook his head rapidly with clenched teeth, "get it closed somehow after we shove these things back in. Agh!" he shouted throwing down his clenched hands, "where are the stupid people?"

"There's one that's coming through!" Slobo pointed towards the cut in dimensions where a thick pointed purple limb, a claw of sorts, wrapped around the ledge of the bolt and clung its tipped point into cave wall. Deeply penetrating it, it awaiting for its moment when enough strength was available to pull it through the meagre hole in space time, "it's a Sondeerian." It was not long till an stunted alligator snout proceeded to follow through from the claw, taking in the heat of the omega energy surroundings and puncturing through to the other side. The two boys reviled from the sight, stepping back and raising their arms to defensive posture. The preparations for a potential conflict were short lived however a shock beam of pink energy blew right by them towards the crack in dimensions slapping up against the beak of encroaching Sondeerian which winced in pain and snapped open its mouth in pain leading into an ensuing scream that wired in frequency as it fell back into the world it so desperately sought to escape from.

The two boys jolted somewhat from their feet as they turned to see Steel at the entrance way, right palm raised and aimed towards the rift. The thankful glare upon the boy's more emotional feelings was short lived however when they came to understand the full extent of Steel's success on the rift which immediately sparked within them a solution. The red omega strength rift had someone dampened in its intensity, losing its glowing muster, but not only that, the cut that it comprised it shape had been broke where the Steel's beam had hit nearly slicing the bolt in half, "what foreign alien technology did you say was used in building you?" Nightwing turned his head to the metal man with a smile.

A rumble and tug, sounds of twisting and turning within a bag of sore flesh brought the attention of Nightwing back to the embryo that had been implanted in their world, "its on the verge of breaking," Slobo commented as he approached, analyzing the three patch bubbles that faced them. Nightwing cringed in a fit of stomach sickness when he saw the half amount of pus flush itself around the bubble top from the sac; sucking deep within the centre pouch where the developing creature most certainly was coming into existence.

"Steel?" Nightwing shouted back to the metal giant while he pointed towards the embryo with a guilt ridden finger. Not much could be done however when the small tendrils that composed the bag like embryo snapped off from the sides, the bubbles and their noxious sludge sucked inside leading to the continual decreasing of its volume till it was small enough to nearly become a solid ball despite the interaction with the long tendril flesh cord that held it up to the ceiling. Within the next five seconds, the boys weaved their way closer to take a better look at the specimen, the outside having bulged into bulbs of that that had wrinkled like an old balloon that had lost its full air capacity. "Is that it then?" Nightwing scoffed. He took some steps back from it and briefly glanced over at Slobo, "why do I still hate you? Everyone!" he shut his eyes and shook his head from side to side, "yeah, guess that's just normal," the increasingly violent thoughts however dissuaded him from accepting that the current task at hand was complete.

The noise of swishing saliva soon pierced the built up tension that had overcome the room bringing the abrupt focus of the entities within the room back to the source, the embryo which continues to swish away with a light high pitched hum. The sound was inexplicably stopped upon the breakage of the embryo sac, exploding from within it eight sharp triangular pointed solid tendrils that at first stretched the bulges clean but quickly returned to a slopping mess cowering down around the sharp foot long feet forming at least in image, a spiked covered mace ball. The swishing liquid then started up again; eyes growing wide now as the ball appeared to expand, sliding upward along the spikes reducing their length significantly. Instinctively, Nightwing and Slobo rose their arms the bulk of the forearms of which covering their eyes to block the ensuing strength of the purple tar like substance that shot out form the exploding embryo of puss and goo which slammed up against them in bulk, slopping and dripping away in its sticky form. Slobo threw down his arms and let out a sharp cough followed by the gnawing of his tongue against his bottom rack of teeth unable to fathom the gunk that had just spilled all over him, ruining whatever he had hoped for the longevity of the uniform which was just past the state of being drenched.

The case of ruined outfits was much better for Nightwing, his uniform embracing the substance which splattered along his blue falcon logo but fortunately began to quickly decay, sliding down his chest and off from his body. He snarled down at the sticky substances as he ran his arms over top of his chest to peel off the extracts all while whispering some minor expletives regarding the current state he was in. Though terribly caught up with the ragged ordeal inflicted upon his excellently well fashioned uniform, his interest was pulled away for a moment to the creature, the young Sondeerian which had been hatched from the embryo upon its explosion. Nightwing let out a verbal gesture of disgust upon conceiving the creature in its full context.

It was a bug like creature, the Sondeerian, with thin thorax centre piece with six of eight spike like feet connected to it, three on either side. The abdomen was a bulking mass ball that was slowly lifting from the floor like a see-saw in connection with the front region of the creature, the familiar alligator like snout and teeth with jagged orange eyes, its neck curving upward like a snake protruding somewhere down the middle two angular arms that produced the final set of spikes, one arm to each side. Along this back of the serpents neck were staple like amour, jagged ribs on the outside facing outward with a series of single spikes on each half-foot plate. It was a thickly tar purple much like the slime from that spewed from the Sonnerian's mouth. In contrast to the Sonnerian, this young specimen of a Sondeerian was quite small, at most half its size. Regardles though, its size most certainly lead to the questioning of how it fit so snug in that small embryo like ball, but for Nightwing to puzzle over such reproductive cycles of alien invaders was to miss the severity of the situation at hand. The tips of the Sondeerian's multiple feet tapped along the concrete flooring of the trophy room, plotting a path through Nightwing and Slobo towards the Door where Steel waited patiently for the arrival.

Mouth opened unfurling its baby razor sharp teeth along with a magnificent shriek, the Sondeerina snapped upon Steel, catapulting its sharp pointed claws around the cold steel body, the force of which lead to the heavy ton body falling to the ground in a quick descent, muscular arms unable to move quick enough to block the loud fall of well refined metal against the shiny solid panels of the floor. The boys muscles tensed up as the metallic noise grated their ears resulting in a slight shrill of Nightwing's voice, "eek.".

The Sondeerian contorted itself through the open frame curving to its immediate left in the plight to locate its escape from the cave that imprisoned it. Nightwing and Slobo glanced at one another briefly before realizing it was in their best interest to follow up on the creature, paraded as they did towards the exit way, "ground scavenger," Slobo hobbled out from his breath deficient mouth, "still pretty powerful by all accounts."

* * *

Iota slapped away at the sides of the Sonnerian's head powering up his hands with a second set of gloves that were like chain-mail giving an added benefit to the punches he placed upon the creature's skin leaving a speckled imprint. He had crawled up along the creatures back, sitting upon its back as though a horse and while the the creature so desperately attempted to reach back and claw at the teen lantern, the poorly designed bone structure that defined proved this venture to be impossible. Grunting and moaning, Iota reshuffled himself upon the strong arch of the creatures back, kicking his heels into the top lines of the creature's bat like wings causing a shrill scream of pain from the creature when they made contact. He rose up his fists, clumping them together and then with a graceful move dropped this clump of emerald powered flesh upon the creature head turning that distinct shrill into a thunderous storm of painful moans that threw Iota slightly off balance as it began to plummet down to the crusting water surface, broken by the forcefully stride of the speedster Interval.

The claws of Sonnerian hands graced the water below but was soon encounter the rough patches of dirt when it headed into land. The shore's hard dirt sands became churned up by the thick bones of the creature as it scrawled uncontrollably against it. The creature stomached the blow, keeping its head raised, Iota on top, as it took to the rugged landscape of hard dirt piles like a dive bomber seeking the payload that sat within inside the open mouth of Justice Cave a few yards away. Arms crossed along the chest and wings furling in behind, the creature traversed along the shore breaking a deep pathway to the opening shredding the heavy soil upwards but every so often encountering an unbreakable boundary boulder or clay formation which necessitating a hopping imperative which catapulted its body along the shore even faster.

Running in by its side, Interval acknowledged with some awe of Iota will and ingenuity when it came to controlling the beast he had come to ride upon. Iota had his fists clenched tight around a green cord which circled tightly around the Sonnerian's mouth region. Despite the formidable resistance that the creature held against it, the tight cord that Iota held back up to his chest and even beyond his shoulder proved to be much too difficult for the creature to fight against. The pulling finally succeeded in forcing the creature to raise itself back up from the ground, flowing out its wings once more in a final dive towards the cave opening in attempt to break off its heavy burden which in turn let out an excited scream as the whipping movement forward forced his backside to lean back in anticipation of what laid ahead.

The Sonnerian flapped its way through the cumbersome entrance way, tips of the wings just rubbing up against the rocky edges of the tunnel in. Iota made a show of strength once more, forcing the creature to lower itself enough to the ground to allow for him to ride freely without any conflict from the ceiling above but he readily realized that his such force of muscle could not hold for very long. The creature tipped upwards sharply at the full entrance way, heading upwards towards the high ceiling with its upper head scrapping along that the dividing edge thereby proposing a challenging situation for the teen lantern whose eyes grew wide when he it became evident that there was only one option for him to take. The line he had created to control the creature almost instantly disappeared from his hands, he planted his open palms further down the creatures back and hastily shovelled himself backwards along it, sliding quickly. Reaching the tail, Iota left the lukewarm foundations of the creatures spinal features and sharply dropped to the ground a few feet below. No such dive was necessary with the application of the emerald ring which held him up straight before his all too human feet met to a crushing conflict with the hard stone flooring of the tunnel.

Interval quickly caught up in his fashion, stopping on par with his green glowing colleague whom with him also ventured a look within the cave, the circular table immediately there in front of them and the corner edge of the multiple monitor set up on the side but most interesting was the conflict that was occurring at the near centre: the Sonnerian flapping around in the circular shape that defined the cave dome while below it resided a cryptic purple bug like entity that whipped out at the air with two of its forefront angular spike limbs that stretched out from his reptilian like neck that curved upward sharply from the rather perfectly horizontal lining thorax and abdomen.

"There you guys are!" Nightwing screamed out as he rushed through the blown out door frame, one among the three that lined the left side wall on entry, "I got to do everything myself around here don't I?" he coughed and fell back, wide eyes and chin dropped as he recognized the Sonnerian flying overhead. Slobo soon followed in from behind, pulling up his right brow as he saw the other two heroes stand awkwardly together at the frame of the cave mouth.

"I brought it back here!" Iota swiftly turned to stare at Nightwing, pounding a fist to his chest, "Thought you said you were going to find a way to get it back in its cage!"

"Can you shut up for a moment," Interval barked out. He bowed his head down, clasping the fingers of his right hand to his forehead rubbing against the cowl fabric, "I'm trying to think this through."

"You didn't even do anything," Iota pivoted, turning to face down Interval now, "just ran around, is that all your good for? Running?"

"Shut up!" Interval's head rose abruptly, but in the moment he snapped created a bit of clarity as he noticed that the entities, these alien entities that roamed through the cave as though it were their own, had developed their muscular tissue somewhat, the flying Sonnerian for one seemingly strengthening its limbs and chest, stretching out in strength and muscle becoming more solid and tubular but of most regard to the young logical thinker were the hands which once again glowed in that unusual baby blue hue, "eternal enemies that need one another to survive," he further analyzed, watching as the lonely ground bound Sondeerian clasping at the air just hoping to take a peck at the antagonizing flying monstrosity.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Iota snarled back, flexing his fingers and lighting up again in the green glow in preparation of making his presence felt. No ample time was given however as the ever eager Nightwing brandished a small angular blue centred batarang from his electronic sleeve pocket which propelled at a blistering speed upward almost instantaneously smashing against the Sonnerian's side resulting in its withering of pain when the sharp edge cut through its layer of skin. It dove upward to the top of the cave to avoid the further assault but such actions proved futile to Nightwing whom continued motion to battle ready stance.

"Am I the only thing fighting this?" Nightwing authoritatively commanded in a questioning format to his colleagues, his prior loving teammates. He planted his right foot forward and aimed his right hand up at the flying beast while using his left hand to steady his rapid shots which greatly recoiled with every successive round.

"No you're not!" Iota rose up, fist forward and level with his shoulders. Like a rocket he shot forward towards the purple Sondeerian, grabbing hold of his thick snake like neck and crashing it into the cave wall nearby. Nightwing quickly crossed the floor where the Sondeerian once stood and made quick point blank shots at the Sonnerian whom appeared to be preparing for a downward spiralling attack upon the young teen hero. Slobo even clamped his palms together in preparation for making his entry into the evolving conflict; however while this was all going on, Interval was steady in his stationary standing, thinking with random intervals of an open palm slap to the right corner of his forehead.

"I need a bigger head," he whispered to himself, every hit against his head taken with the hope that the feelings of hate and anger would subside, "Nightwing's problem earlier..." he rose his back up straight and stared blankly into space, "ten percent chance, the enemies with an unapproachable percentage..." He watched and analyzed the battle taking place in front of him, Iota yelling some unmentionable words at Slobo who brought a fist up to conflict the lower jaw of the Sondeerian bug. "No one wants to end up dead...and yet that's what they'll end up doing if they're all fighting each other," his fingers rose to his stomach level and began twiddling, "but there is a solution, we're much smaller and can't compete with them..." his eyes refocused, an epiphany evidently grasping his mind, "we take ourselves out of the competition."

"Just quiet down and let's take care of these things!" Nightwing commanded breaking up the developing argument between Slobo and Iota, "we got to push them back to the trophy room where Steel can seal off the rift!"

"Iota," Interval called out catching the young lanterns attention, "Nightwing's problem, do you understand the solution?"

"I don't have time for his trivial games," Iota retorted loudly and sharply, stammering his foot into the ground, "don't you see we're in the middle of a war right now?"

"No, no," Interval nodded his head, "we're not in anything..." he took several shallow breaths, "I've worked it out," he looked across to Nightwing who had been taken his fight to the Sonnerian with a few good jabs to its lower abdomen as it continued to reach for the sky but prevented from doing so by the attachment of a black cord that covered its right shoulder and tethered down to Nightwing's lowered left hand, "the solution to your problem?" Nightwing looked over his shoulder, "there's no way that you can take on the seventy and ninety percent players in the game, so what do you do with your single bullet?" he nodded his head in affirmation. Nightwing dropped the cord allowing the creature to fly away. He straightened up his body and looked straight at Interval with relaxed shoulders. Suddenly, he rose up his right hand forming the universal symbol of a hand gun, two fingers jutting out, the last two clutched to the palm and the thumb riding overhead. He rose this up and aimed it randomly in the air, way above his head and with a chuckle cocked his thumb down to his palm, "you take yourself out of the competition," Interval continued with his rapid deduction, "you'll no longer been seen as a threat and the other two will then fight each other..." he nodded with a positive charge and was met with a likewise affirmative nod from Nightwing. He then rose his chin and sat down, "everyone do nothing..."

"What is he blabbering about?" Iota continued in his anger tones as he punched away at the Sonnerian chest as they flew along a circular formation of the dome.

"Slobo," Nightwing spoke much more calmly now under heavy breaths of relief, "whatever you do, don't try to fight," he said as he, like that of Interval, took to sitting down on the ground focusing his energies on meditation to relieve himself of the violent afflictions that had overtaken him.

Slobo clenched his teeth and attempted to stay solid in his stance at the centre of the cave floor but he could not bring an end to his chattering legs which pulsed rapidly resulting in a loud tapping which caused a minor annoyance in his new colleagues. Reaching the boiling point and spattering off wisps of air between his teeth, he suddenly dropped to the cave floor, cross legged and just sat there with anger boiling in over his eyes which turned to black when the eye lids closed.

Iota pressed his hands against the cave wall and dove backwards into the air away from the Sonnerian which clawed against the wall in attempt to get closer to him. He hovered across the centre floor catching instant glimpses from the seated Nightwing and Slobo below till he came to a stop above the circular wooden table top. Like his teammates, he took in a deep breath and held it as he crossed his legs and hands over his body and used the power of the ring to lower himself down to the solid top where he could sit more comfortably.

"You need to clear your thoughts of violence," Interval called out, "we're just feeding them now and they're getting more and more powerful the more we fight each other and them." Interval closed his eyes and attempted to regulate himself, to slow down his aching heart rate and reach a state of bliss. Iota followed suit along with Slobo and Nightwing, the latter of whom having already found a peaceful state with in his mind. Though a simple task of the most simple minds, the four young men faced a terribly uphill battle with themselves; Nightwing more angry than ever at the speedster for providing commands, Iota upset that it was Nightwing's little riddle that had brought them to this conclusion and Interval somewhat crying over the fact that little serious attention is being given to the teamwork they so desperately needed to survive. Slobo started to hum a strange foreign tune, bringing him down to a state of human ignorance that he was never, and would never be again.

Though strange and unconventional their solution was in fact working. The Sonnerian, so content with the strength of mental violence in the room was beginning to lose its source of strength, the glowing blue energy around his hand steadily began to fade and wane as the muscles that it had acquired began to return to the sullen states that existed before it. It's last dive to the cold ground proved to a be an undesirable strategic move when the Sondeerian jumped out of it with claws wide open embracing it and scarring its sides with strengthening tears at the flesh. The boys listened to the noise of alien flesh being pierced and bones structures being destabilized and broken, the eternal battle for survival was taking place and without a source of strength from the surrounding environment, there could only be one winner to the current fight at hand.

Nightwing squinted one eye open and looked around sharply, turning his head to take a look at the serene scene that had resulted around him; his friends sitting in their trances leading to a light chuckling that reverberated from the bottom of his stomach, "I think its all over," he rose up and padded down his uniform still finding some of the slime that had decorated it, "though funnily," he scratched his lower back and exercised it as it would follow, "I still like beating the snot out of lite-brite," Iota rose from the table top and let out a disgruntled sigh.

"Is it alive?" Interval stepped slowly across the floor looking over top of Nightwing's shoulder prompting the bat-boy to turn around and face the happenings behind him. Crumpled on the ground were the gangling limbs of the Sonnerian, its wings having shrunken to caved in cusps on its back which faced up, face firmly against the ground. Leaning up against it was the more recently born Sondeerian, slumping up against the Sonnerian's side, its orange eyes somewhat open but still shallow at best.

Slobo knelt down to the beast and looked up to its eyes, "I think its going to pull through," he started. Taking a deep gulp, he looked up to the three teen heroes that had come to surround him, "I think its mental capacity is at least out of commission."

"Good thing too," Interval commented, "The city was tearing itself apart."

"Quite a nifty think through there," Iota placed his hand on Interval's shoulder with a smirk.

"It was quite simple really once you understand the mechanics," Interval commented, "by shooting your one bullet in the air you admit to the other two that your no longer a threat," he hunched a brown and crossed visions with Iota, "the other two will most certainly beat on one another. If all things go well then the two will take themselves out and you'll survive. You've won."

"Its like Batman's always been trying to tell me," Nightwing started up, "when you've got a fight on your hands between more than three factions, look for a strategy which pits the other two against one another, then quickly mop up what remains of the winner."

"I had no idea these creatures were so opposed to one another," Slobo commented looking up to them, one of his hands rubbing along the snake neck of the Sondeerian, "this one here was just born no longer than ten minutes ago."

"Their collective must have some sort of pact going on between the two species," Interval continued in his conclusion, "The flying one there needs the crawler to create the anger and hate for it to be able to absorb its energy and the crawler probably takes the corpses that it leaves behind...its quite the fascinating relationship, especially if all of them really don't like each other, I wonder how it all works."

"Don't think it really matters," Slobo sighed, "last I remember, both these packs were enslaved by a group of scavengers that were immune to their physic abilities, heck some say the bastiches created these species for experiments...they just make wars between good people now...all to make profit from suffering."

"That's why I'm sticking to good ol' terra firma." Iota said boastfully.

"We got to send it back," Nightwing interjected with a serious tone, "there was some sort of dimensional rift that cracked open in the trophy room..." he took a gulp, glancing away from the three other boys in his immediate presence, "Steel can seal it off with his hand cannons."

* * *

"That's extraordinary," Interval stated with excitement on his lips. The rift, the red omega lightning bolt plastered on the wall was quickly resending, breaking down to reveal the cave wall behind it. The four boys watched in anticipation for this adventure to finally wrap up. Steel stood close by, restored to his feet and aiming his energy, "I'll have to check your specs Steel, see where the tech for your energy beams come from."

"That may be quite necessary," Steel coldly responded, "I am having difficulty processing my beams for an extended period of use...my prototype technology is not of adequate specs in consideration for the expansions that I have already applied to them."

"Really?" Interval smiled, "what have you been working on?"

"Ethics," Steel responded swiftly. He dropped his hand; the rift having fully disappeared under his power.

"Guys," Nightwing hunched his shoulders. The closest to the wall, he lowered his head and pulled his hands into clumps at the sides of his body, "I really don't know what happened to me there, and I hate to write it off as just another unexplained origin...but I don't know if-"

"Shut up," Iota chimed in breaking Nightwing mode of concentration, "fine, we get it, something happened that you can't explain and while you did bring upon a minor threat to the place we call home, you also brought a new friend here out of his imprisonment."

"Yeah," Slobo spoke up with his gruff voice, "not a second went by that I didn't desire some tasty free," he shook his head with a tooth filled smile, "I got a second lease on life here...I may not be a rough and edgy as my namesake, but I'm willing to make the most of it now, you know?"

"When the time comes," Iota continued, "if you want to talk about with us you can, but you don't need to keep up your secret walls for our benefit...we get it," he nodded gaining some relative acceptance from Nightwing.

"Slobo," Interval pulled the conversation his way, "You were part of the original team that used to work out of here right?" he looked at the strange alien boy with his inquisitive eyes, "I pulled up some documents of the former teams that used to hang around here, 'Young Justice'...your name was mentioned."

Slobo licked his bottom lip and nodded enthusiastically, "never worked out of this cave though...that's new," he glanced briefly at the three boys before noticing a familiar shape on the floor, "bird-boy," he picked up one of the heads of the demolished sculptors, the one with the free roaming short hair and the domino mask. He look at all the facets, reminiscing of a past life time, "I had been trapped for so long, never thought I'd ever admit to missing any of them," he looked up, "you know you guys kind of remind me of them, your all very tight."

"What are you going to do now?" Nightwing questioned.

"I don't know," he blinked, keeping his eyes shut for a few seconds before reentering, "guess I've missed quite a few years haven't I, these guys can't possibly still be together if your all around," he dropped the sculpted head, a thud to the ground near his feet, "plenty of places to explore now with this new lease, really feel like a new person...had all those years to think about breaking free of Lobo's shadow."

"Excellent," Interval commented.

"Well, you'll always have a place here with us if you need it," Nightwing offered out.

"Awesome," Slobo took steps towards the exit way, "I might have to take you on that offer when the time comes...take care of yourselves."

"So we lived long enough to learn some lessons," Nightwing pulled his hands to his waist, "anyone got anything they'd like to share, any lessons of interest?" Interval, Iota and Steel shook their heads as they followed up on Slobo, heading towards the door leaving Nightwing to contemplate the lessons of the day on his own, "Kitty," he spoke softly as he tilted his head to his left side.


	18. Interval 5

Interval #5  
Volume 1. Story 4.  
The Nightstar

* * *

"I've heard that noise before," Interval, the latest scarlet speedster in a long line of people who dare call themselves the Flash, darted along the streets of Central City, splashing through puddles and passing through swamp like atmospheres; a meltdown in the subsequent aftermath of a previous adventure. "But where?" he whispered softly to himself once more, concern within his eyes as his feet grew numb at the speed he travelled. Taking to the scarlet coloured boots, wrist clenching gloves, cowl and chest piece which proudly displayed the lightning yellow logo of the flash, this boy was more than ready for whatever kind of conflict was presented towards him whether physically or other.

It was the twilight of the evening, a clean slate of navy layered the sky ceiling. Stars were forced to stand at a minimum and even when visible they were still most occluded by the loose layer of fog formed by the massive waves of precipitation that followed a previous adventure (_see Interval #3_). The moon light was given into a similar state of disarray but its absolute glow through was not to be underestimated; the brightness of which still gave an ample visible sheen to the speedster's path. Cars of various makes and models hovered along the black tar streets, speed their friends but not fast enough to be on par with Interval whom darted through and around them at an infinitely higher pace that turned them into blocks, stones that grated the floor at a snail's pace. Along one of the major roads he continued on his journey, the dim lit steel built structures blurred into single horizons despite their variable height. The waist high concrete barrier separating the streets from the wide sidewalks became his guiding line, jumping slightly in stride his feet made contact with the barriers meagre top, sliding across its smooth surface splashing small waves of moisture for nary a second as the propulsion of his speed carried him over where his act of speed continued along the more coarse grained sidewalks.

Though not thinking at a speed he was travelling would most certainly prove to play a disastrous effect upon whatever he ran into, Interval could not help but to think of this strange sound that coursed through his eardrums, that quick pop of explosive energy that panned out into a loud hum of electrical current; something phenomenal in the sense that he instantly recognized it as not being natural component of this world, at least not in this time. Two shots were fired, that of much he was certain off, all the way across the city in the lukewarm industrial district where the old train tracks and their abandoned cargo loads sat undisturbed. It was not difficult to see what was occurring in the back corner of the city even from a distance; police lights, no doubt high powered spot lights, showered the skies in force while sometimes glancing down upon the building the ground troops had surrounded.

Interval came to a sliding stop upon the small rock ridden ground floor of the industrial hole, splattering them into the air exposing the mush of the wet dirt underneath. He took a deep breath as he readjusted himself to a more proper solid stance in a not too far position from which he analyzed the situation that had clobbered together in front of him. A score of Central City's finest, numbering in the two dozen, either walked or stood at arms around a classic structural achievement of an older era, the brick and mortar built building that threw back ideas to the early turn of the of twentieth century. Its outer walls were composed of small bricks that became all the more evidently red when the search lights fell upon them; however, from a quick glance of the building, it was most difficult to determine the real colour, appearing mostly blue in light of the sky that hung above it. Tall, narrow windows stretched vertically reaching two stories in length but only holding about two feet in width; they were old fashion in the sense that the upper portion was capped off with a circular top along with a black square overlay, the kind that divided the window in half vertically and saw horizontal bars across at every one foot interval. The windows numbered a near twenty along the side that faced towards him making for quite the symmetry in its rectangular orientation. His eyes followed down from the wall to the ground where he saw the building to be raised up by quite a high concrete plateau with steps leading up to the simple dual doors that broke the windows in half at the centre of the building. Since the old train tracks ran alongside the building and that the sides of the building appeared to have slanted planes on both sides, the young speedster deduced that this building was once a shipping and storage centre that was perhaps quite accessible back in its day but its purpose in this day had long since been abandoned, now it was just a part of the horizon of aged buildings in the darkened regions of the city where crime fluctuated on a whim.

Interval hastily took to dashing around the abounded train carts that stockpiled the surrounding area of the building, careful not to disturb the rocky ground to severely as to draw attention to himself. He cowered behind two carts stack on top of one another, popping his head around the corner edge where he found himself on the line with the officers at hand surrounding the building. Two police vehicles were stationed on the ground; large search lights had been attached to the front end block and were gradually circling the building with its radiance. All of the officers held to a standard uniform, full black body suits that lead into cowl on their heads leaving only their faces exposed with the only subtraction to this being white jackets that at the front and back cut off at the waist with a belt but the sides continued like tails down their thighs. Emblazoned on their chest, the right side, was a circular red logo with the black straight edge text 'CCPD'. They were quite well armed, both hands being necessary to carry the large tubular gun; however, Interval recognized that it would only take him a few seconds to disarm them all but refrained from doing so. He pulled his head back and slammed up against the side of the crate, thinking through this current case he had tapped upon. He was supposed to work within the law; to be an extension of the law as his forefather's had been saviours of the city...it was an aspect that he was not too particularly comfortable with.

The sound arrived at the base of his eardrums once more, the pop and long withdrawn hum of boiling energy that he was so familiar with yet couldn't quite figure where exactly his memory collided with it. He turned his head once more beyond the cart's side and looked up at the building; it became plainly evident upon inspection that hole had been ripped from its classical design; decayed bricks slipping away from a massive crater like hole that had formed within. Judging from the caved out design of the hole composed, Interval let his mind's eye lower in towards the mark that the obvious beam of energy had formed; one of the four spot lights used had been crush, the front of the police vehicle having been compacted inward on itself and collapsed against the ground. The twisting white painted metal, the scorched sidings that melted the police logo forced the speedster to make a rash and unfortunate conclusion of what he was dealing with; it was most definitely something outside this world's comprehensive abilities.

Interval threw himself into a blistering speed instantaneously taking away what motion existed in the officers as he blew right by them in his way to the centre entrance way. Up the small steps and slipping through the doors unnoticed and unrecognized by the officers and their weapons aimed upon the doors. Upon entry, he side stepped to his left holding his body up against the walling between two windows, some light flourishing through them of course but he still managed to hold onto his secret arrival in the shadows. The entire building was a single room with the only notable appearance being the evenly spaced metal pillars that reached upward the full two stories in accordance with the windows and were bolted into the ground and the floor ceiling above with several large bolts. The shadows of the pillars shot out straight across the linoleum floor escalading a variety of shadows in all assortments and directions; just enough was the light though to reveal the stairwell at the left side which spiralled upward to the next floor. With a quick glance in that direction, he had already made his quick dash to it tapping loudly along the metal steps in its twisting fashion till he made it to the next floor up where not to surprisingly, the design scheme was very much the same save for one inclusion of another body not of his own.

A shocked moan echoed through the harmonics of the building, the source of which came from a man in mid-twenties, a shady figure that felts his thick grey coat become tight on his backside when the snappy speedster clawed at the its sides and carried him away. Within seconds, the man was baffled to find himself dangling on the edge of the building side opposing the police build up, below being some carts and stacked metal railway bands that had either been ripped up from the track or never quite used; a serious hurt or death if he was dropped. He was clean shaven, a grey thick band circular hat covering the top of his head preventing any hair from reaching his forehead. His eye brows were a busy black however, but this was of little concern in consideration of how wide spread his eyes had become and how far his mouth reached down; the fear had taken him over. Interval dropped his hands from lapel resulting in the poor man's scream which instantly snapped away upon his hand returning to man's dark shirt which stretched out its full elastic strength, "where did you get this weaponry?" Interval scowled, letting the man lowered further so that the entirety of his disgruntled face would appear above his.

"What?" the man's cry slipped away from him.

Interval chopped his feet in harder against the meagre railing around the rooftop and dropped the man down to one hand; he proceeded to pull from the ground next to him a long and sleek grey weapon. The shape of the weapon on its side was rectangular in shape, the opening at the front maintaining that shape, however, further along the back of the gun showed a circular ball shaped just above the trigger set up at the bottom, a slot on top that could be slid open at any conveniences such as now. He looked inside then sharply back down to the criminal he held by a thread, "I know this wasn't your creation," he continued in his low monotone growl, "where did you get it from."

"It's all mine," the voice of the man returned with a spit, "man I'm going to have it if my name-"

"Your just a low level thug," Interval pulled the man back up from his slanted state, "do you think I care what your name is? Give me the answers now! Where did you get this weaponry from?" his voice continued to grow in volume shattering the man's confidence.

"Why would I want to tell you anything," the criminal spat back, blood becoming evident in the squirt of saliva that existed splashing on the roof top nearby, "you can't kill me man."

"No I won't," Interval commented sternly, "The gun already has," he examined the man's face, its pale blood shot appearance but of the most noted features were the eyes where the white portions surrounded his dark pupils had become a stale yellow, "you've been exposed to heavy amounts of radiation, the gun casing was strong enough to block it…how long have you had it?" The man looked back at him with clenched teeth, "don't tell me don't feel it…your organs shutting done, your gut ready to burst?"

"Three days man," the criminal responded through sobs.

"Tell me how you got it," Interval continued in his demanding tone, "and I might be able to help you."

"It was a fire sale alright?" The man shouted in response and though the answer would seem to suffice, Interval dropped him once more, letting the man go free before picking him back up again at his speed, "I was a hired gun with my gang, they gave us some tricked out weapons for the gig!"

"Who?"

"I don't know," the man responded with ferocity, "I'm the low level guy, get it? I only worked through my superiors...they don't tell me-"

"What was the task you were given," Interval's mouth clenched up as he further leaned upon the man pressing him awkwardly at an angle against the roof top ledge.

"I'm a local man here," the criminal quickly obliged, "called in to kidnap some super powered chick from New Bludhaven," he coughed out, "says we needed to the weapons to do it...we got her good."

"Why do you have it now...?" Interval's voice dropped.

"Bosses wanted me to give it back," he smiled in his response, tears waiting to scrawl out from his eyes, "I ain't going to pass up on this much power, think of what I can do with this thing."

"Oh, I know," Interval nodded and smiled in a similar gesture, "but this weapon has far to many flaws…your bosses don't like being double crossed," he slurred in his final words when he suddenly let go of the man allowing gravity to pull the frail individual to the ground. Interval hopped to the side of the building and ran down alongside him, "you'll be dead within the next few hours, so let's say I do you a favour as promised... remember to focus on the pain of your legs shattering," he clawed once more at the man's side grabbing hold of the man's shoulders at around the second floor dividing line, coming somewhat to an abrupt stop where he felt safe but it was only within one second of bliss that the fall was enabled to continue. Bones and muscles twisted and contorted as the man's body smashed up against the rail bars that stacked up on one another. The man coughed up blood as he attempted to sit up from the wreckage his body had formed; bones must have been crushed, muscles felt strained and weak, could this be the final take on his life. Senses pulling back together, there was only one thing that concerned him now but Interval was long gone.

* * *

"Well I'm sure you can understand where I'm coming from?" A business like man tapped the soles of his high end shoes against the white linoleum ground of the front room inside the XS laboratory, the working ground for the Flash family. He was quite a slim gentleman in a sleek black suit save for the thick collard whites shirt which held his tie squared. A straight jaw, wide angled cheeks, bushy eyebrows that worked well along the lines of his smooth jet black hair. With a genial smile that accentuated his clean lips, he was quite the good looking specimen of mankind despite his menial job.

"We understand completely Robert," Iris broke in, "but Velocity-9 has never been stable for long periods of use."

"And those who have," Jai chimed in, nudging around Iris shoulder to become the forefront of the conversation, "often turn out to be more psychopathic than anything else." The front of the XS laboratory was a long rectangular shape at the front of the building. At the centre of the long wall facing outside, the immediate area upon entering was a cage of glass that reached up towards the ceiling two floors above. Directly opposing this on the close inside wall was a square pillar that likewise went up towards the ceiling but was completely solid and rode into the wall; two Plexiglas doors were at its bottom, fogged thereby reducing visual effects of what existed inside. As this was, the cage and the pillar divided the room into two squares on either side where it appeared that preliminary experiments and activities were undertaken. The stomach high desk crunched along the walls all away around the room breaking off only at the cage and pillar at the centre; just above the decently wide desks were monitor screens, blanked at the moment, as well as a variety of tools and pin pads that either laid or were built into the desks surface.

"My superiors are under the belief that you may have had some more or less stable samples in the past," Robert's voice lowered, his smile dropping returning to a squinted concern, "are we wrong in assuming so?" The three persons within the room stood in a loose triangular formation with the most notable character being that of the intimidating Jai in basic casual blue jacket clothing. His sister, standing slightly behind him, on the other hand was dressed down in a more business style arrangement like that of Robert; however, she took to wearing her leather like jacket, a fashion more pronounced in popularity back in the nineties but now served as her signature look.

"There have been cases over the years…" Iris started to nod, her free roaming red hair flaring behind her back with every movement, "where our family has determined it necessary to use the formula when connection to the Speed Force had been severed…but all other people who have gathered the formula, including the professor who created it, have used it for more nefarious reasons… we know what it does to people."

"I can assure you," Robert dropped the façade, falling gracefully to a more friendly attitude that he was comfortable with, "we don't have plans to use it for any military projects…" he glanced to both Jai and Iris with his sympathetic brown eyes, "it's purely for medical reasons…just imagine what lives we can save with a formula that induces super speed."

"We know," Iris swallowed, "but my father Wally refused to cave into the demands of the government before…" she continued to shake her head lightly from side to side and added on the pressing her heavy top lip against her lower, "and at this time I don't think we're just about ready to go back on him…regardless of the cost."

"We've heard all the arguments before," Jai stepped in to continue their defence, "but these people have no idea what kind of power their dealing with."

"Ah," Robert opened his mouth wide and raised his index finger in delight, "word is they've got some young savant spearheading the project…" he coughed slightly, "least that's what I've been tearing from their files…."

"And we thank you for doing that for us," Iris commended.

"Well, it could get me into prison," Robert kept his hand raise, playing his index finger against the flat turn of his thumb while he looked away to the floor.

"And this guy they've got now," Jai reasserted himself, drawing the conversation to a much more serious tone, "does he know anything about Speed Force mechanics? Because I'm telling you we get a lot of people who tell us they do and we know right off the bat that they have no idea because sometimes I swear that even we don't know."

"Well, I've been told he knows a lot more than you two might be inclined to believe," Robert responded with some uncertainty, pressing his hands into his jacket pockets; fists bulging through the sides.

"Then we should meet with him," Iris turned to eye her brother, affirming their position on the current revelation.

"I'm not even supposed to know about him," Robert swiftly replied, "how do you think I'm going to be able to pull that kind of meeting off without getting the FBI tailing me?"

"How can we just hand of Velocity 9 to some random person who may or may not know more about the Speed Force than us?" Jai questioned with a strong tone, hands shooting firmly to his waist sides as he glared over at Robert making the man uneasy.

The muster of the question was soon lost however when a flurry of wind, the results of a speedy entity brushing by them, disrupted their forms of thought. Robert turned abruptly, hands pulled free from their bindings, and was startled to see that of the young Interval was hunched over the centre of the side wall desk tinkering with a strange long silver item, "so this is the new boy I've heard about?" he turned back to Jai and Iris with a wink, "Robert Atman," he raised a hand, a polite gesture to shake, and ventured closer to the boy, "official liaison for The Flash to the Government…"he leaned down slightly, waving his hand gently in the peripheral sight of vision of the young speedster but it became quickly obvious that no acknowledgement was going to be taken. He rose up and smiled awkwardly at Jai and Iris whom likewise stood less than amused, "are you not concerned for your identity?"

"Identity? Yes," Interval responded in haste, "Secret? Could care less." Interval's steady hands set to work upon the weapon, dismembering it components at a high velocity, metal flying from the sides seemingly suspended in the air but almost as soon as it seemed to come a knocking upon Robert's body, the silver sheen components dropped sharply to the desk top, several pieces of various lengths and metallic ordinance all neatly placed next to one another to Interval's side. His swift movements came to a halt following a deep breath, his hands panned out along against the surface of the table, spreading out from his square shoulder space. He lowered his head down to look upon the orb portion that sat on top of the weapon, its mesmerizing obtrusion on a rather simply composed gun, "Judging from the lack of armaments of my colleagues and the way in which your present yourself, it would be most safe to reason that you are aware of any secrets we may hold…" he rose his head back up and pulled his chin up to his shoulder to take a look at the three others in the lab, "we work out of a store front building…anyone within must have some knowledge of what we do here or they'd be too frightened of boredom to venture in," he turned back down to his acquired task. The desk top itself was made of a white glass like plastic which became more so obvious when a square portion of it lite up from a source underneath encapsulating the bulb of the gun that placed there. He worked his left hand into the nearby indented keypad and watched the monitor screen overhead for the information he hoped to achieve by this scan.

"Jace," Iris spoke up, tilting her head lightly to the side hoping to catch a glimpse of just what exactly he was working on, "what are you working on…."

"Heard something," Jace flipped around from the table and pulled down his scarlet cowl to reveal his defined features consisting of short blond hair and blue eyes which appeared at all times somewhat cheery even if his scowling lips didn't convey as much, "something that didn't belong in this world, at least not in this time," he turned around back to weapon top and nimbly placed his fingers around its circular shape.

"Well, what is it?" Jai scoffed as he stepped up closer to get a look for himself.

"The earth title for it," Jace turned around to face them once more only this time pulling up in his right hand a small dim green ball which he held in an open palm, "UU-2" he glanced his eyes over to Jai and Iris, locking eyes for an incremental moment.

"Earth title? Jai paused in his steps to question.

"Yes," Jace commented, pulling his left hand up to cup his chin. He stared at the ball intently, "this one in particular is very well refined, it's quite a rare commodity even in my time," he appeared to marvel the mineral.

"Your time?" Robert intruded, one of his bushy eyebrows raised, "haven't had one of those since…" he hummed a little, "Bart?" he looked to Iris and Jai but they were transfixed on the gem of a ball.

"What does it do?" Jai further prodded for answers.

"It's a compounded mineral that recycles its own radiation," Interval continued in his informative voice, willing to fully oblige to the tone of questioning, "it's quite powerful. It was used on a lot of planets outside of this solar system, some power plants where even produced on Petrus, three of which were still running when I left."

"And from a different planet outside our solar system," Robert nodded his head with a gulp, his hands safely returning to his jacket pockets in clumps, "we have not had one of those."

"It's basically a self-replicating power source, practically an infinite source of energy," Jace continued, "but this is such a small amount, only really good enough to power the weapon I found it in."

"The power of the sun," Robert started as he leaned his head down to take a better look at the ball, "in the palm of your hand," he looked across to Iris, "we could really work with something like that."

"I would advise you not to get to close," Jace scowled at the man, "the person that I got it from is probably by now."

"Jace?" Iris spoke up with concern catching his attention.

"He was a low level criminal," Jace maintained a monotone, "he had little knowledge of its origin and functional capabilities; he was of no concern," he defended himself but once more saw within Iris's eyes some strange concern that caused him to rethink his stance, "I…" he stuttered at first, "the UU-2 radiation is quite harmful to living organisms. The weapon casing was not sufficient enough in blocking the radiation, a likely reasoning being that the materials used in the gun were earthly in formation. He had been exposed to it for three days and suffered complete renal failure…there was nothing I could have done for him," he shook his head with dissatisfaction.

Robert shot out a noise of disgust and despair, venturing backwards stepping over himself. Jai likewise felt the necessity to back up somewhat, "then why are you holding on to it?" he questioned with sore voice, "why did you bring it here?" he further prodded seemingly now questioning himself.

"Iris and I should have a sufficient metabolism to prevent it's full on effects for extended periods of time," Jace mentioned. He turned around back to the desk and placed the ball on top of the glowing square removing the former casing with his other hand, "the scanner in the basement complex isn't strong enough to pierce this compound. It's very unique kind of radiation, shouldn't be difficult to find other sources of it on the planet with the leagues satellite searching for it."

"You mean there's more of it?" Iris questioned.

"Most likely," Jace confirmed, "that criminal was incapable of such perfect refining…there has be something…somewhere or someone that it came from," Jace slipped his hand in the keypad once more and pulled up a map of the continent on the monitor screen above. Robert had evidently slipped around him and was proceeding to back away along with Jai towards the other half of the room. "There it is," he stated, no enthusiasm to his declaration, "South Minnesota…" his voice trailed off softly. He pulled away from the desk, "it's quite a large hot bed of activity."

"No, but there's another smaller icon," Iris pointed to the screen towards the eastern seaboard displayed, "is that New Bludhaven? Why would it be there?"

"It's quite faint," Interval explained, "and that's where the criminal used his weapon…it's probably just a colleague of his who also held onto the weapon like he did."

"Why was he in New Bludhaven?" Iris interrupted.

"Some kind of task, ordered to kidnap some girl there," Jace coldly stated, "I take it from him that his team succeeded. They were supposed to give back their weapons when they gave into their greed for power, they kept holding on to them…foolish. He'll probably dead soon if not already. I'll go collect it once I've finished investigating the major source."

"You? alone?" Iris somewhat scoffed, "don't you care at all about some person having been kidnapped let alone dying?"

"I assure you" Jace started up sharply turning right around to greet Iris openly, "if this compound is becoming wide spread, it is certainly much more dangerous to the world at large and should be our primary focus over the kidnapping of one girl. We might just be dealing with arms dealers here who have managed to get their hands on alien technology in which case they have no idea what they're doing with it or what it's doing to them."

"I can monitor from home," Jai commented of himself, "Iris, you've probably got some other work to be getting on with…Jace and I can handle this and if the missing girl comes up, I'm certain we'll investigate it."

"Very well," Jace stated. He stared deeply into Iris's bright green eyes and nodded in a positive manner assuring between the two that if and when the possibility arose for him to do some good, he would pursue it accordingly but then things sharply changed.

"No," Iris sternly spoke, "he may just be a criminal," she looked away from Jace, "this perp may just be a criminal, but we just don't knowingly let them die for their actions no matter how stupid…if I can get to him fast enough maybe I can work an angle on finding this girl."

"Well then you better move quick," Jace commented quickly, "I doubt he has much time left."

* * *

"I'm here."

The long grass blades bent down to its moist dirt source under the treading strength of Interval's boots. He had come across a lightly hill plotted region of the coarse land which had along with it sporadic formations of cliffs however its rocky formation was not much higher than his total body height. He pressed his hand against the edge of one such minor cliff arrangements and slid his feet along the surface scratching some chunks of the displaced dirt over the ledge. He came to an abrupt stop there and looked over the ledge at the surface exposure below. Dropping to a knee, the young speedster analyzed and deduced some irregularities in the field of grass below, "there's some sort of squared off section," he stated establishing his link to the home base.

"What do you mean?" Jai responded, the communication evidently being present.

"The grass," Interval raised up straight suddenly and proceeded into a small hop from the ledge down the short cliff fall to be greeted with the most unusual of landing sounds. Some sort of heavy plate, a solid item, bounced under his feet echoing a heavy hum that continued until he regained his stance enabling him to walk around, "it's much too short and doesn't match the colour of the surround grass either," he raised up his hand revealing a pack of grass blades in an open palm, his eyes transfixed upon them, "they're fake."

The darkened skies that hung overhead were not much different from the experiences that transposed themselves on city line of Central City and though out of habit, Interval counted the viewed spherical stars as being nearly two thirds as more as the ones viewable at home. As such with the source of lights, the long shin high grass fields that he had entered appeared purged of their usual green hue which had been supplanted with a tinge of blue. All around him the fields continued for some miles with the minor hills and cliff breakages being the only break from the plain where trees of various strengths and shrubbery in the multitude planted themselves within the crevices and in bulk to his eastern and southern sides. In the far off north where his gaze had proceeded to pull himself, he saw there in the distance a quaint town like structure that despite being in such a remote area appeared to be at least modern in all senses comparable to all of the national commons; it was unlikely though that they would see activities that take place out here regardless of what clarity in the atmosphere exists.

"It's quite seamless," Interval commented with a nod to himself. After stepping around the rough square outlay of the strange grass he came to a stop at the middle and kicked his heels one at a time into the surface at a normal pace, "I might have to vibrate through," he continued with a rough growl.

"That seems drastic," Jai commented at a higher pitch that easily contrasted the young speedster's.

"Don't have time to make a more thorough decision," Interval coldly returned, "think there could be something more going on than just arms dealing…" he glanced around the region, turning a full circle in hopes of finding any more irregularities that may demote the need to take such an action, "let's just hope it's not that far a drop."

Interval jumped upwards a couple of inches in which he used the time on the decent to push his right leg forward to some extent and in a likewise fashion, threw his left foot behind his back as much as his joints would allow him. Time slowed down all around the speedster creating the feeling of his suspension in the air; it was in this moment that he once more decided to retract his legs rubbing them along each other as they switched positions, the right to the back and the left to the front. This process continued a multitude of times, successively faster and faster the legs twaddle in from the front and shooting behind his back, quicker and quicker till the soft blurring of his black leggings and scarlet boots seemingly turned into singular object with a jittering torso on top of it: his is body having now followed suit with the rapid movements of his legs. At a normal human's perception, the process of this movement was much quicker than what could be behold in the mind's eyes; for Interval however, this kind of act proved to very much be a difficult case in light of his own perception of time and the conscious movements that were required for every part of his body: the limbs, the organs, the vessel, right down to the cells for any mistake pulled in such an endeavour could lead to a permanent entombment in the object he was passing through.

Intervals head passed through the metal plate on the surface, his personal space of which he fell through left quite a hefty mark against the earthly top; the store bought soil and fake grass blade shattered from their comfortable sitting, forced to spill upon the surrounding regions in a unsightly mess. He looked upon the internal structure of the metal, its solid grey surface breaking the vision down in his eyes to sturdy darkness; it was at less than thick, no more so than an inch…not anywhere ideal for a protective shield leading to the conclusive argument that the silver sheen plate was moved away quite regularly. His body crouched up tightly, the soles of his foot placing flat underneath and ready to embrace whatever object they might come up against. The fall was short lived as his feet hit something solid recoiling his body towards it like a spring, knees bent and head dropping. The returning sound of hard metal being jolted of its place reverberated in his ear once more.

"Where are you?" Jai questioned.

"It's some sort of hanger," Interval quickly responded. Raising his head he saw the glint of the silver plate he had just phased through. Though square its orientation, it appeared that it was an opening into a much larger structure that was quite a bit more rectangular in shape with the square being near to the centre if such a placement could ever be achieved. The lone source of lighting throughout the hanger were a series of thin flat blue lights that ran along the perimeter line holding up upon the wall and just touching the top. Interval turned around on his feet collecting as much information on the area in which he had become immersed in, "Whoever's been stockpiling UU-2 here is not from around…here," his voice slurred off. Looking down he immediately acknowledged that he was standing upon a large silver saucer of sorts, a flying saucer at the best he could describe since it was directly below the false earth floor above him requiring a vertical take-off point. He was evidently standing upon the possible control centre that being determined as it was a circular portion that was popped upward from the more major portions of the craft though still maintaining a relatively smooth like the silver coating like a blanket draped over it. In each corner, just outside the square plate above were four black pillars each extending from them a set of pinchers that crossed along the ships surface thereby keeping the craft in a state of balance. The aquatic hues of the walls burnt in the young speedster's eyes as he looked around them for any signs of a door. He finally came to a stop when he noticed the abstraction, a copper door that was slightly behind to the north. He crossed along the surface, tapping lightly against the saucer's surface, making his way towards the door to venture further into the complex.

Interval's head vibrated through the entrance way, crossing over to look briefly outside the door with hopes that his presence would not be noticed. The hallway was quite wide with the silver orientation following through from the hanger, having decked along the walls while the ground affirmed a strong solid white with the ceiling being just as so but more evidently brighter since it operated primarily as a light source. To his immediate left, the hallway ended on par with the end of the hanger with the only break away being another copper coated door some ways down on the opposing side. Just as soon as he analyzed this dead end, he was looking away to his right. The back wall was much closer; however, it seemingly curved around down another hallway which although made it difficult to grasp the entirety of this complex. He deduced conclusively that he would be the lone person within the hallway and proceeded to bring his entirety over to it.

With quick steps, Interval was soon down the closed off left side of the hallway where he soon found himself compelled to venture through the door to see what awaited him on the other side. As he had done with the door he had exited from, he vibrated his molecules to a heightened speed which allowed him to pass through with ease but upon reaching through to the other side he came to an abrupt stop, eyes wide and limbs surprisingly numb upon reforming to a solid state. He took in deep breaths clogging his cowl's microphone with static.

"What have you got?" Jai questioned in his calm voice.

"It's a morgue…" Interval's lips began tremble a little as he stepped forward into the room with soft steps awaiting the return of full circulation to his legs, "they're really running through the bodies."

"Who?"

"I don't know," Interval returned to his scowling demeanour. The room was adequately high and fit the standard tone set by the hanger room but with the fortunate lighting of the hallways giving to illumination, though with respect to what he was seeing, he wished that this was not the case. There were twelve body length tables as was necessary for the objects that lay upon them. There were four rows of three ahead of him, human cadavers upon each one of them with their feet aimed towards the young Speedster. These were once living people of various ages and backgrounds; however, despite the all too obvious differences that inflicted all individuals across humanity, these particular twelve subjects shared a particular common feature that greatly enticed Interval's interest, "all of them," he continued, "they've died from UU-2 exposure." He stood between the first two tables that sat immediately in front of the entrance way, he turned away from the one nearest to the wall to the one inward and immediately keyed in on the features that affirmed his statement.

This gentleman that graced this particular table could not have been more than thirty years of age; his skin still being quite smooth and lacking in wrinkles that was associated with age. His head was rather egg shaped which became more than just obvious in light of his hair having been shaved and his eye brows being next to pencil thin. Of most importance to the speedster was the colouration of the eyeballs that sat between the corpse's needle nose; the effects of a liver damage and subsequent failure had stained the white portions of the eyeball to a disgusting offset yellow that even coursed and dimmed the blue irises. The clothing was coarse, a thick material of many darkened shades that appeared synonymous with the underground collective of henchmen as it appeared to be a typical wear among all the other twelve bodies within the room thereby distilling whatever details might be attached to its significance.

"Help me think this through though," Jai shined through with a questioning statement, "do you think that whoever's behind this is experimenting on people with your strange element?"

"No," Interval sharply replied, "all these bodies…" he let out a heavy breath, "they appear to have once been quite able bodied," he rose his head up from the body he was investigating and looked further around the room, "men from low-income lifestyles judging by their choice of clothing. I'd say these guys were hired hands, probably given the same kind of UU-2 powered weapon I retrieved earlier."

"Didn't you say there was a kidnapping?" Jai hastily jumped to his own conclusions, "couldn't these be the guys involved."

"I'm sorry Jai," Interval slapped a hand to his face wincing his eyes and clenching his teeth tightly, "This girl might be related. But I can't see there being a reason why. The UU-2 I collected was really well refined Jai, I don't think humans are behind this," he shook his head in affirmation, anything to give him a positive grasp of the situation, "but I guess we couldn't rule out the possibility that perhaps humans somehow got the mineral and were trying to find some immunity to the radiation…maybe this girl has something to do about it, what have you find on that feed?"

"Yes," Jai sounded off in a moan, "got nearly a hundred hits on missing girls from New Bludhaven."

"Well you and Iris seemed to care so much," Interval responded with sharp sarcasm, "hopefully Iris has found something, until then there still is the issue of the UU-2 existing in bulk somewhere in this compound…and if it is humans, then they are certainly aware of the effects that the radiation has upon their physiology: nothing good can come from this," he looked towards the wall ahead of him acknowledging the existence of the hallway that turned away from the hanger on the other side. He panned his eyes along the wall and stopped when he noticed the copper doorway, "I'll keep investigating; keep me posted on whether Iris has found anything or if any of the kidnapped girls has any facts that relate to…" he hesitated, "arms dealing, aliens, or obscure energy products."

* * *

"This place is revolting," The Flash usually sweet voice took a dive to a matter of disgust, a comment made under her breath upon recognizing and acknowledging the horrors entrenched in New Bludhaven. Following the city's near destruction in the early years of this century, the government moved in to stabilize with the promise of a new world for the city's inhabitants filled with modern structures that were influenced by the old with a strong arm of the law that would support a thriving metropolis; however, no such commitment manifested and former inhabitants were instead treated to the same old policies and criminals that ruined the streets and forcibly evicted their friends and families before knocking on their own doors.

The Flash crossed through a narrow alley, the force of her speed creating a small hurricane of wind behind her which fluttered away the gruesome amounts of garbage that had cluttered to the sides of the high rise structures, forcing its grime into the cracks that the fake outer brick outlay amused. She continued through avoiding concern for whatever object she might displace or abandoned persons sleeping on the streets, not that they would be willing to conflict someone running by them at such a speed. She exited the loose frame of the alley and was quickly on the heels of a major road, taking across the wide sidewalk and followed by a long stride that lead in to a jump over the stomach high concrete barrier. The roads here were not much different from that of the modernized Central City, the thick black tar that comprised the road was an absolute solid while the lanes stretched out to eight, four going in either direction as separated by their white lines; but despite this ideal construction, New Bludhaven, unlike Central City, lacked any vehicles to traverse the open roads…surely no one was dumb enough to test the roads at a time like this.

The sky was drenched black with smog and the air smelt of spoiled eggs, but The Flash pressed onward following the directions displayed on the screen of her rectangular mobile; the bleeping energy stream of the radiation source she was looking for bouncing around on the map of the ruined cityscape moving so slightly. Her hand holding it kept itself straight under her authority while the rest of the body propelled itself to a blistering speed sheening off the muck and grime that spread out around her when she pounded through a much more deeper seeded alleyway on the other side of the major road, "might just have to let you go," she muttered coldly under her breath, "no way this is good for my lungs."

It was not long till The Flash had come to a larger apartment building complex on the other side of the alley, an outstretching building that clasped pretty tightly to the minor road reducing the sidewalks significantly by comparison to the ones on main. The building was an echo of what was once the original Bludhaven, adopting a look that was more conserved brick and mortar with old styled windows, rectangular shooting up vertically to close off with a semicircle, black lines running horizontally and vertically within giving off the feeling of a imprisonment; perhaps there was no real glass to the squared sections the bars formed. The bricks glowed a gentle blue but this was not a result of the improvement in atmospheric conditions in this particular area, rather the credit was given to the bricks themselves, fake parts of a plastic coat built to intake and exude the light that shined upon it which in this case was rather sullen.

The Flash bolted up to the building and glided through one of the windows on the first floor through the vibration of herself into a stream of molecules that allowed for an easy venture through solid objects; a trademark of hers since this ability was the first that had manifested in her as a child. She rose up the little hand held device, standing as she did upon the thin linoleum floor of a hallway where the walls were of a terribly classic interior decorating job which she assured herself that her brother Jai would have much difficulty dealing with. She marvelled at the image on the screen and shot her head up to the ceiling when she realized where it was indicating her to move. She raced down the hallway, jumping over the wooden crates that blocked her path and ignoring the stench that protruded from the rooms to her right side. She came to an abrupt stop at the end of the building where she found the stairwell leading up the four story complex which she proceeded to jump to with force. The stairway continued at a steep angle all the way up the complex with small platforms where doors stood on the right side revealing the change in movements from one floor to the next. She continued to press forward towards the top floor; upon reaching the meagre platform there, she rammed up tightly against its loose door breaking through to the other side where she was surprised to see that this floor was an exceptionally large room of itself where all the windows that were to the other three sides of the building were completely visible and shading away what light it could gather of the outside world upon the pale white floor which were stained by a multitude of male bodies, people of various ages and backgrounds but all of which held to a particular feature: they had crumbled to the floor, limp and lacking in any particular form of life… but they were not dead. The Flash's head rose up to catch a glimpse of the glowing pale green light in the distance, a figure that stood at the centre of a bundle of fallen foes.

She was a tall woman, well muscular to say the least but nonetheless the most womanly figure that the Flash had ever encountered. Her costume, for that was what it appeared to be, was composed primarily of a light purple but this was not saying much since it barely encapsulated the delightful curves of her body, the leggings only ran along the sides and backs of her legs only stretching across her frontal region in two separate inch thick bars, one at the thigh and another at her shins which otherwise left the whole front of her leg exposed. The same design had fallen taken to her arms only that the portions around her shoulders crossed over her collar bone and turned upward of her neck forming a small collar. The costume followed downward from there taking upon her chest but stretching down like a triangular piece towards swimsuit like bottoms thereby leaving much of her sides exposed to the open air. Highlights of silver ran throughout her body, primarily being the top of the collar and circling around her collar bone crossing over both shoulders. Her hands likewise were covered in silver bands that conformed to her muscular forearms all the way up to her elbows. Of the more intricate details was the appearance of two gems, green emeralds, one of which clung just underneath the collar and another directly below it at her waist. These gems modeled her sharp eyes that sat within a brazen soft orange face, a perfectly undisturbed hue of green lacking entirely of any irises. Her lips were luscious and her eyebrows quite small circular bands but of the most striking inclusions to her facial features was her strawberry blond hair, that deep red that glistened regardless of what lighting was available. It fluffed around her shoulders in large buxom curls and soared above her head tangling around her back side forming a drooping end that hung nearly between the back sides of her legs.

"Kory?" The Flash's voice seemed puzzled and distant; her eyes wide and jaw slightly ajar. She recognized the figure quite well, a friend of her fathers and close aunt like figure to her and her brother as they grew up but despite all of this background relation, she was still quite hesitant to call her upon her true name, the one that stroke the most fear: "Starfire?"

* * *

Interval vibrated his head out of the doorframe for just a moment, collecting data upon the hallway that existed outside. To his immediate left was a short distance down back towards the hanger where he had first started and to his right another dead end but this time much closer, a few steps off, where another turn was located aimed frontward. He proceeded to bring his entire body through the door in his phasing fashion upon acknowledgement of the emptiness the hall presented. He approached the entrance way into the new hallway at a slow pace, seeing the wall that ran downward on the far side. His head peaked around the corner but within a second of doing so violently brought it back and clenched his back side against the wall of the hallway he was still fully in; it wasn't a hallway on the other side but a room and it was currently occupied.

"We should be leaving now," a shrill voice of anger echoed throughout the wall way, displacing Interval's train of thought. He dropped down to his right knee, pivoting on it so that he could clench the side of the entrance frame and peak a little more around it to listen more thoroughly to the conversation taking place, "we have the Tamaranean-Human hybrid, we can continue the experiments back on the home world."

"You are much too impatient, Fullusc," a deep voice protruded with a calmness that quite easily conflicted that of the first voice, "if our preliminary experiments have shown us anything, it is that the girl may not quite ready for harvest."

"Then we should waited much longer," the shrill first voice returned, but absent from it the anger from earlier, "Pratrarch…we may have this world's league on our hands in due time when they notice that one of their precious children is missing," the voice rang with concern.

"Children?" Interval whispered. He closed his eyes lightly for a moment, "the kidnapping…it's related." He slowly opened his eyes and turned his head sharply around the corner to take a gander at the figures in discussion. The room was quite spacious, conforming to solid rectangular box with the hallway walls being larger than the adjacent walls. Another open entrance way was embedded in the corner on the wall across but in the opposing corner. A set of doors, two sliding silver plates, were at the centre of the room on the adjacent wall farthest from him and standing in front of it were the two figures in their discussion.

"We have come too far for this project," the calm voice of the one called Pratrarch exuded once more, "I will not return to the council empty handed…no, I will not leave this forsaken planet till we are certain the Tamaranean girl is everything we desired of her."

"That may take years," Fullusc commented, dropping an octave approving of his concern.

"We have already been here for some time," Pratrarch continued, "patience is one of our species greatest virtues."

"What have you got?" Jai prodded on the communication line.

"Definitely aliens," Interval responded softly. He brought his head back from around the corner and leaned up against the hallway wall, "Not any species that I recognize."

"Can you get me some video footage?" Jai questioned, "I can use League recognition software to pull up a match."

"I'll try," Interval slipped up his mobile phone device, holding it up to his face with his right hand enabling the use of his thumb to convert it to its film properties. Satisfied with the options selected, he proceeded to bend hi upper body nod around the corner, pulling along with him the filming device which he aimed up towards the entities at the back of the room, the screen angled back to him so that he could ascertain what was being filmed. Following a good decade of seconds in which the film was taken, he pulled himself back behind the wall and immediately set upon examining the footage taking.

They were very distinct creatures with a general appearance that could only be described as being reptilian in nature. They had small green patches, scales, for skin with notable facial characteristics of sharp vampire like teeth and full angular red eyes with black fang like irises the broke the eye in half. Their heads were the utmost of a circular shape but with the only exceptions to such a shape being thick green lines that crossed over top of their heads, one line from the ear over top to the other ear and another over from the back of their heads to over their forehead which connected into a horizontal uni-brow of the same style. Though they appeared to be solid lines from his distance, further inspection showed these lines to be made of stubby tubes like features that horizontally layered on top of one another save for the brow where they lined up vertically. Both of these figures, similar in species characteristics also matched well with their red robes that balanced over top of shoulders and collard tightly around their necks with the excess of fabric dropping down to their feet forming a circular imprint in the ground on which they stood.

"Interval get out of there!" Jai voice shone through, snapping away Interval's concentration on the video.

"Why?" Interval snapped back in his hushed tone, "what have you got on them."

"These are Psions."

"I've never heard of them," Interval complained.

"Not surprised," Jai continued with his informative speak, "They've been at war with the Guardian s of Oa pretty much since they created them."

"Created them?" Interval responded, shocked at the current line of discussion.

"These aren't just your regular run of the mill aliens Jace; these are high grade god-like entities, they've created solar systems and built up countless number of lives and then killed them through their experimentations upon them…they're still revered as gods in some cultures outside our solar system."

"Hasn't the league ever encountered any of them before?"

"You don't get it Jace…" Jai spoke with dissatisfaction, "the league isn't allowed to even touch them without repercussion from the Guardians and the Lantern Corp…they're listed as scientists bent on observation, they have a reason for being here and we're not allowed to interfere," a moment of silence passed allowing for minds to recollect, "if they find you interfering they will kill you themselves."

"There's still the matter of the kidnapping," Interval rebutted, "I can't just leave until I found out what they're doing with her."

"So you've confirmed it?" Jai prodded.

"They're talking about the girl they had kidnapped."

"Yeah, I've pulled up a list and there are a bunch of mob daughters on the missing list from this past week. I was trying to work the ransom angle," Jai interrupted, "although this changes a lot of things. Have you got any information on her?"

"Yeah," Interval swallowed with sarcasm, "I can probably narrow down that list, though I don't think the one we're looking for is going to be on your list."

"Alright," Jai responded with a moan, "what have you got?"

"The two entities here," Interval continued, "they keep talking about some Tamaranean-Human Hybrid…do we know of any Tamaraneans currently residing on earth." A moment of silence passed however, too much time since such a search through league databases would only have taken a few seconds, "Jai?" Interval hushed out a shout.

"Just the one," Jai replied with the strength noticeably absent from his voice, "Aunt Kory."

"Starfire?" Interval snapped in, "are you close to her?"

"She was a close friend of my fathers."

"Well tell me then," Interval continued, dropping to his usual monotone of unconcern, "does she have any daughters, kids with a human?"

"Just the one," Jai trembled, "Mar'i Grayson."

"Ok," Jace nodded to himself.

"Jace," Jai mumbled a little on, "you have to do something…I know what I just said was just…she's a good girl and even if you don't care, at least do this for me. Find her and get out of there…we'll deal with the repercussions as they come."

* * *

"Flash," Starfire sweetly called out. She kicked away at the fallen bodies with her purple high heeled boots, making her way towards the door where Iris stood most shocked by her appearance there, "You must forgive me for my unpleasant behaviour, I am a bit preoccupied…" she winced her eyes, slanting down her eye lids with evident anger on the tip of her mind. She clenched her hands tightly to her sides, and stepped successively harder against the ground.

"What's wrong?" The Flash beat out through heavy breaths.

"These people," Starfire spat out as she came to a stop and panned out her hands at the fallen bodies, "They've kidnapped my daughter and none of them were wise enough to tell me where they had taken her," She rose up her righteous right hand to the front of her face and allowed it to glow a majestic green which glowed fondly against clenched teeth and angled eyes, "I'll kill them all for what they've done and then I'll take it to their masters."

"Mar'i…?" Flash stepped forward, asserting herself now, "she was taken?"

Starfire nodded an affirmative over her shoulder, "Do you know something about this?" her menacing glare turned down as she approached Flash with shortness of breath, hope now tingling at her fully opened eyes, "is this why you're here?"

"Maybe," Iris sternly replied, "bear with me though," she nodded gaining some compliance from Starfire, "Jace, a speedster from the future, he's come to stay with us for a bit…anyway he found a mineral called UU-2," he looked into Starfire's eyes and recognized that she was unaware of what such mineral this was either, "turns out that the criminal that he stole it from was hired to kidnap a girl in New Bludhaven…that must have been Mar'i…he's found a way to locate the mineral though by using the league satellites to map its radiation traces…"

"Well then what are we waiting for?" Starfire spoke in her angry tone once more, "where is the source?"

"There was a small blip here" Flash continued, I came here to investigate it…we thought perhaps one of these criminal here kept one of the weapons that they used like the other one did in Central City…" she took several short breaths, "this stuff is highly radioactive…I know your angry now but all these people are at risk if we don't find," she pulled up the mobile device and glanced down at the map therein, "the mineral piece then all these men are at risk of expo-…." Her voice sharply dropped off as she dropped the device, she looked up strangely at Starfire, mouth dropping slowly to reveal her loose tongue.

"What?" Starfire shouted out, hands clamping hard to her waist.

"The source…it's you."

* * *

Interval sat silently, waiting intently for the conversation of the Psions to come to an end, "perhaps we've been here to long already…" Fullusc jutted in with pressure, "some of your colleagues may not be keen on you maintaining your honour more than their potential expertise applied to fields back at the home world…this plant's Justice League will be upon us soon…I am sure of this."

"It is not the League that we should be concerned with," Pratrarch returned, maintaining his kind calmness, "I have more overwhelming concerns of the Guardians of Oa, what they might do when they find we are tampering outside of our designated jurisdiction."

"You would dare to talk about the Guardians of Oa, the creators?"

"Surely we cannot continue to debase ourselves by not accepting our evolution…" Pratrarch slowed to slur, "but perhaps that is more a social question and we are but scientists…lets us continue our discussion with the others where you may present your case to me more thoroughly."

Interval was less than relieved when he heard the word "others", but he was nonetheless enthused by their disappearance, them crossing over to the other entrance way on the opposing wall's far corner thereby opening access up to the simple room. He rose from the floor and turned inward, his attention immediately being drawn towards the silver double panel doors at the end of the room. He approached the doors with accentuated caution recognizing the cloaks of the two Psions distancing themselves down a much longer hallway than the ones he had encountered. Turning his attention back to the door, he placed his right hand up upon the vertical crack and examined his finger through it, "genetic lock."

"You can vibrate through though?" Jai inquired.

"Yes, but this door is unlike the others, it's solid…they might keep the UU-2 stored in here…I don't think I can take that much radiation despite my physiology."

"Please Jace," Jai calmly spoke, though it appeared to be heavily felt, "just take a peak."

"OK," Interval returned with the two syllable reply just as his extended right arm began to shake violently reverberating rapidly as it had done before till it magically began to dive through the solid doors. His body likewise began to dissipate, converting from its solid mass into a jumble of blurred colours and lines breaking away from the stabilized molecules that defined it so as to allow it to safely pass through the solid door that presented itself to challenge. Within seconds, the young speedster had broken through to other side and upon recognizing what lay before him, he returned to a solid state of being. It was not the stockpiles of UU-2 for which he would most definitely leave without hesitation but the sight was just as damaging to him but on a more emotional level, a soft feeling that he had rarely encountered within himself before; empathy, a word he quickly pulled up to describe his current state of thought.

It was a silver cross shaped table top which had been angled upwards but not completely in a vertical reaching. The outstretch limbs from the cross were still rather square in formation with the body sized centre but these partial details paled in consideration of the entity, the person, that had its hands tied out to the square appendages and head that slumped over its torso letting a long frock of dark purple hair to fall down to her waist. It was most definitely the girl that had been kidnapped, the daughter of Wally's close friend whom he had set upon looking for on behalf of his mentor Jai, and she was not in the best of shape.

She must have felt the presence of the young speedster for it appeared to him that it took every ounce of her strength to lift her faltering head from the slumped state it had assumed over her chest. On any other day her luscious purple lips and eyes would have been shinning happiness embraced with a smile, but today the lips curved downward like a whimper and the eyes being solid circles with the eye lids just cupping over top. Her delicate orange skin had been damaged, veins of an unearthly blue hue were slightly visible through the layers of flesh with the priority of them being on the corners of her circular cheek bones where a dense amount of bruising had taken place. Panning down his attention from her face to her body he noticed that she had managed to maintain her uniform though slightly torn up from the battles she must have endured in the past few days. A white cloak like feature worked along her shoulders, a cape of sorts that was much longer pulled down to her left backside draining down to a point at her thighs. She wore a purple top underneath that stretched up to her neck like a short centimetre collar with accentuated silver bands at the top and a curving necklace of the same silver that fell just beneath her collar bone and panned across her chest. Just as the case was with Starfire, the costume followed through on as similar layout with the fronts of her legs and arms as well as her waist sides open to exposure; however, unlike her, these regions of exposure were carefully covered up with a black silk like fabric. She wore wrist guards, bracelets of the same silver like sheen that extended throughout her forearm only running up to the back side of her hand in a triangular formation and then cutting through her thumb and attached finger with a small band. She took a deep sniff of the deep red blood that was trailing down her nose and winced in anger at the young speedster; she could not have been much older than him, perhaps even the same age, "Who are you?" she shouted but immediately retracted herself to a moan of pain as her head dropped back down.

"They are calling me Interval," Interval hastily responded. The girl was quickly dumfounded when she saw that the strange boy in the holding chamber had suddenly appeared at her side, "Mar'i correct?" he spoke under his hushed tone of voice.

"Nightstar," she angrily rocked back, "have you come here to save me?" she continued as she attempted to pull up her head once more, ruffling her straight raven hair to her right side since Interval stood to her left, working away at the steel bent bands that had bolted her hands tightly to the cross shape. He took hold of the bolt that held the piece in straight and vibrated his hand through the cross board taking the bolt with him, "have you come here to rescue me?" she repeated through the pain in her throat.

"To be honest," Interval started up coldly, "no…" Within a moment of answering Mar'i's question, Interval stepped in from behind her as she felt to the floor. He grabbed hold of her fallen left arm and circled around his neck offering himself in for support as she crumbled on top of him, "I'm going to have to get you out of here…you need help," he took some deep breaths as he carried her towards the door. She clutched his left side with her right arm crossing over her body, "what were they doing to you here?" he waited for a response but could not stand the patience that was required, "please, it's very important that you tell me."

"They were…" Nightstar let out a small cough, head bobbing up and down, "feeding me this strange glowing rock, continuously exposing me to it…" she bit down hard and started huffing a storm through her teeth, "and I was just absorbing it over and over…my power, my abilities, they grew but I continuously got sicker and sicker…" she let out a major cough sending chunks of blood against the white flooring.

"Alright," Interval commented, "I'm going to try and call for help." The two paused in their trudging a short two metres from the door, Interval raised his hand to his ear and tapped on it lightly, "Jai?" he called out, "Jai?" he did so once more but the return was nothing but static.

"I assure you that there will not be any communication out of this complex," the Psion Pratrarch voice sounded off bringing up the attention of Interval and Nightstar to the door which had slid open to reveal the reptilian alien, the menace behind the experimentation upon her, "not until you have returned the girl to where she belongs."

"No!" Nightstar shouted loudly, her head slumping once more as a series of heavy coughs brought blood to the floor. Interval pulled her left arm more so over his shoulder, raising her up with both his hands till she could at the very least support herself with both soles flat on the ground.

"I'm afraid you don't understand our way of dealing boy," Pratrarch aimed his words to Interval, "you are to not to interfere with our affairs, and for you current state of ignorance as a result of your youth, I shall allow some mercy that you to move on in peace…just leave the girl in our care."

"Care?" Interval scoffed back, "you're torturing her."

"No different from when you dissect your own creatures here on earth for experimentation," Pratrarch continued, "she is our specimen, our creation; no one is to interfere with our scientific endeavours."

Interval nodded his head somewhat, understanding the notion and finding it unusual that he would agree with such sentiments as espoused by the otherwise mass murdering alien, "and what of the UU-2 mineral…those men you hired, they were humans and they died as a result of exposure to it…."

"That was a very unfortunate mishap. You must understand," Pratrach pulled his hands behind his back and held them solidly together as his head appeared to bow inward towards the two young heroes, "the supplies that this planet maintains were quite inferior to the ones that we are usually used to using, and then there is the case of these men being so full of ignorance…they should not have attempted to steal our technology without proper discourse, the best form of knowledge," he turned his head to a chin and looked at Interval slyly, "what is more interesting is how you know of the mineral…I must take it that you are not from around here?"

"No," Interval swiftly called back, "what do you plan on doing with the stuff…?"

Pratrarch appeared to let out a sigh before working his way to explaining their prerogative, "our home world has had some difficulty keeping the mineral in place, not to mention the difficulty that arises in finding the rare substances that compose it. When the council had decided to build the planet deemed by its native to be called 'Tamaran', we decided to embed elements that could potential form the necessary resources naturally…however, what became most interesting is the way in which its native population developed, they evolved with the mineral within them."

"Is that even possible?" Interval questioned with a shocked expression.

"It's quite amazing what the radiation the mineral can do," Pratrach continued, "we had once extracted an assortment of beings from the planet where our experimentation upon them found that they could be a source of power infinitely more stronger and able than the mineral in its current form. Imagine that kind of potential," he ferociously spoke his last sentence.

Interval's mind seemed to snap, "I have," he coldly stated. His breaths became shallow, "I could use more of it…" he kept to a whisper under his breath but the words that were presented caught the attention of Nightstar whom let a tear run past her cheek, "how is it done?"

"But it could not be held," Pratrarch's voice returned in prominence, "the specimen we selected developed unexpected abilities…however, we were lucky enough that when one escaped, that she had come here and taken a human mate to produce a daughter of her own," Interval looked down at Nightstar and saw the look of fear in her eyes, surprised yes, but nonetheless frightened by the revelations being espoused and not just from the words of the Psion, "we believe the girl is much more stable than her native family, with the infused human DNA, she may just be capable of generating the power we believed would be possible."

"Power for what?" Interval questioned.

"I assure you it is all for science," Prartarch returned his head to straight between his shoulders, "the society has plans to expand our reach, with her help we could power our work for thousands of years…on our current model we will have constructed ten planets every one of your earth ears, teeming with new life and applicable laws of physics."

"Ah…" Interval let out a hot stream of air as she shook his head with dissatisfaction.

"We are not cruel," Pratrarch reached to reaffirm his position, "if we found that she was not ready, we would have released her back into environment and collect her when she was ready…" he straightened his back to its entirety, "this is why I refuse to leave, it is not befitting of scientist to deprive its subject of even a chance of life."

"What I'd really like is some clarification," Interval piqued up with interest, "she can absorb the UU-2…refine it natural?"

"You need just as we do," Pratrarch analyzed the speedster's face, "I can see that in your eyes…I shall satisfy your curiosity and our refining methods on the condition that she be released to us."

Interval nodded his head for a moment, hesitant to answer but none the less attempting unconsciously to distance himself emotionally…but it was that one look, the vision of Nightstar's shattered soul within her eyes that convinced him otherwise, "I've really got to stop making promises," Interval spoke to himself, "I can't let you have her…" he stared Pratrarch down, "I'm sorry…the part that makes her human, that places you out of this jurisdiction doesn't it?" he nodded his head, "she's got family here that cares for her…you're going to have to find your power source elsewhere."

"I have already witnessed the deaths of your fellow men," Pratrarch stated sternly, "I will threaten the violence of death upon you if you do not release the girl," he wobbled back and forth on feet, the red cloak flaring around him, "though there is still much to question…how did you get in here in the first place?"

"I don't need doors…" Interval spat out. He quickly kicked away at Nightstar's feet taking her off balance but as she dropped his hands worked their way underneath her grabbing hold of her legs and upper body cradling her in his arms. At a blistering speed he dove towards the wall to his right vibrating faster and faster the molecules of his body, extending that such ability down to the poor injured girl in his hands before diving through to the other side.

Pratrarch stood there momentarily, looking across at the wall that had been undamaged by Interval's work, "Most fascinating."

* * *

Interval sprawled out on the floor upon breaking through the wall. He threw out his hand to brace for the impact but it wildly snapped under his body weight as it had been moving and fluctuating at such a rapid speed. He slipped along the ground for a bit leaving behind the girl, Nightstar in his wake. He found it much to futile to scrunch himself up into a ball on the stipulation of impending impact, but he tried to do so anyway, looking ahead of him at Nightstar's slumped form, face on the floor with limbs spaced out from her torso. He was successful in bringing her over; she was solid to say the least but to what he had brought her to may not have been the brightest of his options. The room glowed of the ethereal green, the kind that sparked from the mineral UU-2, shining all around the floor, the wall and the ceiling overhead; a room of crafty silver intent much like what the rest of this complex was built from which made it all that much more numbing. With weakened muscles, he flipped over onto his back side and looked at the pale ghost of a reflection that emanated from the ceiling…it would not be long till he succumbed to the intense radiation effects of the UU-2. With heavy eyes, he arched his neck to take a look behind him seeing that the mineral had been composited into rods, thin tubular formation that lined the entirety of the wall spaced from one another by half an inch, there must have been thousands of them, all in neat rows waiting to be extracted. He felt the phlegm built up in his gut, clawing away at his throat when he allowed the arch in his neck to collapse. He through his arms out to his sides and moaned in pain.

"Interval!" Nightstar's weak voice broke through to his ears but he was much too cold now to even contemplate acknowledging the call of his heroic name, "Interval!" her voice rang through once more, his eyes began to see blurry images of the green glowing frame of the storage room, if there was anything he could have wished for before he died, it would be that his acquired name not be the last word that he heard.

"Much too stupid a decision," Pratrarch's voice chimed in. Nightstar, crawling along the floor to reach her fallen new friend, looked up to find her Psion tormentor standing just inside the room, the two panels of the entrance way closing on the white wall behind it. "Your new friend will not be alive much longer…It is time to leave for the home world, we have made our decision…."

"No," Nightstar shouted defiantly, slamming a clenched fist against the ground. She looked upward at the Psion with a passionate hatred in her eyes, "I will not go with you anywhere anymore!" she continued in her shooting, mustering up her righteous furry. Slowing, the strength returned to her legs which carved upward, knees bent inward as the soles of her feet reached onto the solid floor.

Pratrarch watched confused as the girl regained her full form but with some unfortunate features that certified his end; her hands were shining an unusual flame of purple energy and was slowly creeping up the rest of her arms, her hair and eyes likewise took the same flame and when she scowled in the scientist's direction, all of the hell that she had endured and carried with her was unleashed. The UU-2 that lined the walls was beginning to lose its glowing strength, departing from it in the form of mist that became absorbed in the purple flames that engulfed Nightstar's body. The room exploded with the flame of Nightstar's expended energy, a light source so powerful that all the left over rod casing, deprived of their former contents, shattered. And then there he stood to take the blow, the scientist behind this complex mind, absorbed, broken, burned and consumed by the destructive onslaught of the purple flame.

* * *

"Jai, is this the place?" The Flash called out. She was brushing up against the shin high grass, wading through its seas at a blistering speed. She came to a sudden stop atop of one the minor cliff formations, dropping to as single knee to rub her hand over top of the ledge, feeling her fingers into the crevices of the rock structure as she analyzed the ground below. The grass blades burnt out as a nightly timed blue; however it was not too difficult for her to notice the differentiation in a particular patch just below her, a square plot of which had torn from it some of the middle matter leaving a puddle of mud which when pried upon revealed a metal plate. She stood over top dispersed puddle; someone had phased through this region.

"You should be there now." Jai returned through the Flash's cowl communication device.

"All I see is grass," Starfire shouted. She was hovering above the Flash quite away up in the air but not too far that her shouting could not be heard effectively. She looked across the plain of grass, examining its high blades as they crossed over the multitude of hills and cliff rungs where trees and shrubbery dictated their way into the little crevices before hurrying back into the woods sections where nothing, even from her height, was viewable.

"I've lost communication with him," Jai returned, "but he said something early about the grass- what was that?"

The Flash hit off to a blistering speed, darting back up the cliff formation she had once stood upon and immediately slid down its reverse side. She stopped on all fours at the bottom and glanced upward to Starfire whom was dropping down to the ground where she lay. The quick move was for just cause, looking just above the darting Starfire, she saw an explosive show of purple light a beam of strength that blew through the grounded plate which crumpled all around and broke off, pieces and shards of metal flying just about everywhere. The shot of energy eventually distilled itself in the air, the transaction like explosion breaking away into small vessels of strength that bent downward dissipating slowly into small particles of light that played like fireworks to the eyes. Starfire slid down the cliff and just as she was grabbing hold of the much younger Flash, she proceeded to pull up her left fist and aimed it backwards smashing it on top of a flat metal sheet that flew across the her sight of vision, sucker punching the piece through the cliff top breaking through the dirt with intensity thereby saving Flash from an untimely accident.

The Flash took a deep breath as she was starting to get a hold of herself. Starfire, already successfully standing, gave her a hand, helping her up to balance, "what was that?" she questioned, grabbing an arm to her head for comfort.

"Some sort of energy discharge…" her voice trailed off as he returned to look at the source of the blast. In the distance she saw a circular object of chrome steel, turning lightly as it did travelling into the distance stars of space. She watched with some fascination but nonetheless with much anger with uncertainty as to what extent this space faring vehicle was connected to the damage that was caused here. The two heroines stepped along the mushed grass that the cliff once held proudly above its overhang. Black smoked up ahead having become the aftermath of the destruction that had taken place. At the top of the mound they took a look down, a large portion of dirt had been disturbed to a mushy mud state, but a hole now existed in the ground where the heavy plate encountered once was but now was shattered into a dozen or so piece scattered through the area. The black smoke rose from within this whole, higher and higher it reached up into the air whisking off to space being dispersed by the air particles; suddenly though, a second storming beam of the purple energy arose from the hole parting the clouds of smoke from its sphere of influence. The Flash stepped back a bit, arms raised in defence, face gawking at the strange figure that had made itself known in the air. Starfire however stood emotionless on the mound watching the figure as it rose above them ahead of the smoke that continued to fan out underneath.

"That thing's got interval," The Flash called out breaking her frightened state of mind. She ran alongside to Starfire and tugged at her shoulder. The high flying entity was a form of the purple like energy, flames like surrounding its humanoid features that flowed into a tail below as it continued upward into the Earth's atmosphere. In its extended arms was the limp body of Interval, the only part of which The Flash could not bring herself to take her attention away from. The form of energy came to an abrupt stop in the air and shot right back down on a curvature towards the mound that the two heroines stood upon.

"Mom?" the entity called out, the purple flames beginning to die down. Iris watched with a strange sigh of relief when he saw the eyes of the entity carrying Jace; Mar'i's eyes had broken through revealing herself to be afresh and alive, "he needs help," she spoke sympathetically as she landed in front of them. Dropping to a knee, she cradled the young speedster's head while the rest of his body dropped flat to the surface, his breathing ever so shallow.

* * *

Jace rose up suddenly to a sitting position, ripping away at the thin white covers that wrapped around his body. Soft padding where he sat, he was on some sort of hospital bed, though not quite at any hospital. He scrawled his bare fingers along the white sleeveless shirt that he normally wore underneath his Interval gear, satisfied that it was there but uncertain as to when the costume was removed to expose it. Taking some deep breaths, he found there to be some discomfort in his breath as his head circled around the room looking for answers. It was an adequately sized bare white room with pristine lights that hung over head, the panels stretching from side to side over top of him; it was the medical bay of the XS laboratory.

This quaint set up was only really ruined by the appearance of a metallic cart of sorts that stood to his left just barely touching the bed that sat nearer to the near right side of the room with its front connected to the wall in behind his head. The top of the cart was composed of several box like monitors that towered on top of one another conveying a multitude of information that he easily assessed as being rooted in his health. A turn away shared the delightful view of Iris and an unnamed woman standing next to her. The carrier of the Flash legacy leaned up against the wall not to far in the distance just near to the lone Plexiglas door which was blocked from clarity on account of her standing there.

"Good," Iris peaked up from the wall with a smile, "your awake…" she crossed the few steps near to Jace's bedside, "this is doctor Evelyn Chambers," she rose her hands and presented the woman standing next to her, "I pulled her from S.T.A.R. labs when weren't certain whether or not you were healing properly."

The woman, a tall one at that nearly standing on par with Iris, took long strides to reach his left bed side. She wore a perfectly clean lab coat as all Doctors of the sort were habit to do. Her hair was of a nice delicate black strength and scrunched up like wrapped cords above the back of her head having been pulled all the way from the cusp of her forehead. Dark skinned and sweet eyes dark brown eyes, she was most certainly, she certainly set a standard of beauty for doctors everywhere; however, despite such notions, he walked with an assertive step, arms crossed firmly on her chest…she seemed to be the kind that was prone to over sense of seriousness in all issues that her hard hands came into contact with. Iris placed the open palm of her right hand against her left and planted them hard on the bed and nodded towards Jace with a smile, instantly relieving him of any stress he might have felt from the possibilities a medical stay could have created within him. "You've taken a lot of this unknown radiation, a nuclear reactors worth…" Chambers came to cover over top of Iris and looked over to the monitors, hands pulled back to pat her coat down at her sides, "but with your enhanced healing abilities it's mostly been reduced down to a chest x-rays," she tilted her head to a side and analyzed the numb feeling presented on Jace's face when he looked back at her, "it was very close there…though I know very little of you and Iris's abilities, I don't think you could have survived that kind of exposure without help."

"And help I had," Jace swiftly responded.

"Speaking of which," Iris rose up from the bed, and glanced over towards the door, "I believe there is someone here who wants to thank you."

Both Iris and Chambers backed away from the bed making room for Jace to see towards the door. He curved his head down to his left shoulder and looked inquisitively at the door frame as wisps of air shot from around its frame with a hissing sound. When the chamber had been depressurized, the door began to slide swiftly into to its left into the slot that awaited its snug fit. Jace brought his head down a little, eyes closed lightly, and let swallowed awkwardly attempting to work his way against the hump that had developed in his throat. When he arose back up he saw entering the door was the tall Starfire, her rather majestic princess like appearance being exceptionally shown in the bright lights provided, not that she was ever in requirement of it. She smiled gracefully with that perfect smile along with the green laced eyes exuded a fond happiness. She looked upon Jace only briefly before turning to her side to allow her companion in along with her. Mar'i stepped through the entrance way, quite the spitting image of her mother save for the abstraction of a deeper held purple that recognizably contrasted. Her eyes were wide with puzzlement, lips somewhat trembling. She rose her head and nodded towards Jace whom returned a likewise gesture, affirming her safety and shifting the concern towards that of himself.

"I wanted to thank you Jace," Starfire started, "for saving my daughter."

"Though it would be rude to contradict such sentiment," Jace replied in his usual tone, "I think it was I that needed to be saved," he glanced over to Mar'i obtaining a soft smile from her that forced her to close her eyes in pleasure.

"If it had not been for you," Starfire stepped up to the edge of the bed and held her hands tightly at her wrist, looking down upon Jace with sympathy, "then we never would have been able to have found her in the first place."

Jace took in a heavy breath, dropping the demeanour of happiness, "the mineral…is there anything left?" He clenched tightly to the blankets, hiding his hands underneath them as he did so.

"No," Starfire responded sharply, "it would appear that Mar'i absorbed them all."

Jace shook his head up and down as he slowly turned to his right to look at the bare white wall; he let his fist break off into palms returning circulation to them. He slipped the top bracket of his teeth onto his lips and thought marginally of an opportunity lost, "and Mar'i…" he turned back to them, "is she going to be alright?" he turned to raise his eyes to lock on to Starfire's but she appeared to be puzzled by this assumption that she could answer.

Mar'i stood at the left corner bottom of the bed just on par with Jace's ankles. She, like her mother, had her hands clasped together at her waist but there was something not quite right about her…facing the right side wall, she was just staring openly into space, a look of puzzlement in her round eyes with deep regulated breaths. "Mar'i?" Starfire questioned her daughter quite loudly.

The young hero jolted suddenly almost falling over into the edge of the bed, "I'll be fine," she turned to her mother catching her eye for just a moment before turning back to look at Jace but upon seeing his inquisitive face, she turned away harshly, "he looks like one of them…" she whispered somewhat under her breath just audible for Jace to catch on to.

"What?" Jace questioned, further delving into his nature of curiosity.

The inquisition would have to wait however for Jai suddenly appeared in the door frame, clutching tightly to the inner frame with his strong arm and leaning in from there, "we have a problem," he looked over to Iris but clearly the attention of all persons in the room whom looked over to his direction for the information regarding the problem that inflicted him, "we're missing a vial of Velocity-9," he quickly spoke under a repetition of heavy breaths never break his eye contact from his sister.

"What?" Iris came out shocked breaking her stance from the wall and looking at her brother in disbelief, "did you check the security tapes?"

"First thing I did," Jai shook his head from side to side sharing the same sentiment as his sister, "there's just no way…nothings been displaced or disrupted, no alarms hit and there's no one on the camera…it was just there one second," he let out one last flush of air, "and then it was gone."


	19. Iota 5

Iota #5  
Volume 1. Story 4.  
Pursuits of the Disinterested

* * *

It had been just under a month since Kyle Rayner was given an opportunity to settle down on Earth, his home planet, though the circumstances that had brought him home were less than desirable. He had been assigned by the guardians to be involved in the research and development of a new kind of power ring, one that was self-consciously aware of its actions, the hope being that such a new entity would one day supplant the cold calculating computer format that was the popular norm in the current arsenal of the Green Lantern Corp. In this position he had hoped that he would no longer be forced into the violent conditions that Lanterns were akin too, that he would avoid the unspoken stipulation that the only way out of the Lantern Corp was to die, but this notion and hope was soon squashed by unfortunate events. While testing the rings capabilities with its first wielder Narog, Kyle encountered a piece of the Lantern killing collective creatures known as Legion which had manifested itself into a fully formed knight that attempted to steal the ring having successful been able to recognize its sentience and thus adaptability to their essence. Though decisively defeated, Narog was killed in the course of the conflict and the ring fell into the hands of a young delinquent named Deryck whom he has taken into his care with much reluctance.

"He's not exactly a stable kid," Kyle voiced his concern in a lukewarm manner; "he's got quite the criminal record here for someone so young," he shook his head negatively, "We've had young people in the Corp before, but never a human…and certainly not someone like this." The tall lantern was quite fit for his years, a noted person for his experience which showed in his voice, mannerisms and movements though quite humble when such facets of his being were brought up. The hardened years of heroic duty had however taken away much of the desires he had held in his youth before the ring entered his life; once a gifted artist, the most he drew up now were hard constructs of emerald light to pound his enemies with.

When he accepted his life on Oa as a Master Lantern, Kyle left much of his earthly belongings behind in private storages or if declared to be not particularly attached to it, sold, given away or thrown out. As that was, he had only a few boxes of his closest belongs which he had brought with him to the townhouse that he now occupied and shared with Deryck. Within the first week of settling in the contents had been unpacked and the boxes returned to the storage facility establishing the hope for creating a homely environment; however, such a notion was lost within the veteran Lantern himself whom had yet to distance himself materially from the Lantern Corp. He had taken to wearing the standard black full body wear that the Corp members typically wore underneath their uniforms for comfort, he had grown so used to it that he feigned from taking it off for something casual which of itself was only prevalent in the somewhat suit styled straight jet black pants that he wore over top. His face was sharp as stone, hair of a straight darkened hue cut short to his scalp, and his eyes a darkened green that still possessed the intent of the Lantern mission within their reflection.

"Your concerns are noted," an authoritative voice brought in a wave of confirmation that stemmed throughout Kyle's spin, "all will be considered before the Guardian's council when the time has come, but of what suggestions do you have at this time?" Kyle's mind flipped around for answers to the question, eyes strangely fluttering around his immediate area looking for a burst of inspiration. He stood at the near centre of the spacious and décor empty living room which had for the moment abandoned the the usual source of light being opting for privacy that was further manifested in large pane window at the front of the house being severely tainted thereby adequately blocking out any light from the daytime of the outside world. The room would have been in complete darkness had it not been for the extension of Kyle's right fist where a stream of pulsating emerald energy had gushed out from his ring to form a spherical bubble that engulfed the entirety of his lower arm. This however was not the only source; the bubble acted as the power source for the construction of a flat monitor screen that was a near metre length sitting suspended in the air no more than five paces ahead of his face. The delicate glow gave life to the otherwise flush green walls and the dark wood stained floors which bounced the light around intermittently in and out of straight edges of the long boards.

Breaking free from the otherwise plain green appearance was the humanoid responsible for the pondering, a blue person whose red robes and white front piece depicting the lantern logo betrayed his status as an Oan, one of the designated Guardians of the Universe. The wispy white hair foaming out from the sides of his head, the angular eyes with fitting slim white brows that moulded upward into the mountainous ridges of the wrinkles of his forehead, shared him as a man of wisdom and intellect whom genuinely showed concern despite the rather stern monotone he had taken.

"He's quite driven towards his own cause," Kyle worked up his voice as he returned to look at the screen, "he has this problem from his personal life. His friends were killed…I tried to settle the matter, but I'm afraid it stretched out to be a lot more serious than I expected," he paused for a moment allowing for the concluding thoughts to formulate, "I believe he has the willingness to kill and with the early state of consciousness that the ring has at this time, I don't think wise that we take the risk that he'll restrain himself if such a moment should arise…he's unstable, just as one would expect from someone so young."

"But you've neglected to mention the good that he has done with this power entrusted to him," with the appearance of the soft tapping voice veering off from Kyle side, it became evident that he was not the only Lantern present in the room with something to be said. Kyle turned his head slowly to his side to see Kai-Ro, the current assigned Green Lantern of earth, stepping from the central darkened hallway of the townhouse towards Kyle. Kai-Ro was quite a bit smaller and less robust than Kyle, but for this lack of intimidation he more than made up for his increasingly calm demeanour under pressure and his unmatchable will power that was developed in his years of study abroad and within before being granted the power of the ring to defend the earth sector. He was quite clean shaven with a very oval shaped head and unlike Kyle and Deryck, had little concern for the notion of a secret identity and forgone the wearing of a mask to meet concealment. "He performed admirably when he encountered the cybernetic drones and opened to us a case of inter-galactic kidnapping that would have otherwise have gone unnoticed," Kai-Ro came to a stop when he was near on par with Kyle and where he was able to turn and look to the screen. Like other Lanterns whom have heralded from earth, Kai-Ro opted for a unique look from the basic uniform. The Green Lantern symbol was superimposed upon the entirety of his body, the circular indented sides akin to all lanterns being at the direct centre of his chest with a small white ball within a black inner border. The top piece wrapped round his neck producing his head like a target from above, while the bottom part below the central circle veered too his sides underneath his chest thereby engulfing his stomach and carrying on past his waist to his leggings. His hands and much of his forearms were covered with the thick gloves leaving the black portions to be regulated to his upper arms and chest sides where the lantern shape had not hit. "And I believe he has already been taken into favour with a young team that has surely proven itself in front of you, pulling you free from the control of an adolescent god," Kai-Ro turned his attention to the screen, "the boy is temperamental, but that is something that changed through time and experience. And with solid mentoring I am certain that he will make a fine addition to Corp…he is certainly not a murderer," he nodded his head.

"Still," Kyle slapped his hands to his sides in defiance, "If we can extract the ring from him without harming…then that might be for the best. We've worked quite long and hard on this project," he gulped, "I want to see it through."

"Have you not at least given to the boy adequate conditions for which to prove himself to you?" The Guardian questioned Kyle.

"I've given him the best possible place to live, and I've had some contacts shuffle around his criminal record in order to give him an opportunity to attend an institution of education," Kyle eyes dropped from the screen as his body slumped, "but I can't keep playing this carefree guardian," his head shot up suddenly as an he became oddly stern in his sentiments, "he's already been in a fight at the place he attends and he doesn't seem to like it here much better, he's not used to this kind of living and frankly neither am I…He's already disappeared once on my watch and he won't tell me where he was, I don't think it'll be too long till he tries to run away for good and I can't permit myself to allow whatever damage he might cause."

"Where is he now?" The Guardian continued to prod.

"He should be at the institution," Kyle responded in haste, "but I doubt he's stayed there…I doubt he's spent any time there at all, he'd much rather to be out and around with his team."

"You do not approve of this association?" The Guardian seemed to be stepping into rhetorical realm, "are you not a part of a team yourself?"

"These boys that he is currently involved with, they grew into their roles. They were always certain of what they would be doing when the time came, Deryck though; he's just sort of been thrusted into it our world without the necessary training to be a contributing member."

"But I must contend that the ring has chosen him for a reason," Kai-Ro was quick to interject, "we cannot rule out that the ring has developed a moral code that falls in line with the teachings of the guardians in par with its capabilities."

"It has a child's mind," Kyle snapped back, "and the boy practically stole it from Narog's corpse," Kyle breath grew shallow as the words spurned out rapidly.

"Kyle," Kai-Ro drew his attention to the other lantern in the room, "you are among the most elite of the Corp, you and I were quite young when we too were granted our rings and they were given to us for destined purpose. It was under the guidance of our peers that we achieved our right to hold on to it. If your concerns for Deryck are true then he is going to need all the guidance that he can get. I am certain you are the best option for this boy to turn his life around…there is something quite special about him, do not be so quick to judge him."

"Both your concerns will be presented at the judgment," the Guardian stepped in to end the early stages of an evolving argument, "for now though, the boy must be carefully watched and the testing must not go unhinged...I advise that you train and teach him our standards and principles for I assure that if the ring has truly bonded to him and we are unable to remove it from him then we may be forced to imprison him for as long as the ring is a part of him if he does not comply."

As Kyle had thought it to be possible, and as clichés would foretell, Deryck had indeed departed from school before the designated time of its daily closure in the afternoon, though this was not saying much since he had rarely attended the institution on the account of a particular boy whom incessantly annoyed him. He sat on the stair way leading up to their rooms, quite a ways up to avoid the wide opening mouth of the hallway that led into the living room where the two Lanterns and the guardian on the screen were in the middle of their discussion. He clamped a hand to the corner of his forehead and lowered his head down a little but not too much that his eye could not see the spectacular glow of the splattering emerald energy, his path of vision leading from the interior of the larger living space to the front door of the house just ahead of the stair's end, its solid brownish state absorbing the glow in flashing exuberance.

"Why did you have to give him a preliminary initiation?" Kyle's voice distinctly echoed around to the stairway pulling Deryck's head up, "it's much too early to be convinced that he'll be one of us."

"We fight better as a team," Kai-Ro's voice rose in defence, "whether we accept him or not is to be determined, but for now he holds one of our rings and from my position he appears to be willing and able to accept what it means to hold that power…while he is around he must hold some accountability for his actions, he must know the responsibility that comes with being a Lantern and he can't understand that if he's always going to be on the outside."

"He'll only disappoint you," Kyle responded coldly.

"If that time comes," Kari-Ro returned to his usual calmness, "then we must be prepared to turn him over to the Guardians for full judgement."

In this common scenario, it was usual for the teen to feel guilt or remorse for the actions being espoused by their mentors and guardians whom contended many disappointments in them; however, unlike the norm, Deryck felt no emotional states associated with such a depressing atmosphere created by the unkind words of the Lantern forces below. The polished soft wooden steps that his body hung upon were foreign to him…this home was manufactured just like all the people that lived in them, he certainly felt like he was not going to put up with it but the voices in his head had many different opinions. The last words of the unusual entity called the Guardian were really starting to work their way into his consciousness which quickly echoed and spread out into variety of different conflicting personalities that continued to rise into agonizing screams and rings that made the words of the Lanterns on the main floor unintelligible. The tips of his fingers tightened around the ledge of the step he sat upon followed by closure of his eyes and gnashing of his of his teeth as he grunted silently while enduring the pain of his mind that had quickly been building up as a sinking pain within his stomach. Sitting in the dark held such little solitude to what it used to be and while he hated being alone, he knew at this moment it would be such a relief to hear himself think. He propped himself up to his feet and instantly gave into heavy breaths. The moisture of sweat curled around his forehead, becoming all the more obvious when he turned his head to look at the floor above, the swift moments spawning a chill that circled the halo of his head; the multitude of voices had come to an end but only because one of them managed to out muscle the others to become the forefront and Deryck knew exactly which voice it was.

"No, I have to get out of here," Deryck harshly stated to himself but kept to a rather hushed tone. His general description had best been described as being overtly similar to that of Kyle holding to the spiky black hair and green eyes though his were of a much lighter tonal value; anytime he was in public with the elder Lantern he could not help but lose a bit of himself in the notion that those who saw them thought them related. Even out of costume he appeared to be in a similar vein as Kyle sticking to a straight black uniform with a meagre collar and a green leather like jacket that he felt had become a trademark of his design. He was quite the muscular person for his age, not that he ever intentional sought exercise rather the flex of his body structure arose and was furnished through the time he spent working for the underground as a helpful hand; he was young yes, but believed himself old enough to start making connections with his so called future employers. Recent times however have proven difficult for him, seeing a complete reverse in his original desires on account of the ring that had grafted to his finger, a lanterns ring with the consciousness of a small child that continuously berated the him its logic and deductions even in his sleep, "didn't you hear what that thing said? I don't have a lot of choices here…" he continued as he bolted up from his seated position and quietly darted up to the top of the floor.

It was not long till he had reached the third floor where his room resided; the voice of the ring inside his head would not cease, his own thoughts being difficult to find as they always seemed to shift back to what the ring was implanting in him, thoughts of what was good and what is just, abstract notions that belonged to the Guardians, a race of beings dedicated to the protecting of the universe, whom he had never met but was nonetheless forced to follow their teachings blindly. It was all to nauseating to him for he was not one keen to think of philosophic rhetoric that he traditionally found to be never ending and out right boring. His room was rectangular in orientation, falling in line with the available length that the townhouse provided. In fashion with just about the entire building, the walls were of a washed green hue that contrasted against dark wooden floor panels and a simple white ceiling. Up against the smaller wall at the back of the townhouse was his green covered jack sized bed, something he was always happy to have but never seemed to have the time to use. On each side of the were long windows, glass panels tall enough for his body to fit through easily with minor crouching if ever a situation arose where it was necessary for him to make a quick exit way from the room he assigned himself to. It was a simple room just like every other facet of the townhouse, generally in need of something that would make it homely but like Kyle, he was unwilling to commit time to such things especially since his current desires did not see such a place existing in his near future, "we have to get out of here…" he nodded his head to himself, his body beginning to slump a little while his hands shook uncontrollably, "don't you understand? I'm not cut out for this…this…" he began to stammer but knew the word he was searching for would be picked up by the ring sooner or later and promptly dropped the verbal cue, "you've got to give me some backing…."

With a mere thought, the power of the ring rose up and around his hands and the soles of his feet, pressing inward towards his body at a heightened speed seemingly pulling from the air a Lantern's uniform that turned Deryck into the young hero known as Iota. Composing the costume were hard casing boots that wrapped tightly around his toes, thin yet strangely hard amour like gloves appeared around his palms and forearms leaving his fingers free while breaking off at the elbow joints with angular flaps, a green octagon outline emblazoned on his chest conveying within it two white triangular pieces that held their points inverted to one another, shoulder pads in green fabric form only graced his upper body in straight line just barely tapping upon his shoulder blade, and finally the angular mask with near triangular pointed shapes out cropping from the bar that covered his eyes, two pieces upward tapping along his temples and the other two down taking position upon the bulk of his cheeks; it was a costume quite distinct from the uniform worn by the lanterns he had seen on television and now in real life. The change in garments turned him from the average human Deryck into the teen Lantern called Iota. "Alright, come on," Iota reaffirmed his decision with the ring, "let's get out of here."

"Deryck," Kyle's voice broke Iota's conscious thinking. Kyle's hand became visible around the edge of the door and with a simple push the man's full body became visible, his open eyes looking the boy up and down, "good, you're ready to go." Within a few seconds Kyle's ring worked its energy around his body, placing overtop of his typical wear the usual Lantern's uniform; heavy and tight fitting wrists bands that ran up his forearm, hard edged boots that stopped short of his knees, shoulder pieces that connected into a triangular point along his chest where at the centre the lantern logo rested in a circle of white, and the mask, a simple band of green that made his eyes appear as faded and rectangular as Iota's design.

"Where are we going?"

"The League's ground Headquarters," Kyle responded as he dropped his powered fist casually to his side, flexing himself out in the uniform to get back into his comfort zone, "I think you're well settled in now and that ring doesn't seem to be going anywhere soon, so we need to start moving forward and get you ready for the Guardian's inspection."

"No, no, I don't need any of that," Iota spurned, "can we just get on with my case and find the soulless sleaze that killed my friends? The ring will come off when we've taken care of it…I'm sure of it!" His right fist pounded into the openness of his left palm while his legs began to buckle and prepare for flight.

"Deryck," Kyle lowered his head a little, "it was a dead end, we tried our best but there's just not enough for us to run on…your friends are-"

"No they're not!" Deryck snapped back. He took heavy breaths and winced his yes, "Fine…can we just find another way to get the ring? Why am I waiting for the Guardians? Just get me up there now and take this thing off of me! I don't need it, I can figure this all out on my own," he turned away from Kyle and crunched his arms together crossing over his chest, "just leave me alone," he muttered.

"I'm sorry Deryck," Kyle returned, "but I can't."

"Why wouldn't you just want to imprison me?"

"What?"

Iota turned slightly to the side and shot a glance at Kyle from his hung head, "I heard what your boss was saying, if I don't fall in line with your stupid plan than you're just going to imprison me for the rest of my natural life…all because of this ring."

"Hmm," Kyle sighed, "I thought you might be around…."

"You said you would be able to help me…"

"And I am," Kyle contended.

"No," Deryck fluttered his eyes as he reviled the implied form of helping, "I don't want all this training or whatever it is that you're wanting from me…I just want to find them OK?"

"There's nothing more we can do at this time," Kyle stepped up his authoritative streak, "and don't be so quick to discount yourself of being the wielder of that ring, show me what you can do with it, convince me that we don't need to deprive you of a long life…."

* * *

The gentle hum of the emerald lantern energy reverberated and encapsulated Iota's body in a shell, raising him to the air into an unconscious flight plan that was followed by the manual movements of his right arm, ring poised at the front of his fist to produce a barrage of laser fire, "this is too easy," he cried out in enthusiasm drawing the ire of his attached mentoring Lantern Kyle.

"Excellent," Kyle monotone protruded with an evident taste of boredom. He looked up to Iota, seeing the charging of energy swivel around the boy's ring fist and divulge into a thick stream of solid green light, "you've certainly shown your proficiency with video games."

"Video what?" Iota called back down with a puzzling gesture as his hand dropped to his side, the bubbling of the light having subsided for the time being.

Kyle had brought Iota to the nearby base camps owned by the Justice League, one of the lower basement levels of the same building he had brought him too early for his investigation into the activities at the fair grounds that had led to the alleged deaths of his friends [Iota #3]. The floor and the roof appeared to be composed of the same smooth white stone substance and separated by no less than four stories thereby offering credence to the depth this floor was at underground. The sides of this large rectangular arena appeared to be a lot similar to the floor and ceiling in composition but upon closer examination small black dots could been seen producing an eye numbing framework of lines and patterns; the opening for which transparent lights and lasers blistered through making the holographic constructs that while simple in comparison to the imagination of the Lantern's ring, could still pack a punch when formed into their own constructs. Several silver coloured metre long poles flowed throughout the room, breaking out from the wall at differing angles, all possessing at one end a circular plate waiting for the smashing of a fist, kick, or in Iota's case, the snapping of his ring's energy.

Iota twirled his body around in the air several times while simultaneously tilting down to his stomach side to face the ground. With a slight pull back of his fist, a shot fired off colliding with the plate end of a passing pole which immediately sounded off its victory as it exploded into the particles of light that once had once conglomerated its solid existence. "Thought this training stuff would be a little more than what we were already doing out back and about," Deryck commented with some arrogance, however relieved that the words he heard referring to his possible imprisonment earlier and the thoughts regarding his future in its aftermath were soundly off their mark if this part of training was to be the worst offered by Kyle, but it was not to long till something else sparked in his ears perhaps being drawn up from the consciousness of the ring itself, "is there something more?" Deryck twisted around to bring his front facing the ceiling as he additionally sought to stabilize himself to an upright standing position as he sauntered down to the ground, eyes glancing down to see Kyle.

Kyle stood upon the ground floor near to the centre of the training room, he was depowered at the moment but nonetheless wearing the Green Lantern uniform, "that's because you do not understand the rings purpose," Kyle gloved hands clasped his opposing upper arms as he let out a deep breath along with the puffing of his chest; there was a mix of anger and disappointment in his demeanour, but none of which ever had translated too strongly into his words.

"Are you going to tell me about it?" Deryck questioned with a rather sly tone as he inched closer to Kyle but still hung upwards in the air a short two feet from touch the solid floor. His feet flared backwards slightly allowing for his toes to aim to the floor while his arms in a similar manner took to a limp mode but nonetheless kept his hands open and slight raised at stomach level branching out in the finger appendages at Kyle.

"Certainly," Kyle smirked just as his hands dropped from his sides. Within the moment of his hands relieving their clenched grasp around his upper arms, a bolt of energy, electrical in its lightning pattern, burst from Iota's left side wrapping its tentacles of pulsating blue light around his arms and along the breadth of his chest, pressing hard upon him with the force of a semi-truck that not only kept him in the air but also pushed him towards the side hammering up against the wall with a smash that resulted in the crack of his back momentarily followed by the banging of his head, his limbs flared out and away from his body flickering at a quick speed as the shock of the impacting bolt broke off its hold.

Iota coughed as he dropped to the ground, his hands breaking down to the floor and scratching along its smooth surface; quite thankful that the shield his emanating ring gave him had held through the blindsided attack, "What was that?" he groaned as he rubbed his back along and against the wall as he attempted to get back up onto his feet. "Kyle?" he shouted across the floor as he saw the elder Lantern's backside which was reverberating convincing him that the man was chuckling.

"A slight jolt of electricity," Kyle's chuckling movements broke away as he turned to stare down the boy whom was now walking with some determination towards him, "the ring was designed to take in account its own environment, so even when you haven't seen the bolt and prepared yourself to defend against it, the ring should have sensed the change in its environment and operated in a suitable manner."

"What does that mean?" Iota came within ten feet of Kyle, "it's trying to control me?" he scoffed with anger, he shook his head and clenched his teeth while throwing his hands out in disgust, "it won't shut up!"

"It's trying to save your life, especially when you need it," Kyle stated with a stern tone, his hands pulled up to his waist and planted firmly there, "what if that bolt that hit you was lethal? Too many times we've been caught off guard but now the ring is capable of sensing the things that we miss…you have to listen to it and allow it to do its job."

"What?" Deryck attempted to retort but his vocal chords were quickly lost into the pulsating energy tapping electrical bolt that smashed up on the corner of his shoulder propelling his upper body up and backwards in the air while his legs awkwardly followed through. He swivelled around to this stomach side as the bolt's traditional appendages dropped their grasp leaving the boy to prepare himself for the inevitable conflict with the ground below. Hands prepared, he grunted as he felt the weight of his body overcome his all too human strength. He then proceeded to just lay there, arms compressed, as he tirelessly complained in hush tones.

"Why didn't you try to suspend yourself in the air?" Kyle commented sharply as he stepped towards the fallen boy, "your control is not as strong as you think but that's alright," he attempted to tap into a reassuring voice, "that is what the ring is there for…you just need to give into it for a bit."

"Kyle," Iota grunted while he turned to his back side so as to sit up more properly. The pain that was coursing through his body was rather obvious in the tightly locked teeth and narrowed eyes, "it won't shut up," he lowered his head and clasped his left hand to his forehead while maintaining his balance with his planted right arm.

"What is it telling you?" Kyle reached out with a semblance of compassion.

"I don't care what it says!" Deryck bolted up to his feet and just as quickly took a to the air with his arms spread out at his sides, taking his glare away from Kyle, "I don't need it," he continued to shout out in his dissatisfied shock of a tone, arching his upper body and legs as he prepared himself for the near invisible bolts of electricity that moments ago had reduced him to a rag doll, not painful, but nonetheless harrowing on account of the inflicted humility. His head bent on his neck, tossing around from side to side to look for any visible ripples in the walls that would reveal a beam reaching for impact with him. In a flash of anger, Iota shot up his ring fist and like a paint brush produced a green bar of the illustrious energy in its wake to use as a shield to block out the powerful surge that tapped near to his shoulder, splattering around at the sides with the initial explosion before dissipating seconds later. His eyes caught upon another ripple that appeared to be growing wider and wider, approaching much sooner than he had anticipated but he was less than hesitant to work himself into stopping the oncoming blow. He took to a tornado like twirl in the air pulling off three full spins of his body with his hands poised to produce a cyclone of the flat energy that forced a crackled in the bolts of energy that dispersed along the surface incurring no physical effects upon the boy but effectively served the bolstering of his confidence. He took a good sniff as he realized this current escapade was over and proudly looked off into the distance, "I can handle it," he beckoned loudly to Kyle.

"Alright fair enough," Kyle calmly spoke. He took small steps towards the flying Iota, "you can handle yourself well in some difficult situations, but I'd like you to turn your attention towards your constructs. There is a lot more your ring is capable of than just lasers and shields that can be used to fight off your enemies."

"What difference does it make?" Iota lowered his shoulders from the proud strength they were and hung his head lowly to see the elder Lantern below, "your intergalactic policemen, does it matter how I take the criminals out so long as they are taken out?"

"Maybe not," Kyle swiftly responded, "but if you are to keep the ring then you should be aware of what it is capable of doing so that when the time comes where you're needed to extend yourself beyond the simple constructs you've been doing then you'll be more than ready," Kyle paused suddenly letting seconds pass away as he honed in on the despair image conveyed on Iota's face, "It'll work fine in producing shields, boxing gloves and even a bridge," he shrugged, "but you need to be mentally prepared for a situation that requires you to construct something that is a little more complex in its orientation…an engine, a pump, things that require knowledge and applied intellect to construct; it requires imagination."

Deryck rolled his eyes and turned his head away from Kyle to commit fully to his dissatisfaction in private but he soon snapped back into place and paid close attention, "what do you want me to be doing?"

"Why don't you start with constructing something like a soccer ball," Kyle raised his right hand to his chin and nimbly ran his thumb and index finger along the ending nub, "pentagon piece, construct a ball with say fifteen pieces.

"Simple enough," Iota commented as he conjured up the power in his ring to produce a ball a couple of feet in front of his face, analyzing the forming shapes so that it met the requirements that had been instructed to him. Moulded, and formed, Iota succeeded in constructing the soccer ball sized image with its interconnecting pentagon shapes. It shined its strange green glow and Iota smiled as he marvelled at the easy construction he could easily visualize in his mind.

"Excellent work," Kyle commended the teen, "now how about doubling that…construct a ball using thirty pentagon shapes," his voice remained calm and subjective that produced a wave of uneasiness that echoed throughout Iota's body as he began to formulate the conception of a thirty piece ball. The ball already formed began to puff outward getting larger from what it once was, cloning the patches that constituted its framework in order to achieve the goal that had been set up for him. He licked down his lips and felt the cold sweat turn around the brim of his brow but mentally he found himself to be quite fit and believed himself to have successfully achieved the desirable object which in of itself was nearly double the size of the original soccer ball. "Alright," Kyle voice broke back in, "we're going to make a bit of a jump here, keep the image of the ball active in both your mind and through the ring's energy…" he paused for a moment allowing his young companion to enfranchise himself in the idea, "are you ready?"

"I can do this," Deryck snapped back under a tight jaw.

It became quickly evident to Kyle that Deryck was beginning to become disillusioned in his current mastering of the ring's power; he was so certain of it being a bad idea to allow someone so young to hold a ring for any length of time, but he was nonetheless willing to test the current bearer whom was so embittered with the idea that he could hold his own as a lantern, "can you continue the pattern with one hundred pieces…?"

Deryck shut his eyes momentarily as he attempted to conceive the idea of a ball in his mind, all one hundred pieces coming to form the desirable object but as he attempted to count off the pentagon patches in his mind he would also seem to lose count which became all the more difficult to focus upon when he found his limbs had grown cold and numb along with a distressing muscle strain that had come to wrap itself around his lower back and stomach; the ring's power was torturing him but it was not without compassion for relief. The green images of the patterned shapes appeared in the darkness as the sole source of light, sparkling as they blew across from all the recesses of his mind to form the shape that he desired, "how about a hundred and one shapes…one hundred two?" Kyle's voice ventured in slowly. The image within his mind continued to factor in the inputted data but when it finally came to fruition he realized in an instance that it wasn't under his power and promptly opened his eyes to gaze upon the object formed in his frustration. Though the ball had been formed in some composure it was evident that much the pieces that fallen in disarray, distancing pieces that spread out to the ceiling like asteroids awaiting collisions. Not only could he not count the pieces that were intact but he was dismayed to find himself absent of the ethereal green shield that normally encompasses his body; he had gently softened to the ground throughout his duration of thought and was completely oblivious to the fact that he was now standing on the ground with his organic feet. It was quite shaming to say the least.

"What's the difference between a hundred and hundred and one peices?" Iota angrily spat out as he pulled his hands to his chest, fists still clumping. In an instance, the ball lost is composition by significant margins, dropping the solid crossing shiny hues that made a full appearance to become simple contour lines that they themselves began to dissipate into the nothingness. A cloud of rage graced itself like a halo over Deryck's head as he let out quick and heavy breaths through his grinding teeth. "I can't make the distinction," he continued his tirade, slapping his palms to the side of his head producing a pop within his ears.

"Let the ring focus on it for you," Kyle instructed in his calming tone, taking some carefully small steps towards the downtrodden boy, "it knows what it can do; you just need to enable it."

The words held little soothing power for the temperamental state that Iota felt himself forced to embraced. Hands now hanging loosely to his side, head hanging low with gaze venturing into the outline of his body, the shadow that cascaded along the ground; the fuse was ready to snap and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. "No!" he cried out as he smashed his right foot into the ground and madly threw his hands down in a seamless motion. He shot a glare across at the stone faced Kyle and in the instance decided to make his move to leave, knowing full well what consequences might await him if he stayed here and failed all of these tests, not mention the ringing in his head, the ceaseless thumping of stubborn child that he was beginning to understand as being not too much different from himself. He slapped his hands against his thighs in one more defiant action before proceeding to make his way out of the training arena, turning his back to Kyle and making his way towards the side wall, "exit!" he shouted out to signal the revealing of a door, the broad silver slice of a door that materialized inside the holographic sensor wall, promptly sped into a slide towards the ceiling revealing the white wall of the hallway on the other side out of the arena. "I don't need this," he grunted as he came on par with the dividing line of the arena and the hallway.

While crossing into the long corridor that ran alongside the training arena, it was of great misfortune that he come across the rather bewildered yet well interested White Martian whom Kyle had referred to as being the current Martian Manhunter; the head master of the league whose ethnic background did more than just frighten a few people. He was a tall entity with gangly thin limbs that adequately lined up with this torso and head which all together produced a still enviable muscular physique which included in its repertoire a set of long finger that inched off into crescent like claws. All save for his hands and head were decked with a vibrant sheen of black which balanced the core strength of the white light at every possible angle; the flowing blue ankle deep cap and crossing red straps had seemingly been left behind. Iota stood as close to the wall nearest to the inner arena as he brushed by the stunned Martian, his long white face, the distinguishing triangular point extension of his forehead flaring off to his back along with two smaller ones darting out to his sides, the narrowing yet straight lined chin, heavy brow that was thickly of flesh, and of course those rectangular shaped set of red eyes which appeared to be menacing in their approach to analyze the boy. He just stood there, and glared at the boy with a tilted head as he passed by. Iota quickly took to the power that his ring provided, wrapping his physicality in the emerald energy as he broke off the short seconds of connection that existed between him and the Martian. Off into the air he went, leaving behind only the semblance of particle trail that was waiting to be followed.

"Deryck?" Kyle's voice shot out. The disturbance was quickly followed by the veteran lantern exiting from the arena, "Till'All?" he burst out with surprise as he came to recognize the stunned White Martian whom turned his attention over, his red intimidating eyes weaving their way into Kyle's with striking intent, "what are you doing here?"

"Your young friend," the Martian crossed the floor, stepping with the sides of his feet one over the other as he approached Kyle, his head tilting strongly to his shoulder the moment protruded his inner arm with his index finger raised in puzzlement, "why does he leave here angry?" his voice was tame, soft and strangely devoid of the deep empowering voice that was a distinguishing feature of his former colleague and mentor, J'onn. He came to a stop a few paces away from conflicting Kyle's puffed up stance, the two were nearly on par as far as height was concerned.

"He's just not satisfied with some of the decisions I've been forced to make for him," Kyle responded to the question with some difficulty in finding the certainty to bolster his words, though he was quite fine in hoping that the telepathic Martian would exert that ability over him and reach into the inner person that he was, "I think he's a bit disenfranchised with the whole heroic duty that Kai-Ro entrusted to him."

"You stand opposed to this decision?" The Martian leaned his head towards the Lantern, his fingers twiddling along his sides as he anticipated an answer he already knew quite well.

"He's much too young," Kyle's voice stepped down into a hushed tone, leaving behind the authoritative attitude that he had with Iota to become more casual, "Just a child."

"You were not much older when you first received your ring."

"Yeah but," he paused in hesitation, "I was never like him. I had the Question investigate him," he shook his head from side to side, pleading for some sympathy, "he's not just a delinquent, he's a criminal…he practically stole the ring," the words quickly followed with the reverberating movements of a scoff. "The ring was built with the Guardians code; I just can't understand why it would bond itself with a child so full of anger and deceit."

"And what reasons were you selected to wield your ring?" The Martians words slipped out in its normal way but Kyle nonetheless gathered the rhetorical if not sarcastic nature of it. He opened his mouth to formulate a suitable response, but he could not work up the strength to support his position on the manner and settled for the slumping of his head in an act to avoid confrontation with the Martian's eyes. "I sense that there is something more going on with yourself," the Martian worked up to a more caring way of speech that drastically threw Kyle off from the depressing thoughts he had taken into, "you have been quite hard on him, this young person. And this is so because you are upset with something, but it doesn't have much to do with the boy…not really."

"Did you come here to tell me this?" Kyle's head raised slightly, just enough so that his eyes may be visible to the Martians.

"No," The Martian stepped back, retracting his body up to his full straightness, "There is something about the boy, there is something in him that I am having difficulty locating…."

"The ring?" Kyle quickly responded with his question, piqued with interest.

"No," the Martians head fell against one shoulder, his eyes focussed in on Kyle's but this time with an unusual openness, a widening state that broke the rectangular boundary to become more human in its orientation, "something more…."

* * *

"What do you mean he can follow me?" Iota spurned the notion the ring had planted in him, that as long as the energy of the ring was in use, Kyle would have no difficulty in honing in on the dispersing of the lantern particles. He had taken to a casual flight, a capability he was giving less and less thought about, nudging his way towards a natural instinct to leap into the air and stay there in refutation of gravity. "Fine," he begrudgingly conceded, "I can make it on foot, don't need much of this anyway," the flat board movement in the air quickly decline into a vertical upright position, the tips of his toes aptly aimed to the earth a near kilometre below which he slowly made the decent to.

Iota had flown to the far back reaches of the city, the region referred to as the eastend where crime was noted for its rampant behaviour. It was away from the modern city structures and their homely vocations opting instead for the traditional decay of wood and stone; it was not unlike other infested regions that spawned around or within the thriving metropolis but unlike the others, Deryck had significant amount of knowledge regarding this particular area, its structures and most notably the real people who ran the region not that he would be recognizable to anyone to high up on the ladder.

When the varied shades of grey, blacks and browns that formed the squared rooftops became clearer, he focussed in upon finding a distant and cold alleyway where he hoped that at least one of his underground resources had retained his positions on the corner. The decrepit buildings, the multitude of abandoned factories, storage buildings and inhumanly cramped office spaces dotted along the coast of the widening river which tore the city in two thereby keeping the monotonous aspects of modern life away from the gut wrenching issues that continuously hampered upon the crime allies with its slate grey waters. Somewhere along this coast, along the flesh drained sands, a lantern had fallen from the sky and from his hand a ring was given to Deryck [Iota #2] and however pivotal a moment this was in the boy's young life, he promptly attempted to ignore looking at the sands of the beach head since it only seemed to remind him further of the dire situation he had become engrossed in.

"I don't need Kyle or his League to help me," Deryck contended under his breath, the conversation with the ring raging on in his head, "I can find that sleaze ball murderer under my own power." The unconventional flying movements of the young lantern resulted in a terribly awkward conditioning for the impending landing. With the Sun having withdrawn behind the sheet of grey clouds in the late afternoon, he was quite able in finding an unoccupied alleyway which conveyed a shadowy like texture that enabled the dimming of his illustrious green shield as he tapped his feet into the open slit between the two buildings whose facing broads sides made the alley what it was. The near six story structures were quite narrow, a spread that was tapping upon a one metre extension. The brick overlay of the building to his right side proved to be a saving grace, scratching his nearest hand along it to produce a force of friction that allowed him to approach the tar cement ground gently. Letting his grasp go, he leaped off from the wall and coiled up his knees while slamming his hands down to maintain his balance. "I know what I'm doing," he reassured himself as he rose up casually to his feet. Within an instance, the green energy forms quickly worked their way around his hands and arms while simultaneously pulling up from his toes to his legs ripping off bits of his boots, gloves and torso which exited into the air as wisps of green particle energies revealing underneath the civilian clothing he was much comfortable with; the dark soft bound shoes and dress black pants and matching collared shirt which had graced over top of it the thick leather like green jacket which he pulled forward from the lapels with his now bare hands. Finally the mask dissipated into air bringing to light his faded green eyes. With his comfort restored and self-esteem adapted to the situation at hand, he took to a heavy step to the end of the narrow alley way to take a look for his man on the street.

"Hey, do you know if Mikail Pacioretty is still running around," Deryck had made is way to the corner of the minor street that broke into an even smaller one away from the coast, a small red brick laid building rested at the edges of the wide brimming sidewalk. The two sides that comprised the back were street size connections but their appearance was quite bleak by comparison to the real road way on account of the chewed up pale grey cement that made up its composition. Additionally, the entirety was enclosed off from the narrow pathways the back building formed by through their nearly connecting sides with chained wired fences that stood at the size of two persons. Over and beyond the fence were considerably larger and better produced than the lone brick structure at the corner, consisting of a solid value of dry construction stone that had applied upon it a thin coat of blackened brown that appeared significantly burned in many of the areas that were not affected by the acts of vandalism.

"The man skipped town," a coarse yet wet bellowing voice broke in for response. Deryck entered the lot aimed towards the lone building where leaned up against it was a simple man whom casually turned his head towards him with a slight nod; an understanding between strangers. Deryck came to a stop a few paces short of the man, standing in the shade of the small building where he dug his fingers into the sides of his waist and took a heavy whiff of the air questioning internally the line-up change that had occurred while he was out and gone with one of the Green Lanterns, a fact he was most certainly unwilling to mention in the presence of old colleagues.

"What happened to him?" Deryck complained.

"Moved onto bigger and better things I suppose," The man responded sharply, his eyes wavering from side to side avoiding the focus glare that Deryck centred upon him, "you wouldn't happen to know much about any of that?" The man was a rather wide and thickly fleshy in his girth with robust lips that provided for a long enduring mile which he continuously flashed at the end of each sentence spoken. He wore the typical wear expected of their ilk, dark blue puffy jacket that worked around his body like horizontally laid tires and coarse grained pants that appeared to only be held in place by magic. Upon his head sat a circular flat black cap that ran its circle around over top of his forehead where it just tapped upon his shady black brow.

"I haven't been around here much as of late," Deryck rolled his eyes away, "I had a problem I was hoping that my old friend Pacioretty could help me with," he grinned.

"Well no need to play games with me," the man mumbled out as he pressured his upper body against the wall to get off from the back wall of the brick building. His eyes wavered in all direction looking to the slumping individuals that occasionally stepped along the sidewalk; it would be foolish for someone not involved in the happenings here to walk around its grounds, Deryck was certainly here for business, "I've been set up as his replacement, I can get whatever it is your looking for if you meet my price…."

"Heh," Deryck scoffed, "yeah that kind of usual stuff is not what I'm looking for; Pacioretty was able to get me some hacked creds a while back, they disposed pretty quickly when the feds caught on, but I could really use some in the short term at least…so as I can start up somewhere else, outside of here" his head wavered around, hesitation working through his mind, "maybe the west coast. I'm not the kind of person to be working the regular blue man's job." His eyes narrowed down and his lips puckered up slightly, "but that's not going to run to well for someone you don't know."

"I've got to know what I'm getting in return," the man bellowed with an insinuating wave of his open hand, "See, I think I got what you're hoping for," he smiled upon retracting his arm to his chest and pulling his fingers around the slit of his jacket's end, working his way into the inside pocket that was on the left side, "one time use, one thousand creds…" he propped up a shiny gold tinged plastic card with a single black strip that ran its wide, his thumb at the back keeping it so in a straight manner, "can't say the feds won't be on you the moment its used, but that's just the risk we take right?"

"I told them nothing," Deryck responded shortly, "I did some time at the detention centre but the feds didn't hit me as hard as I was thinking; Pacioretty always got away clean cause no one in pays in with his clan talks and lives…I know the risks I'm taking with its use."

"Yeah," the strange smile continued with a bit of wobbling in his pacing, "but there's still the bit about meeting my price."

Deryck nodded solemnly, looking away. He swivelled around from the man and clasped his hands together at his waist and looked down at the ring on his right hand examining its glow, "this guy's scum…either you agree with me here or we go through with breaking into an ATM or a bank vault…" he mumbled lightly under his breath, "it's not wrong. I need a place to live or we'll end up on the streets and that isn't going to happen, not under these circumstances…" his voice rose sharply, "no I will not go back to Kyle."

"Boy? Are you alright?" the man reached out a compassionate hand to tap the boy lightly with his sausage like fingers. The tap saw a jolt of energy burst throughout Deryck's body as he leapt from the ground an inch before turning around slowly with his head hunched down to look back at the man.

"You know," Deryck slyly scrawled out, "I could always just take it from you."

"Hey man," the strange person waved up his hands, palms open and free facing Deryck as he back away to get up close the building side, "you know how things are run around here right? You'll be under in less than a day."

"No," Deryck grinned slightly as he let an expulsion of breath that revealed his arrogance, "I don't think that's going to happen…" his hands were suddenly engulfed in bubbles of the vibrating hums of the Green Lantern's energy, the particles circling and pulsating in extraordinary patterns that grew larger as he made his approach to the man whom appeared less frightened and more baffled but nonetheless held his cool. Deryck came to an abrupt stop when he saw the man quickly zip down his jacket and took his flat palm to the right side of his chest with a slap. Within seconds, he puffy jacket had been ripped away and chucked carelessly to ground but Deryck's eyes became enamoured in the patch that sat squarely on a chest pocket, the circular silver badge with the familiar star indented image and eagle with the ominous lettering in the same silver mould underneath.. The navy blue collared shirt had told him everything; this was a police trap.

"Ah come on," Deryck, feeling somewhat stupid, stepped away from the officer casually glancing at the steel twined fence behind him and the tall buildings behind it, "don't you guys got better things to be doing than catch grifters and druggies."

"Don't move kid," The man's voice had become more stern and authoritative as he pulled up a simple black pistol like weapon that was held firmly with two hands. Deryck heard himself and the ring admiring the man's courage in playing the police pick, deprived of the usually armour and equipment that was associated with their department that serviced to fight all kinds of threats such as the meta-humans that officer believed he was up against; had Deryck been one such kind of person he believed that he would ensure that the officer would no longer be breathing now.

"Try me," Deryck spoke harshly with his challenge, narrowing his eyes into the officer's. It wouldn't be too long till the other officers that had been paged would arrive and as such he aptly prepared himself for the possibility. The jacket on his shoulders started to wrap around his physique tightly as the circular orbs of energy around his hands began to shift into a moving pattern that saw the extension of the energy up his forearms towards his shoulders and chest turning the jacket into his distinct Lantern uniform. His entire body became engulfed in the emerald power within two seconds before dispersing away from his body, the excess energy breaking off into the atmosphere leaving its controller, Iota, behind with a ring charged and glowing waiting to for the power of will to wield it.

All the officer could seem to focus on was the angular mask and the rectangular eyes slots which had angled downward conveying quite a menacing intent in his mind and within a split second of realizing the brewing situation he let his finger slip around the crescent shaped trigger, pulling its hammer like qualities to produce the heavy charge of electrical energy that jolt from the nozzle in the form of a vertical circular disk. Iota's hand raised instinctively to block the oncoming projectile even before the sound had reached his ears. The stream of brush energy slapped around in the wave of his hand producing the illustrious shield that remained unshattered when the disk hit against it at the speed of a freight train, bouncing off the surface and flying into air on a curvature that saw the speed decrease significantly as it fell harmlessly to the ground with a roll. The time for awkward stares and relative unease between the two in the aftermath of failure was short lived however as the young lantern quickly noticed the arrival of police vehicles to either side of the brick building attempting to close in his activity to this sparse area.

Iota firstly turned his attention to the officers on his left, a squad car no less that assured him that they were not ready to be in conflict with someone as powerful as he was. The vehicle was roundish in its orientation, a white tongue like flap as its front which followed back into a bubble like top of black with the traditional tinted visor like windshield that circled around the entirety of the front and sides to only come to a stop at the back end where there was a large blank white box the full width of the vehicle which he instantly recognized as the holding cell for transport. The dual axels spanned out from underneath with their ends possessing large circular devices that looked like flat laying tires but operated radically different with propeller and engine like devices within the tubular centre providing it the capability of automated flight, not that they would ever catch him if he took off at that moment. For whatever reason, seeing the cops come out of the vehicle and knowing that they were coming for him was rather offsetting, that all the power he now packed seemed forgotten and placed aside. The tall figures stepping towards him in their full body black suits and white vests appeared to him to be responsible figures of authorities and he no longer found any use in arguing; the ring was triggering something within him.

Iota fortunately did not power down through his moment of self-refutation for the pilot of the squad car on the right was less than ready to give up hope on capturing a supposed meta-criminal that, in so far as he could tell, had attacked his colleague. At top speed, the front bumper of the vehicle collided with his upper thigh but as opposed to the expected reaction of just giving into the force applied to him, the young lantern swivelled to face the impacting vehicle, enlarging his hands with the majestic energy to get underneath the girth of the vehicle and flip it upwards. In matter of seconds, the squad car had turned from weapon to fodder as it flew into the air and crumbled into the decaying chemical factory behind it taking the top of the metal twine fence with it. He took a shallow breath as he stepped back, looking down to his hands as they returned to their normal size. The whole inward facing corner of the building had collapsed within itself; with no boards dividing the tall structure into floors. As such, the light yet strongly robust vehicle sauntered through the structure with no blocking support save for the tall tubular rustic coloured vat that was embedded in the floor and nearly touched the top of the building though such a height was less than recognizable considering the debris that had tapered off. Stones and pebbles, glass shards, bricks of stone and other roofing materials had collapse on top of the large tube like vat, scratching along its sides where it ripped and tore at the metal composition as it piled on top of the police squad car which had broken through the casing to reveal the extract remains of whatever chemicals it once stored, though the fumes that remained behind were of the highest priority since the smashing of the vehicle and sparks generated up from the collapse provided a fuse by which the fumes found ignition.

Iota stood motionless as he saw the events unfold in front of his eyes, in fear that neither he nor anyone around him would survive the inevitable wraith of explosive materials that would soon engulf them. But within a split-second of preparing for his potential death the saving grace of the lantern's just light stepped into the foray viciously slapping away at the car with a magically large and green crowbar that easily pulled it away from the wreckage before dispersing into a wide brim enclosing shield that took to the surrounding the vat as the explosion raged on underneath producing a fountain of black smoke and fire that appeared lukewarm behind the glass of green that was the lanterns shield. The teen lantern quickly flipped his hands to the back side to look upon his ring; it was not active which could only have meant one thing.

"Deryck?" Kyle's clean shout rattled the boy as he felt his upper body collapse over itself as his head gently swayed to the side to look upon the veteran lantern descending at a perfect upright angle towards him; the wraith of the emerald energy blowing through and around his body sourcing the control back to the ring on his protruding right fist.

Just as Kyle's feet came flat on the ground he was greeted by two hard thumping fists at his chest knocking him off balance, taking two small steps backwards to regain composure, "Why can't you just leave me alone!" Iota shouted out as he pulled back from his attack posture, taking to a longer stride behind himself in comparison to Kyle whom attempted to approach the boy with hands raised in a calming gesture.

"Easy Deryck," Kyle worked in with a soft voice to downplay the event, "I don't know if you noticed here, but you almost killed those people and decimated an entire block."

Iota took in quick breaths that sounded painful on the expulsion outward, "I didn't mean too…" he looked over top of Kyle's shoulder with a blank stare, the tame voice he adopted having difficulty being heard over top of tough breaths.

"I don't think you realize what I'm trying to do for you here," Kyle stepped forward, reassured that Iota would not attempt to fly off, "you can't just run off like this."

"Cause what?" Iota snapped back, regaining some lost composure, "you'll just find me again and drag me back to prison?"

"You've been given a great gift here, an opportunity to do some real good for the world and here you are squandering it for personal gain…" Kyle nodded and took a strong step towards the boy, gracing his shoulder with an affirming hand, "why can't you see that?"

"I just want to find the scum that killed my friends, it's all I want to do," Iota looked up to Kyle's eyes appealing to the lantern's sympathy, "Why can't you understand that?"

"I'm sorry Deryck," Kyle responded coldly, "there's nothing more we can do for your friends…until more information presents itself, you're just going to have wait. For now though, there's nothing I can do about the ring on your hand and I'm very sorry that it has to be you but if you want to stay free then you're going to have to follow my instructions…from here on out, we do things my way."

* * *

"Manhunter?" Kyle reached out for his friend. The day was dwindling down into night and Kyle was taking the evening to relax at his new earthly home, the townhouse in a rather polite part of the city. Deryck had darted up to his room at the moment of arriving home seeking seclusion in his room for the terribly engrossing thoughts thereby leaving some time for Kyle further the discussion about the boy with his interested Martian friend at the League headquarters. His hand tapped against the small black crescent shape piece budding out from his ear, readjusting the piece to meet to a more satisfying comfort.

"Kyle Rayner," The Martian's delicate voice stepped in acknowledging the plea for his presence albeit communicable through unseen digital waves.

"I'm going to need to set up some time at the training facility," Kyle dropped his hand and proceeded to head towards the full side wall of the townhouse, seeking some rest from a rather worrisome day, "at the very least, five days a week for three to four hours…perhaps its best I get him some hand to hand combat training, might come in handy if ring fails on him, it always worked well for me."

"Do you not think that you are perhaps moving him to fast?" The Martians dry voice resonated in Kyle's ear leaving to a partial slip into silence.

"I don't think I really have a lot of time," Kyle's spoke out in stress words, "the Guardians were already concerned about the project when the ring was in the proper hands. Legion learnt of it and fought and killed for it, now that's got them even more concerned; who knows what other entity out there who can recognize the ring and its power…he needs to be prepared for that kind of conflict…" He paused, closing his eyes for some tired relief, "I need to be ready, I need to know that he is ready for the worst. The Guardians could call him at any moment."

"Your recent relocation back to Earth has drawn some interest of mine towards your origins in Corp," The Martian slipped into a new topic, "I understand that the lantern rings were constructed with the Guardians codes and would find a new wielder upon loss of the current holder, a model wielder that it found in the sector it was assigned…but from your file, I understand that this was the case with your ring."

"No," Kyle swallowed, "it was nothing like that at all."

"If I may not be out of line," The Martian continued to prod, "could you enlighten me to the exact personal reasons for why the ring had selected you?"

"Personal reasons?" Kyle numbed his lips together and looked down at the ring on his clammy hand, "It was the Guardian Ganthet…the last Guardian of the Universe," Kyle's back leaned up against the wall and gradually began to slip away to the ground with the bending of his knees, "it was his reasons, he didn't even know me…I was just in the right place at the right time," he accentuated, "Jordan had wiped out all of Oa, every Lantern ring save for the one which they made in a last ditch effort to preserve and carry on their tradition…" his eyes hemmed off into the distance darkness of the room as he came to a solid resting position.

"What made your ring so special?"

"It was constructed without the impurities that Parallax imposed on in the central battery," he pulled up the back of his ring hand and played with his fingers, "first of its kind, could work on yellow and didn't require a recharge after twenty-four hours, it just slugged away and recharged whatever energy was used…it soon became the standard for all Lantern rings, you know when the guardians were resurrected through…" his voice trailed off, unable to finish the words that would invoke his past names.

"And what did you think of the ring? You being the last Lantern in the Universe?"

"Well it was fun for bit," Kyle attempt to smile with a gust of joy, "it was so exciting to be able to fly, save lives, join the titans and be in love….."

"But I suspect that didn't hold up for too long."

"No, it didn't," Kyle hastily responded, "It got Alex killed…my having a ring got the woman I loved killed," he hung his head lowly, "man why do you have to bring me back to this. Ganthet didn't leave me with any instructions, absolutely nothing, just the most powerful weapon in the universe and all the enemies that went with it…I just wish I had known more about it, I should have been there for her," he finished off coldly and recluse.

"Her Killer?"

"I wanted to kill him…" Kyle shook his head. He pulled up his knees to his chest and circled his arms around them, "I had the power to do something about it, I was going to make him pay for what he had done to me, to her and her family!"

"And did you go through with it?"

"No, Of course not," Kyle returned rather quickly holding to an acquired hushed tone, "all I could do was try to bring him to justice, do what the hero would do regardless of circumstances."

"Did you bring him to justice?"

"No," Kyle's head wobbled around once more, "at least I don't think so. He's no longer alive now but I had nothing to do with his demise, I wanted nothing to do with him and I suppose I wanted to put it all the in past, forget about the pain that her death caused me." Kyle straightened his neck coming to s stop, "I understand. I mean I always understood in retrospect. It was a confusing time for me, the ring had caused my life such damage but at the same time I was so thrilled that I now had the power to give to her what she deserved, that I could do what I needed to do for her and then move forward with my life, start up as someone new in another place."

"I believe your young friend is now experiencing this same confusion."

"Look," Kyle reaffirmed himself, showcasing his authority in the matter, "you don't understand what this kid is like, he's a petty criminal who expected to make it big in the underground scene, he was all ready to throw his life into this waste…he doesn't deserve the ring, I was nothing like him."

"What happened with Ganthet came to find you?"

"Oh," Kyle sighed, "he wanted to take the ring back. He had decided that I wasn't the model ring bearer…but I showed him wrong and I earned the right to be the wielder of my ring."

"And hasn't the boy shown himself as one who deserves?" The Martian's voice rose for the first time as it seemed to cut off Kyle's words, "you have been so convinced that he will fail to live up to your expectations that you haven't allowed for him to explore himself; you've implanted within him the notion that the ring will bring upon him nothing without giving him the opportunity to show you that he is more than capable as a wielder of the power ring."

"I'm trying so hard to do what's right for him," Kyle's voice piqued up before breaking back down to the soft hush, "I had to watch a close friend of mine die, can you not understand what I am going through here?"

"The boy needs guidance," The Martians voice broke in stern, "this is a problem of your own conscience; you must deal with yourself and help this boy along. There is something very special about him, it would be such a tragedy for him to go on ignored…."

"There you go again about something special," Kyle turned towards his interest, "Kai-Ro said something about that also…what do you mean? What are you finding in him that I'm not getting in on?"

"I am uncertain at this time, my mind is having great difficulty seeing into him…but there is a voice, not the consciences of the ring, but a voice…a spirit waiting to be set free."


	20. Interval 6

Interval #6  
Volume 1. Story 5.  
The Thermostat

_Chronology:  
__Post-Iota #6  
__Pre-Iota #7_

* * *

The eyes of the fiery red headed Iris, also known as The Flash, and her muscle bound brother Jai were well tuned to large, mostly wide in its girth, flat screen embedded in the smooth stone wall where it shined upon it ten separate square sections, five to a row, that shared different images of places and guarded items throughout the XS lab where they worked. "Alright, let's get into panel eleven," Iris commanded, her index finger rose to point towards the panel in question. Aside from her long flamboyant hair, Iris West, the daughter of Wally West, was noted for her height yet strikingly firm limbs which were exemplified in her tight form fitting black one piece uniform with the only abstraction to such clothing being the silky leather like jacket which wrapped loosely on her shoulders with the four abdomen straps unlatched, their metal end pieces flipping around in the air as with her graceful movements. Despite her acquired taste for combat, she kept upon her skin delicately soft which was best shown by her plumped circular ended chin; her oval green eyes curved down in a sultry manner with an understanding that they would never change their shape despite the evident concern, or at least anger, in her voice.

"I'm working on it," Jai hastily responded, distracted somewhat by his tall sister leaning down to the desk with support from her right hand on the flat top which she used as a pivot to reach out across the screen with her insinuating left hand that blew straight by Jai's sight of vision to point at a particular panel in the far corner that was designated as being eleven. Jai was somewhat of an anomaly in his family's history, though not too much of a gradient towards what the Flashes of the past would say is in line with their ancestry; the connection to the Speed Force had granted him an all too well toned physique but he had been long deprived of the usual super speed abilities that his twin sister had developed. As it was then, he was much of a casual sort opting for more informal wear, currently taking to a blue zipped up jacket that was seemingly composed of a thick fabric that wrapped nicely around the large muscles of his arms. He was a man with dark black hair that hung short on his head, slightly slanted brown eyes with a wide chin line that developed on account of his muscled force. Furthermore, with the absence of any abilities that could warrant his application to the hero community, Jai had taken more after his mom Linda more so than that of his father, opting to pursue a field in journalism and computer electronics though he still managed to put much time into the creative outlets his father had developed throughout his time as the primary Flash of Central City.

The two of them were in a rather small room, white on all its walls, ceiling and floors just like the layout of the rest of the XS laboratory; however, it appeared more as shade of grey since the usual lights from above were off thereby necessitating the sole source of illumination as the computer screen which in of itself shot a stun of blue that was in accordance with the security video footage that was recorded. Jai sat behind the lone desk that stretched from wall to wall with depth suitable enough to support the cumbersome key board built into the surface though not quite enough to carry to bulk of Jai's outspread arms. "See…" Iris started, her eyes wavering slightly as the square she signalled out grew to encompass the entirety of the screen, "It just disappears," she concluded. Upon the screen appeared to a stockpile of glass cylinders, very much like that of a wooden wine rack though this was of a more solid metal with air lock seals that pressured the black ends of the foot long cylinders into the sides. There was at the very least five columns with ten cylinders running up its lengths like ladder rungs. In each cylinder there was an obvious dark liquid that appeared to be rather bubbly.

"Yes. We can see that," Jai responded with evidence of sarcasm in his voice. He had set the video footage to run upon a ten second loop that drew out longer and slower showcasing one of the cylinders at the centre suddenly disappear without trace of movements outside of the cylinder itself.

"All these security systems and you can't even get me a clear picture of what's going on?" Iris complained, wrapping her nearest hand around the top of Jai's chair to pull herself down to look upon her brother with dissatisfaction, "thought you said we had four different kinds of optical visions to look through…why aren't we seeing anything?" she straightened up her back and returned to the screen to watch the video loop move on once more, "maybe…a teleporter of some sort?"

"Yes Iris," Jai stated with sternness and functional frustration in his voice as he looked up to his sister with an open glare, "this is the best technology that our father's money can buy, and as good as it might be…I don't think we can work at the level of speed this person was working out." He broke off his contact with her to look suspiciously back at the screen.

"What does that mean?" Iris stretched her uneasiness.

"The radiation grid blanked out any chance it was someone teleporting in," Jai continued with a more mature, rational guided voice, "I think it was someone moving at a very high speed, someone connected to the Speed Force…" he flexed his fingertips against one another and slumped into his chair, "but the only people we know capable of fooling our cameras would be you and Jace."

Jace was also in the room when Jai's conclusion was made, though his interest was seemingly waning from the case at hand, instead focussed upon the events that had happened to him most recently. Irradiated with the powerful UU-2 element, the young speedster had found himself confined to a bed for some time and though still somewhat weak from the whole ordeal, he was back on his feet and decided that time should not be wasted on an unnecessary full recovery; he was ready to proceed with his regular heroic actives and assist in whatever research projects into the Speed Force that Iris and Jai were undertaking. He was standing in a slumped up against the back wall, arms clasped across his chest, nearby to the single door which was black lined around its frame; air locked just like every other door in the building which further added to the confusion since the door leading into the vault where the cylinders of Velocity 9 were stored had not been opened. Jace was quite a tall boy, a normal feature to the great line of Allen's; though it was to his dismay that he would most likely never achieve the beautiful form that defined Iris. With short gruffy blonde hair, sharp brown eyes, and somewhat squared off jaw, the boy was nearly slatted to look very much like the original Allen to have donned the scarlet costume; though for now he settled for his role as a side companion to the current scarlet speedster that Iris embodied.

"Well can't you slow the tape down to give us an image?" Iris beckoned gently.

"I've been working on it," Jai retorted unamused, "but I pretty much have to work it down to the quantum level and none of our current video systems go that low; it's going to take me a few hours."

"Velocity 9 grants its user super speed for a limited time with the potential of tapping into the Speed Force," Jace stated quickly, breaking into the established conversation of the bickering siblings, "and from what I understand it's quite an addictive drug."

"What angle are you working from their Jace?" Jai turned his head over his shoulder to question the young lad under his care, "you thinking that the person whom stole it needed it to maintain his connection?"

"Those were my first thoughts, but now I doubt that very much," Jace's arms dropped from his chest as he stepped forward from the wall, his eyes now examining the video footage, "why only take one cylinder? What was his or hers original source? No…that conclusion has too many false premises and opens up to many questions for criticism." Jace came to a stop behind Jai's chair, padding his arms along the front of his black suede jacket to decrease the wrinkles and down to the matching dress pants, "besides, don't you think we would have noticed another speedster in town…?"

"Then what you thinking?" Iris looked to Jace for a response.

"I bet you it's one of us, or at the very least someone who knows us well," Jace broken in with a strange tone of revelation immediately catching his two care takers off guard, "perhaps our supply of velocity 9 has run dry, or more likely it has been destroyed for whatever reason. In the future, one of us probably needs some of it desperately…" he shrugged his shoulders, "maybe we need to take it back to the current time line and synthesize more."

"I thought we agreed we'd never touch time travel again," Iris placed her hands on her thighs and glared at Jace with her overt confrontation mode taking over. She shook her head, "I don't like where this is going."

"This doesn't mean it's me or even you," Jace returned with a calm voice, "we have to be open to the possibility that it was desperately needed in some unknown time. It could be one of us or it could also be a family member that hasn't been born yet. We should simply synthesize a replacement and move on with our other activities."

"I don't know," Iris responded in affirmation. She turned her face back to the screen accepting the glaring mistake in their security, burning darkly into her eyes, "something about this isn't right."

"Well," Jace began once more in his informative pattern, "who else would know about the serum and where it's being stored? If we want to say that this person somehow got by our security systems, then its best we started to compile a list of all the people who know about our possessions and narrow it down for interrogation."

"It's a short list," Iris responded swiftly. She shuffled her feet away from the desk turning to look towards the door, "and someone we know quite well was just asking if he could have a sample," she headed towards the door with determined steps, a shock of anger on her face though displaced by her trembling lips, "I'm going to get in contact with Robert Atman. I'm sure the government branch he works for has its hands all over this." Brisk shots of air emanated around the black seal of the door upon her hand rubbing down along the small rectangular panel that was bolted vertically on the door at stomach height. The door opened up slightly allowing for her hand wrap around its side and with a small nod to her brother and Jace, she was gone.

"You're acting very strange," Jai's eyes glanced up to Jace before he swivelled back to the front to work on closing the screen snapshot.

"What do you mean?" Jace planted his hand on the desk top and leaned in to look at the side of Jai's face.

"Here we finally have an interesting case, something I swear you'd be walking all over, but you don't even seem to care all that much."

Jace straightened his back, dropping his chin slightly as he closed his eyes, "I suppose I'm a little preoccupied…."

"With what? Don't tell me that you've gotten all woozy in facing your mortality."

"No," Jace firmly responded, "it's not that at all…I've just been scanning the wreckage of the Psion facility for some remnants of the UU-2, but I'm not having very much luck."

"Oh," Jai weakly responded, nodding his head in a positive manner though it was quite evident that his feelings over the subject were quite mixed.

"Nightstar must have absorbed it all," Jace scoffed, "I've reran the global radiation spectrum for the element…with what I've seen Nightstar do I think that even the smallest of particles could be rejuvenates to a full capacity."

"And what exactly do you plan on doing with it all?" Jai let out a heavy breath, clasping a cupping hand to his chin in contemplation, "you know Jace, they tortured her with that…I don't think you realize it but when she absorbed all that radiation, she nearly died herself," he pressed his hands on the ledge of the desk and pushed himself away from it, rotating slightly so his legs came into close contact with Jace, "Her mother Kory had to hold onto her for nearly ten hours to assure that the radiation was expulsed from her body."

"Still," Jace coldly responded, shuffling backwards slightly from Jai, "its-" he suddenly felt himself cut off when a reverberation of movement, a flexing of sort, that extended up from his chest into his throat. His head tilted slightly as he felt his hand down to his stomach, a look of surprise on the edge of his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Jai looked up the young speedster with puzzlement.

"I think I'm hungry," Jace commented of himself.

"That supposed to be odd?" Jai rebuffed with sarcasm.

"I've been out for…what did you say?" Jace leaned in towards Jai, "two days," his hand planted onto his thighs while his head zoomed around the room, "and I hadn't eaten for two days prior to encountering the Psions."

"Jace, that's not healthy," Jai returned with concern, "with your metabolism you should be eating up to six meals a day." Jace simply looked empty into the space above Jai's shoulder, empty is unconcerned, "we could get back to the house; cook something up while we wait for the footage to go into super slow-mo."

"No," Jace responded with a gentle waving hand gesture, his other hand kept down to his stomach for superficial support, "don't worry about me…I need to go for a run anyway, clear my head of these thoughts," he looked towards the door and started to head towards it at a steady walking pace, "I haven't really taken the time to enjoy what this era has to offer…" he paused at the door, eyes drawn back to Jai as he motioned his hand in front of the bolted rectangle in order to get the door to open, "I'll be back to help the investigation…just keep analyzing the video footage." Jai nodded with confirmation to the obvious and then the young hero was out of the room working his way outside at the speed of lightning.

* * *

Interval's boots treaded softly along the black tar like composition that lined an inner alleyway of the city which like all the others, maintained a rather barren attitude to the influence of commoner's garbage on account of the mayoral move to keep all environmental measures under their control. The suit that the young speedster had clasped onto as his own was bestowed to him from an alternate universe, a place out of time where multiple versions of himself, the culmination of every mistake he had ever made, became the sole god of the Speed Force which in the process nearly killed all speedsters attached to it. The scarlet colour of the Flash family were boldly displayed in his shin high boots, the stunted tight gloves that meagrely reached beyond his wrists, his cowl piece, as well as a body encompassing triangular piece that wrapped around his shoulders and aimed down to a point that stopped at his waist where it divided in to a thin lightning bolt design that rode over top of his upper leg joints like a belt. The rest of the uniform held to a straight black that blended quite well with the scarlet; however aside from such a gritty redefinition of the typical Flash costume, the boy was proud enough to maintain the oft considered essential features of the Flash, that being the stylized logo; a circle of white within a black boundary with a shock yellow bolt of lightning striking through from one side to another, as well as silvery circular pieces that connected to his ears with a small yellow metal bolts flaring out to the back of his head. To cap off such an arrangement were square goggle pieces, tinted a light yellow, giving apt protection to his line of vision.

The afternoon was hitting into its closing period, this much Interval recognized with the movement of the distant sun which left in its wake a trail of purple and orange mixtures that were slowly but surely dissipating away to give life to the heavenly bodies above but these such thoughts of beauty fell to the back of young boy's mind as he found himself looking to the polarized region that separated the natural beauty of the world above and the world, which he ran though, below. Thick bands of steel coated the perimeters of the high rise buildings, their make being the support of metallic like structures rooted in cement bases with panels of glass comprising the sides. This line of steel, at least within his mind, seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions, there were few cities that were not holding to this mould and even those whom attempted to break relied heavily upon hard plastics which were generated into pseudo-brick and stone formations that were all too obvious as such upon close inspection. Though considered to be essentially modern in its take, he could not help but find his head mired in thought over the inevitable loss of this 'modernity' that this time will experience when it transitions and develops into the more absolute formations that defined the era where that he originated from.

The cumbersome concrete barriers that outlined the roads blocking interaction from the wide angled sidewalks would soon be replaced with more efficient and simple constructed transparent laser grids that produced a barrier or sorts that induced soft concussive damage upon impact, bouncing back whatever vehicle that would haphazardly crash into it; though it would do well to note that the vehicles themselves were automated to the point where the necessity for such barriers was no longer needed. The black tar like roadways with their simple white light illuminated pathways and lanes, while a requirement of this era's mostly wheel bound cars, were not so much needed in his time where people had come to rely upon public hovering train carts of sorts that travelled in their way along a specific laser controlled outline of the world . But of important note of course were the buildings. The construction projects of his era had encountered a movement towards more classical operations upon easy matter replication of the appropriate materials and tools that made such projects much easier than what was thought of in this century. His home planet of Petrus was dotted with unusually vibrant colours like teal, peach and red; the actual colours of the quarry stones that their replicators had produced. Though he could not deny the fake parts in such a creation developed through advanced sciences, for how much different were these 'matter' composed brick from those fake plastic brick overlays? He did however feel that the natural birth and growth of trees, shrubbery, and flowers in their great colours along the street sides and parks more than made up for whatever was lost by the replicators. It was in this backwards time however that he would be forced to settle for this conception of 'modernity' where he would stare emptily in to the bleak sphere of this world where the only source of true life was its human populace, but even then that was not saying much. The most he could compliment them upon was their rapid and efficient removal of waste.

As his speed implied, it was not more than a second later after entering that Interval was out of the alley way and on a long sidewalk strip glancing at the surrounding structures looking for a cure to the ailment that affected his stomach; hunger. The exposure out of the alleyway could not last very long however, for soon the overlapping images of light that were people, cars, and an assortment of other moving things broke from their blurred state to reach a solid formation. Seeing the awkward smiles of the passing civilians convinced him that he was at fault to stop as he did and so, within a split second, he proceeded to propel himself up the northern run of the sidewalk strip thereby throwing the pedestrians back in to strange rock light forms of blurred light; the appearance he was more accustomed to. When a near mile had been passed over where he sufficiently believed that those whom he had exposed himself to had been lost in his trail, he slowed to a straight stop into the nearest uninhabited alleyway. Glancing briefly back to see that no one stood at the mouth, he twisted and turned at a rapid fire pace which saw the revealing of his civilian clothing wear with the dispersal and retraction of his Interval suit into its gold flash ring, the carrying case that all Flash's possessed.

Jace stepped out from the alleyway, decked now in the casual wear of toe crunching red shoes, black dress wear pants and a simple short sleeved shirt with a scarlet hue that was not to different from the colours of his alter-ego's costume; the smooth black jacket that he had become accustomed to was left behind at home for the sake of making his running suit as aerodynamic as possible…and he had no desire to look to much like his associated mentor, The Flash and her dashing black leather like jacket. He was much more cautious in his workings out to the main road, recognizing that it wouldn't take long till some people down the way would cross along the opening, arching their heads to take a look at the speeding hero. He stepped out backwards with awkwardly high raising knee jabs into the air, an act of bewilderment on his face, wide eyed and mouth ajar.

"The Flash is quite an interesting figure in Central City...she's certainly quite the hero" a deep moaning voice broke Jace to a solid stance on his feet, being squared at the centre of the sidewalk.

Jace turned sharply to see a tall dark man, dressed in a long deep blue jacket with quite wide lapels that glinted white as though composed of a strange plastic like fabric; his slick darkly tinted shoes and pants also appeared to be of a higher quality than that of the casual civilians that walked around him with smiles on their faces as they glanced down the alleyway in hopes that they might catch a glimpse of the hero that bustled the wind around them on their walk. The man had very short black hair, nearly shaved, a crew cut of sorts that brought the attention down to his strictly brown oval eyes. His jaw line was quite embedded into his face, running upward along the sides of his nose making him appear all the more military like his in demeanour, especially as his hands came to clasp one another behind his broad back.

"She?" Jace mused, "I'm most certain that the figure that flew by me was not female in any sense."

"And who would have the ability to make that clarification so clearly at such a speed?" the man smiled politely with a nod of his head, recognizing that an appropriate answer would not be given, "are you perhaps new to the twin cities?"

"Perhaps so," Jace responded in his taken monotone, the act of shock and surprise dropping abruptly allowing for a return to his more comfortable cold and analytical attitude that was most outwardly conveyed in his squinted eyes, "I've actually been here for some time now but just haven't allowed myself to soak it's stable environment, though I must admit that I do not see much difference between this place and the other city I've visited save for their super powered attachments." Vehicles whipped by on the other side of the barrier, causing their noxious electronic noise as they scrapped along the soft tar of the road and drew forth their blinding lights when it became plainly obvious that night was becoming the norm.

"Just be content that it's not Gotham," the voice echoed once more as the man took a few steps towards Jace, looking down at the boy with his own analysis being performed in his head. "Is there a specific place that you are looking for," his hands dropped out to his sides, their large coarse touch being noticeable evident when they came to envelop the circular joints of his waist, "perhaps I could be of assistance in pointing you in the right direction."

Jace once more felt the growl at the pit of his stomach, the mere notion that he was perhaps looking for something to satisfy himself somehow frightened him, "A place to eat," he admitted quickly, "maybe the cuisine here will convince me to stay longer."

"Of course," the man sneered. He tossed out a complacent hand, aimed ahead of himself towards the sidewalk path beyond Jace's backside, "there is quite the small restaurant up ahead, it's a favourite of mine. I was just heading there myself…" he paused to lock mischievous eyes with Jace, "walk with me?" he took an assertive step forward once more, heading along the sidewalk growing ever so closely to him.

Without nary a word or a nod, Jace systematically manoeuvred his feet to turn on par with the man stepping along beside, "I'm Jace," he confided as he stepped along the sidewalk with this acquaintance, carefully dodging the few dozen pedestrians as they conflicted with their movement.

"It's a pleasure Jace," the man responded, "you may call me John Thermos…" he continued on casually as he placed his hands into the wide brim pockets of his jacket at waist level.

"Not a true name then?" Jace looked up to analyze the man once more with his inquisitive attitude.

"No…not at all," John turned his head slightly to see Jace realizing the boy to be quite formidable in height by comparison, he being only a head taller, "It's just that if you're going to lie about any details of one's personal self, it is a benefit to that person and all others to be consistent lest the contradictions be told and the cover lost."

"So I've stepped into an ongoing event within your life," Jace contended, though his voice conveying anything but the interest that was present within his mind.

"So what do you really think of my city so far?" John raised his chin with an arrogant flare of a smile, stepping just as proudly with a heavy clap against the ground.

"I have to say that I'm quite disappointed," Jace fell into a moment of critique that modelled itself as a contrast to John's arrogant posture, feeling some relaxation in his stride in part to having found someone he deemed to be appealing, "from my perspective, this city is all too much a victim of this 'modern' era where what little of nature exists has been ripped up and poorly used on lazy human ambitions, " his voice grew harsh but recognizably lacked the emotion needed to suit his conviction. He lowered his head to watch the steps of his feet as they embarked along the hard plastic composed sidewalk which he had such distaste for, "there's no life here," he stated with blunt sentiment, "this is supposed to be the beautiful twin cities thriving in their collective economy and technological achievements, yet all I see in these buildings and the people here…" his voice trailed off to silence, uncertain of what words would be sufficiently serve his deep thoughts and not be as preachy as he felt.

"You seem to be quite the pessimist."

"I'm all for technological improvement and the development of man," Jace continued in his odd behaviour, "but my concern lies in finding what that all actually means over time…it can't exist in this, not where nature has been reduced to a sub-citizen."

"I don't see that at all," John responded nonchalantly, "what you seem to have against man in this era, it's what I have found to be so beautiful about it, what makes it so redeemable." His hands slipped out from his pockets and rose gently to the air to signify the importance of the building above; that delicate glow of neon and fluorescent bulbs, the crisp straightness of the metal bands which supported the most intricate of glass designs. "What I see is the accomplishments of humanity" his voice peaked up, "the rational human taking control of nature and purposefully moving it towards a future that benefits their fellow person."

"There is something special about the dichotomy there."

"Quite," John chimed in sharply, "but here we are…."

Jace head slipped upward to take a look at the structure up ahead, intrigue snapping the pathways of his mind as they approached the delicately curving arch out of a particular long building ahead. The section of interest was quite strangely different from the squared points of the usual buildings but this was more on account of the particular complex structure that extended outward from the first floor of the building rather than its dimensions which still maintained the rectangular bar formation. A pale grey metal composed inch thick bars that rode straight out from the building behind it, breaking over a metre into the sidewalk where at its end curved sharply to aim to the ground where it formed a wall. In between the spaces formed by the frame was glass that was much clearer than that of the kind that plated along the surrounding skyscrapers, conceivably allowing for the sky to be an excellent source of light for the inner workings of the structure. The side end that the two were facing towards was composed straight clean plate of steel with the more than obvious exclusion being the glass doors that was continuous with the facing angle. Regardless, the not too far reaching side of this jutting out section was still long enough to make out some of the reflection emanating from inside, primarily that of a soft red.

John was the first to reach the door frame, tapping his hand along the small rectangular attachment that was bolted in vertically on the door. He lightly curved the entirety of his body to an angle so as to take a look at Jace, waiting as they both did for the door to slide comfortably in the slot opening that was leading into the primary building at their side. Jace proceeded to follow up on John; both embarking within the facility that hopefully would provide them great relief for their ailing stomach hunger. Jace was cordially surprised by the inner workings of the building, it being somewhat reminiscent of the diners that existed in his own time, though of course with their own brand of individuality. To their immediate left was the source of the soft red glow; red cushioning on top of the full long silver side painted bench like constructs that lined up to face one another in group of twos that along with a decently sized silver coated table at the centre of each facing pair for separation formed a square section all to itself; booths. Eight such formations existed along the side strip, two of which were occupied by a varying number of people whom were applying themselves at the contents that the table supported on its back; but none of such 'content' things could be recognized under Jace's perception of them.

To their right however was a long silver bar top that ran contingent with the eight booth sections. There was roughly twelve stools, silver coated as all other such things were in this diner, with red button on cushions waiting to be sat on and covered from viewable pleasure. On the other side of the bar was an open slot of sorts on the back white wall which opened up to a kitchen like atmosphere on the other side, though of what could be seen was merely metal items and stacked objects that were awaiting transference from one hand to another. The floors were of a decaying orange, sectioned off into smallish squared, a black line of tar in-between assuring such distinction, while the inside wall, moving away from the interior silver side of the doors leading in and out, maintained the distinguished cleanliness of white. Jace watched intently as John stepped towards the second booth ahead of the first that was closest to the door they had entered through. He paused for a mere moment when he had turned to face the table then abruptly worked his way into the first bench that would only allow Jace to see the back of his head. Jace took a heavy gulp in nervousness and then proceeded to follow through, taking small steps to reach the booth where he made himself comfortable in the opposing bench locking face to face with this acquaintance he had made on the street.

Built into the far side of the table top, nearest t to the wall of glass that faced the street, were simple screens depicting in thick blue font the various items the menu offered along with a small snapshot that acted as an icon in representation. Jace took a quick glance back to the opening slot in the back wall to his side understanding that orders were placed through the pin pad and then the items were collected from the slot; an interesting system to say the least.

"I have a few observations," John planted his elbows onto the table top, clasping his hands together at the side of his face to take a look at Jace more thoroughly, "would I be right in assuming that you are quite unfamiliar with the ordering screen but not because you don't understand its function but rather because you don't understand the items that are being presented?" He questioned in an informative manner.

"The information bar holds much of the items to contain meat," Jace responded, eyes glaring at the screen where his finger nimbly worked on it, scrolling through the icons and the details provided.

"Further, the way in which you stepped out of the alleyway," John proceeded with his verbal analysis catching Jace's raised face, "an act of sorts?" his hands drop to flat palms on the table, "I reckon you're not only new to this city but that you're not from around here either."

"I have a few observations of my own," Jace interjected with a wincing of his eyes which when focussed upon John's face never moved again, "your hands are strong and coarse but not from the regular toils of an everyday worker, rather from the continued use of a particular grained metallic materials…I got a glimpse of the straps and holsters when you leaned in to open the door," John grinned as he closely examined his flat palms noting a particular indentation of triangular scratch marks within his palm and the touch edging skin of his fingertips, "I assume that you operate and clean such weapons once a day to stay proficient, but that it isn't something that you want to use but nonetheless are capable of such force under pressure which you are currently under."

"And how do you figure that?"

"For one, you're currently armed…bit odd for someone who glorifies the safety that the Flash provides," Jace leaned his head in; "your clothing is tailor made; no labels or manufacturing mistakes. Very expensive indeed and yet here we are at a low rent diner that sells sub-par food judging by the menu price listing. This combined with your inherent need to check over your shoulder during our walk here leads me to believe that you have a great concern that someone or something is following you and that this place provides solace in that none of your enemies would think to look for you here…and you do know who it is that is after you," he nodded his head with the annunciation, "I'd say that your military considering your style, demeanour and extensive weapons use, but that's not too difficult to overcome in this era, plenty of protection. I'm inclined to believe that you're working outside the law…hence why no plea to the Flash."

"'in this era'" John humbly responded, "and what era do you hail from?"

"You have not offered a sufficient answer to my observation," Jace cut in the moment John's mouth came to a close, "how can you expect me to answer then?"

Jace's eyes slipped upward from John's, reaching above the man's shoulders to the glass door which was sluggishly sliding into its designated slot revealing some troubling figures. "You are quite the intelligent kid," John smirked but it quickly became evident that the time for witty banter between the two had folded and now he too with a generous curiosity desired to peak over his shoulder to see what had brought about Jace's sudden fascination. There were two men dressed head to toe in a seemingly standardized uniform, walking poorly towards their booth on account of the long barrelled, big handled weaponry that they carried in both hands; shot guns of sort that had been pressed in a crisp coat of dark paint that neatly camouflaged into their garbs. Their boots were heavy, no doubt with an interior made of a strong toe crunching metal, while their eyes were covered by tinted goggles that were large enough to cover the top of their cheeks and pull around to their temples all while seamlessly blending into the smooth full face mask; but of most important note was the long coat, the plastic like jacket with the wider lapels that was quite reminiscent of the one that John was wearing. "They've found me," John dropped down calmly into his chair, bringing his head square to look upon Jace whom could not bring his eyes off the approaching figures.

"John," a hushed tone from the lead man came through breaking Jace's tentative glare, "you must come with us." The vindictive order was followed by a swiftly quiet pump of the weapons in their hands; the two of them now standing at the side of their booth blocking John's free run to the exit from his current predicament, not that he would make it far to the other door before getting shot.

"And if I refuse good gentlemen," John calmly replied looking up above Jace at the frightened faces of the other patrons in the diner, their confused eyes and chattering teeth which all the more exuded an atmosphere of enticement that willed them to believe that they were doing the right thing by allowing a man among them to be taken away by men with weapons set to kill.

Within a second's time, the second man whom said no words raised his weaponry to his stomach level while clutching lightly upon the crescent shaped trigger only pressing into action when the barrel's slanted end had reach on par with Jace's open chest. Now, for any normal human, such an act would result in an immediate untimely death; however for Jace, the issue of the multiple pieces of shinny pink laser shrapnel aimed upon him was more a question about when and in what way was he to move and dodge their impact discretely so as to avoid inferences to his abilities. Time slowed down around him while his eyes reverberated in his eye sockets at an unimaginable speed, looking to the shrapnel pelts of the shotgun shell, interested by their frantic movements towards him, the spread of which appeared to splinter off in directions that corresponded to his head; however in a moment's notice, when the pieces appeared to be at an impasse of marvel, he dropped head down, hitting his body against the open seating of the bench beside him where he looked up to watch the piece move at their sluggish pace to break into the soft velvety red coating of the cushion creating majestic blast patters of the white slosh underneath. The perception of time had returned to its normal state and the body of young speedster was given into dead body mechanics, slumping down to the floor with a thud and a rubbing up against the lone tubular support bar for the table.

The front man of the invading black garbed men asserted his strong gloved hand at John's shirt neck line, clasping inside it and pulling upwards upon it forcing John to his feet, "the boss isn't playing around anymore. You're going to give us that chip or make us another one." The second man took to a heightened pace towards the door, ensuring that it open efficiently enough for them to pass through with the sagging body of John whom did much in his power to wrestle back against the strength of his oppressor but realizing it to be of no particular use on account of the shotgun's butt aimed at his lower back, he took the movement of his body as a source of inspiration, in thought of course about Jace whom moments before his eyes was shot at point blank range and yet it appeared as though the pellets of the shell went straight through him tearing the cushion in a multitude of areas. The second man awaiting at the door fluffed away at John's jacket seeing the holsters that carried their armaments which he proceeded to remove with force and add to his personal collection. In under a minute of arriving, the armed men had left the diner with their desired person.

"Someone get some help," a middle aged woman shouted out. A patron of nearby booth, the brunette haired woman pushed herself free of the booth confinement to reach towards the place where Jace had seemingly slumped following a shot to the chest. Her lips trembled and her eyes quivered uncontrollably as she approached Jace's booth. She planted a hand on the table top to steady herself as she leaned down to take a look underneath.

"What's wrong?" a voice questioned from behind her, "is he dead?"

The woman looked back over her shoulder with a look much different from that of the frightened concern that had inspired her to search, instead her eyes had grown to the widest extent they could reach and her mouth dropped loosely, "there's no one here."

* * *

"Alright John," the tough sounding hushed voice snapped John's attention into real time, "give us the chip or get back to that workshop of yours and build us another one."

"What?" John's weakened voice responded, though at a higher pitch that betrayed the one worded question as obviously being a treatment of his acting ability, "I gave it to you, didn't you get it work?"

"The chip you gave us hit off alarms with the federal bureau," the hushed voice of the black clad men returned at a sharper state which enthralled itself upon the fallen man in his possession, "the Queen wasn't happy with the shoddy workmanship you gave us, you got some of ours killed in reprisal…the only people that'd be willing to foot your bill and deal with the crap you be sending," a pause ensued with hopes that a clarification of the situation might sink in, "now you're a dead man Thermos…least you can do is help your fellow man before you go."

"Yes," John responded with a sarcastic flare, "the loss of my life warrants an advantage to all of yours."

John had found himself inside the large stunted back end of a utility truck. The entire inside was decked with a thick coat of pale yellow that blended well around the benches that extended the whole length on both sides of the truck space and to the rectangular table that sat at halfway where John currently found himself impaled against by the strong force of the two men whom had grabbed him. The front end of the truck was somewhat open, two circular topped chairs with the similar yellow backs being the only blockage from seeing the full front of the flat windshield. A single person, similarly clad in the black uniform, sat on the leftist most chair with his hand firmly entrenched on the large steering wheel. Judging by the rushing movement of tires, the velocity at which he felt himself moving and the increasing hum of an electronic pulse emanating from the engine below him, John came to realize that they were currently driving along a highway of sorts. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes slowly as he allowed his head to lay flat on the table top allowing the light panels at the top of the truck to be an irritating factor in ensuring that he would stay awake for the long haul.

"So where exactly do you want us to take you to get what the Queen wants?" the authoritative voice took over John's conscious thoughts once more but he was less than amused with the structure of command that had been forced upon him. He smiled and let out a shot of air in a short diffused chuckle. "No more games John. We don't have time for what you're playing…we've found you. Where is the chip?"

"What if I told you," John's eyes pried opened suddenly as he attempted to raise his neck a little so as to allow his head to lean in towards the assumed leader of the operation to kidnap him, "that there is no chip to collect," his eyes bounced once before his head dropped back down to the table with a thud.

"You would be foolish enough to double cross the Queen?"

"Well, someone was foolish enough to join her in the first place," John calmly responded.

Less than a second after John finished his last word, a sudden shock reverberated throughout the truck back, the driver of the vehicle jittering from side to side in his seat while the persons in the back felt their limbs turn to jello causing them to momentarily lose their forced control over their acquired specimen whom nearly fell from the table to their feet on the silent man's side. "What was that?" The leader angrily spat out his question in the direction of the front hatch where the driver appeared to be going through a crisis of sorts which was perpetuated by the rapid smashing his clumped hands against the dashboard.

"I've lost control!" The head of the driver snapped around to look back his colleagues while his hands twisted away at the steering wheel of the truck with a panic that would not find satisfaction.

The moment in which the truck ceased to conform to the pattern of the road ahead of it was the moment in which John wrapped his hands around the ledge of the table on both sides and held on for dear life. Time stuttered as he felt the world begin to shake and bend around him, a body of one of oppressors falling to the roof when the truck flipped over to its side, crashing in a crunching manner into that of his colleague whom accepted the man's head into his chest. The screeching of metal against the hard formal substance became all too clear a noise within his ears resulting in the imagining visual of the truck's side smashing up against the tar of the highway blowing shards of electric light and paint chips. The tumble finally came to a close, the sound ceasing; John opened his eyes at a sluggish pace to get a good look at the aftermath that had unfolded around him. His support hand, which had been manually glued to the ledge side of the table, was quite stiff and evidently not desiring to move under any circumstance, though thankfully he had found that his closest leg had reached up to join it on the lower half of the table; his last physical command before this unfortunate crashing scenario had befallen him. Looking down he saw the pile that was his two oppressors, unconscious it would seem for the most part, but not out of it well enough to not conceive what had happened and make the necessary moves to maintain what existence they had with John in their custody. A sudden brush of light brought in a wave of confusion in his peripheral vision; it was emanating from the far distance beyond his legs. He had placed too much focus upon keeping his hand and leg in support to be in any condition to look at what had come to save him.

"Sir, are you alright?" Interval's voice stepped up from the entrance way and echoed on the truck walls. John accepted the safety within the speedsters voice and let himself fall to the pile up of bodies with a crunching of vital human flesh upon another, the rib cage of the top most cheesy henchman seemingly cracking under his force, "I've already called the authorities to clean up this mess…but could you use a doctor, I am more than able to get you there in a flash." John flipped around from his side to reach onto all fours and proceeded to turn around to face the speedster whom had successfully opened up the back end of the truck. Feeling the immense drip of saliva in his mouth, he spat on to floor between the henchmen's legs, watching as a part of him soaked into the metal floor; there was no blood laced within thereby assuring himself that the injuries would be regulated to mere scrapes and bruises.

"Hero," John grunted as he made the approach to the open mouth of the truck. He slowly pulled himself up to his feet all while examining the uniform of the young speedster as he appeared, "I'm going to need your help," he opened himself up bluntly. Staring at the Interval, he saw within the boy's hands a square box of sorts with wires flaring out from its sides sparking an incredibly bright blue that made the discernment of the item all that difficult to acknowledge, but it was most certainly something ripped up from the truck's inner workings.

"What happened in here?" Interval questioned under coarse expulsion of breath.

John rapidly pulled himself up into an awkward walk, his legs nearly reaching their capacity for movement, stumbling with a hand outstretched to fall upon Interval for support, "not here…" his eyes wavered around, looking beyond the hero at the highway street and the bright lights that hung overhead, "we can't talk here…" his eyes turned to Interval, blazing through the goggle pieces at the boy's true eyes where he continued in heavy pants, "take me to my headquarters."

* * *

A blustering cyclone of wind brushed along the more grime ridden streets of Central City, the outer suburbs, though not exactly outside the city limits, the objective of the civil government here was to ignore these regions, the places that the Flash recognized as usually being the source of much explored criminal activities. But to Interval, the crime that ran rampant here was merely an accidental feature of an old era where it was common to see hubs of brick and mortar along with wooden panels and structures that now decayed with years of free standing existence. The abandoned railway system, its multitude of giant steel carts and track bars, was within the region; it was the first place he had seen when he had arrived in this era, but having seen it now in two different time lines, its appearance at his side as he ran by it was rather confusing often producing questions over what year it was. "Is this the place?" Interval questioned to the man, John, whom had an arm strewn across the speedster's shoulder while the rest of his body slumped inward when they came to a stop.

"Only the most current one," John rose to his feet while shaking his head back into place; his ears continuing to ring from the volatile movements that happened upon him when the truck took a nose dive against the street thanks the assistance of Interval ripping out the command control box that connected the dashboard to the engine.

"Intriguing." The two of them stood within a wide alleyway, being nearly double those of the ones encountered within the primary portion of Central City and most certainly more dirty than them in light of having avoided the cleansing policies of the mayor. The two large buildings that formed the alleyway with their broad sides facing one another were composed of solid stone though roughly painted over harshly producing a somewhat rigid texture that would surely cut open flesh if rubbed up closely to it; however such potential pains were not a concern for Interval whom stepped up closely to one of the sides and gently hovered his gloved hand along it producing a small smile of content for its solid state of being. The night had fallen over the city and the probable cream coloured walls had tapped into a light blue that the darkness forcibly applied; the openings on either side were rather bleak with a fencing like structure on the other side of a small roadway that separated a stone littered field, and then to the other side possessed a conglomerate of brick laid structures that looked quite decrepit and awaiting for its demolition. Interval's eyes lowered to something of interest, a spot of grass that had broken through the crude cement of the alleyway which was beginning to snap away into smaller rubble; some form of life underneath was breaking through.

"Does seeing such a thing make you happy?" John questioned. Interval's head turned to his innermost shoulder where he saw that John had taken to a knee at the centre of the wall, he somewhat returning with a casual look, "it was four decades ago that this strip was laid. This place was going to have quite the future…but now look at it," he placed his hands on the wall, "it's been lost, forgotten even."

Interval raised his head and took in a deep breath as his whole body turned to face John, "perhaps it's time that the criticism is put to rest," Interval recognized the ease in which John had brought him in, they were more than aware that they had moments before been about to share an afternoon meal though it appeared to go unspoken for such verbal interactions to obvious deductions would be redundant, secondly, the disparity in openness allowed for benefits in futures unknown; the working of their lies into an ongoing story.

John rose up from his position, dusting down the dirt from his knees, "very find then," he coughed briefly, raising a hand to his mouth as he stepped backwards from the wall, "since they have found me then I doubt there is much time for our current debate…" A movement in the wall brought about Interval's attention away from the strange man, an irritating gnashing of grey lines that vibrated in its side to side movement through the bricks which no doubt broke sharply but not into the small chunks expected rather it was self-contained and they more or less dematerialized before his eyes.

"Hologram," Interval commented upon the realization, "I was unaware that such technology was widely available…especially in the construction of hard objects."

"It's not," John swiftly snapped back, sharpening his eyes on the approaching speedster, "I've had time to modify some of Mirror Master's projectors," his hands broke back down into the deep recesses of his jacket pockets as the both of them watched the solid stone structure break away to an apparent entrance way, a solid sheen of steel with a more or less evident line running up vertically at the centre thereby affirming an elevator like opening, "I can't help but tell that you've made further deductions over my way of living," he politely stated upon the slight 'ding' noise that saw the breaking of the door pieces at their central breaking point.

"You're quite unusual," Interval raised his hands to cross over his chest, a tone of authority embracing his tap; "you must believe that I won't be taken easily into whatever is you're doing."

"I'm sorry," John hunched his shoulders, taking the palm of his right hand to his chest, "would a more formal introduction be required?" his voice lingered off but no reaction arose with Interval whom stood his ground in silence, just glaring down in his awkward manner at the man whom had led him here for a proposed safety, "you're not the flash," he scoffed with a laugh, "though I suppose that would be most evident of course, yet you wear her colours and display her logo as though they were your own. It is most difficult for any person to strip a transmission component from a semi-truck without the use of the proper tools, more so when its moving, yet you've accomplished the feat…you are quite new in town," he suddenly turned to head down the doors which had slid into their designated side slots to reveal the inner building, "what name have you embraced for your own? I doubt very much that Kid-Flash worked well for you."

"Interval," the speedster responded, his hand dropping to a more relaxed posture, "but do not be confused by the appearance, we are nothing more than associates whom share a common line of ancestry and abilities."

"I figured you'd hold such sentiment," John responded taking a step into the opening, "I see you as a conflicted boy, smart for your age but nonetheless devoid of any proper morals or values that have defined the Flash for the past hundred years."

"And I suppose that my ambiguity regarding moral contexts is something that you're looking for at the moment?" Interval's voice fluttered between a whisper and the coarse grain of his authoritative nature, his feet however remained unmoved.

John placed his hand on the side where the solid wall of the building still stood, pressing hard enough upon it to pull his head back outside with ease, "The Flash hasn't taken to kindly to your presence here has she?" Interval staid frozen, "if those men were able to find me then the security of the world is at risk, they've found some things that originally belonged to their maker, me. But I've learnt that these people aren't interested in financial gain as it was in the past, a common thing…their plans have been a little more ambitious lately and now it's quite possible that they will soon have a weapon which they will use without warning, without threat." He turned head away from the young speedster, taking a sniff of the air as he saw the clear skies of night, "I don't know if any of this interests you, perhaps you could care less if the world burns so long as you survive…but it's something that I take very seriously," he returned his glare, "and due to some of my more illicit activities which are carried out on a regular basis…it's quite difficult to get the attention of any of the morally defined heroes without facing prosecution as a liar and a complacent criminal." And with the conclusion of such words, John had disappeared into the opening leaving Interval to ponder the current developments within his head.

John was right in his assumptions of Interval's character, the very things that Iris disliked of him and that Jai held the most concern for. He was more inclined towards self-interested goals, usually at the expense of those around him; it was a troubling problem that he thought he had finally gotten over upon seeing the decrepit form of Captain Cold whom attempted to seduce him with power. It was only hours before that he thought about rejuvenating a source of power for his experiments with the cosmic treadmill, but such an expense would impose torture upon an innocent girl and then again, if he had failed in his attempt this time round then the repercussions throughout the Speed Force would be irreparable. He thought for that moment that if his father had been around then he probably wouldn't have become this person, but it had to be the briefest of thoughts for it was in such thinking that his descent into this character had started.

Interval stepped out to the centre of the opening in the wall. Glancing ahead he saw in the distance a circular indentation with a single light source occluded above giving illumination to the circular orange platform that was wrapped in a solid white wall. At the centre of the circular space there was a door that was embedded into the wall and sat directly across from this entrance way outside. He stepped slowly and cautiously inwards, step after step at the crawls of the average people. He found that the platform ahead was in one in a set of three, two others of similar developments being on either side of him upon entering the room. Though the one to his direct right was empty and without lighting, the one to his left was occupied by a large monitor screen tacked onto the circular edge of the wall while underneath was a simple white plastic table which on its surface contained the usual keyboards and attaching pin pads but also with the addition of long and thick wires of various blacks, reds and blues, that wrapped around the table tops and legs before seemingly vanishing into the floor boards; a complex system like that of the one at the XS laboratory and at home, though understandably not as neat. A light shot up overhead giving illumination to the designated computer circle where John had reach for the lone chair, taking up solace in its grey cushioning as he pulled himself in towards the desk to begin his work.

Interval felt the doors close up behind him as he walked along the rectangular floor piece, the circular sections at the front and its sides being elevated plains separated by a single step. The moment the monitor shot up in its striking blue fade, he took some paces towards the computer section so that he could become involved; however just before he could raise his foot onto the platform he became startled somewhat by what he discerned as being the movement of the lone door at the far back. The front of his toes tapping on the front of the step, he arched his head towards the door to see a puzzling expression upon the figure leading out from the door. She was specimen of a too average a height, with lightly tanned skin and probably more youthful than himself which placed her outside of being a person of close bonds to John outside of an acquaintance or friend. Her hair was black and lacy, her chin angled to a point of ease providing a strong base for a symmetrical outline that was best conveyed in her tear blue dotted eyes and tiny flat nose. She wore a black jumpsuit of sorts, enticing her body in a sheen of a thick silky like material that nonetheless cut short on her sleeves and triangular pointed neck line. "Oh hello," her voice clawed out from the uneasiness that ran through her body and up to her through but still kind in its soft tone; it was too difficult to smile leaving her lips to be trembling as they were slowly being inverted into her mouth.

Interval nodded once in a simple gesture of acceptance for her presence but any kindness that was desirable was placed on hold when he placed his full attention on John whom had worked the screen to display a map of the twin cities, a geological creation with varying shades of green and blue that seemed raised upon the screen as though placing the reality of a 3-D environment on a two dimensional screen; it was evident then from this image that he shared the same access to the satellites that the league had granted Wally West's home computer. "John," he blurted out in his serious tone, "are you going to explain the entirety of the situation?" He came to a stop at John's side, crossing his arms in the process as he looked intently at the screen recognizing the contours and hilled regions that represented the real world translation. "You've either got some close connections or you have access to these files through legal means, a former employee of the government?" Interval questioned, understanding now quite fluently that the best method in which to have a conversation with John was to make claims, assumptions and deductions of his character.

"Is that what you believe?" John commented more than he questioned, working his hands against the soft black keys of the central keyboard with an open eyed glare at the screen that imparted the desired information, "NSA, ten years. It wasn't exactly a lucrative career choice…" he let out a grasp of air, gracefully admiring the silence that his momentary stop allowed, "when I left, I decided to apply my skills and knowledge to some beneficial operations, working freelance. I never once judged my employers…whether they wanted government access, plans, satellite control or software developments for illicit and illegal reasons, I was always willing to provide under stipulation of payment."

"Something changed," Interval coldly responded.

"My underground contacts wanted something a little more different than the usual…when I questioned them for more information regarding it I found that they hardly knew anything about what they wanted me to design for them…" he smiled briefly with a slight nod, "I convinced them that the chip was plans for a missile system which they felt comfortable in believing was going to be used for as a ransom plot, which is good so far as I care…."

"But you already put the real chip into circulation?" Interval interrupted.

"Quite right," John confirmed, "so I flooded the market with dud chips and missile guiding systems for rockets our government hasn't touched in decade, but it certainly keeps the lie alive…it's been keeping the underground busy for quite some time," his head curved to look up at Interval, "various splinter groups of the underground have been fighting over the fakes so hopefully the real chips has been caught up in the crossfire…but let's be reasonable, it won't be too long before someone finds it and uses it."

"What's the immediate threat?" Interval questioned abruptly.

"The people who found me were one of the people I supplied a dud too; however I also gave them a backup missile plan…that I believe that it was stolen from them," John slumped in his chair, pulling his hands inward to rest them on his lap, "I've been keeping tabs on all the chips I've sent out and now this particular one is about to go active."

"Where?" Interval strongly asserted himself.

"Grid point X-7," John replied. His hand hovered around the keyboard, zooming out the display of the city and refocusing upon a region well below the cities' limits; southern towards the borders of the desert parts of the continent, "used to be a testing facility for small missile arms…cluster munitions mostly. It's quite a desert; perfect for their experiments…but I don't think they realize what the chip will do."

"What?" Interval angrily chimed in, his eyes scanning the region seeing the deep browns and yellows that composed the topography, interested as he was to the surrounding civilized regions in their grey tones which had spawned around the out dated testing centre.

"It won't give them control," John hurriedly responded, "the missiles there could be reactivated at any time but it could explode in their face or fly off and level any one of the surrounding cities."

"Then I've got to go…" Interval began to pant somewhat heavily as he stepped backward from the desk, attempting to allocate a running plan for getting to the region as soon as possible.

"Make it quick," John looked to Interval with concern, "won't take them longer than five minutes now to make one of those missiles active," John rose up from his chair, taking from the top of his desk a small blue square, "and take this, keep me in contact."

Interval reached out his hand and grabbed hold of the blue chip recognizing its orientation as fitting well into the mobile communication device. Before John was even able pull up his lower jaw, the speedster had already taken to his speed, mastering his molecules in the process as he collided with the entrance doors passing through them with complete ease.

"I think I like him," the girl's sharp witty voice stepped in as she approached John whom started crossing the computer section towards the central piece to join her in looking at the door that Interval had blown by.

"Yes," John smiled as he tapped the girl's shoulder, "he's almost perfect."

* * *

Clammy thin fingers reached for the large metal cone fitting with a rounded point, the top piece section of a long tubular item that sank deeply into the hole that it fit so well; it was a warhead of sorts, its inner working being that of compressed atoms and explosive materials that would surely have a devastating effect upon whatever it encountered. The entirety of a left hand brushed around the curving features of the bullet top, "are you sure about this boss…?" a quivering voice questioned through gulps. The man responsible for the discretion was not much to look at, a thin spindly man with nearly shaved blonde hair that nearly came to blend into his scalp and a narrow drooping chin that accentuated an impermissible frown in his small reddened lips that was ever so unlikely to change. His attire was quite simple, a black long sleeved sweeter with thick inch long cuffs of a more coarse material that dutifully tightened around his wrists making his fingers appear all the more claw like in their movements.

"The Queen killed our head man Wilson cause he brought in the wrong computer chip," A gruffer more tame voice snapped back in response, "I just got this position with his eviction…we aren't leaving the mound till we're certain we've got what we're looking for Dreyfus." The serious man calling the shots was a much smaller individual by comparison but he certainly made up for it on account of his robust muscular physical features that made him a reasonable intimidator, at least so far as appearance go. The pasty brown hair fell flat around his bucket shaped head with painfully shrewish looking eyes just on the cusps of the bangs between a plump button nose, "get that chip in the console, and we'll see if this thing has what we're looking for," he barked, "we just need to see if it operates and if the targeting system is intact."

"Man, I don't like this," Dreyfus commented in his abysmal tone of disappointment as he dropped gently to his knees while pulling up from his right hand a simple silver coated computer chip; a rectangular piece with a long broad side that accurately fit to his thumb.

The chamber room that they were in was quite unusual to a test rocket facility that they had expected, though somewhat smaller in its scope then what they had imagined when they had arrived here. The rocket top was encircled by grated sheets of metal which of its self was a few feet wide and turned in a circular like pattern mirror imaging the tubular portion of the rocket underground. The room in its entirety however was quite squared in its corners but nonetheless rectangular in its complete formation with splashed white walls that were a foot away from nudging along the sides of the raised walking grate around the rocket top. Jutting out from the walls around the rocket opening were connected pillars, two in the back corners and the other set aiming out across the apparent front where the designated boss and another figure stood idly by awaiting for the corrupted Dreyfus to work in hands upon a thick book like computer screen device, firstly placing the chip into the slot that was at its side. The hand held device, though requiring of the poor man the extension of his forearm to be used as a balancing table, was connected to a wire that shot down into the rocket opening, bouncing off around the silver bullet top and into the expanse of the circular crater below.

"It's starting," Dreyfus rapidly pulled at the black connection cord, tossing it mindlessly back at the rocket as he stepped away with the glowing board in his hand, clawing at the grate as he pulled himself off from the catwalk surrounding towards his boss.

"That much we can see for ourselves," The boss nodded his head as he clasped his hands together behind his back and waddled back in forth, his black long coat flowing in the movements provided. Steamy smoke eclipsed the top and rose quietly towards the roof which of itself churned in its mechanical noise and movements, pulling back a square plate towards them all to reveal the starry sky above.

A sudden snapping of the metal catwalk and the sudden displacement of the rising steam quickly gathered their attention but of the only thing they could possible summon from their brief investigation was that something quick was moving and that it certainly was not the rockets boosters. Dreyfus suddenly felt a tight jab against his stomach that possibly touched upon his spinal column thereby depriving him of the necessity of air. His conscious thoughts deserted him and before he could realize what had happened, the board, the all too important control mechanism for the rocket, had been ripped freely from his hands with ease. Within seconds of arriving, Interval had successfully thrown the foolish criminals confidence in their private testing, taking away from them the control board and turning off the propulsion jets underneath. Dreyfus had lost his footing, dropping at a butterfly formation to the ground grasping his stomach in pain as he shot out cold scoffs at the wind to catch the lost oxygen. The lack of the rumbling from the should be moving rocket pulled his attention upward to look upon the heroic figure that had knocked upon him.

Interval stood upon the catwalk now, left forearm carrying the board on its lap while being clutched at the top with his fingers. His right arm bent outward at the elbow allowing for his hand to collide along his waist which along with the scowl on his lips made up for quite the intimidating character regardless of perceived biased feelings towards his age. The whisking smoke that once vibrantly espoused out from the hole was now slowly falling back to its source, crushing along the catwalk and around his feet thereby providing the a dramatic appeal to his sudden arrival. "Many leaders have lost battles and wars because they thought it wise to remove their higher ranking generals and replace them with the eager cadets who fell in line with party policy. The lack of thought these people present is usually the source of their loss…" Interval flexed his left forearm down dropping the board with a crash to the floor, "I don't suppose your crime syndicates are faring much better in recent times. This isn't the chip you're looking for," he raised the silver piece in his right hand, "and for your stupidity you've almost crushed yourself under a small mountain of rubble."

"I reckon that you underestimate us new men," the calm leader asserted himself towards Interval with a strong step, "and that you're the one who is too eager in your pursuit for your heroic adventure." The man winced his eyes, crunching the tops of his nose which resulted in the flaring out of his nostrils, "Vigilante…" he called out in a commanding voice that broke his gruff tone clean as he stepped back in the room, towards the shadows where the starry sky did not reach, "I certainly hated your kind when I was just a thug…and I'm definitely not going to allow it while in charge."

The spitting of the leading man's voice grated Interval's ears conjurring up in him a degree of anger that would only subside if he be allow to pummel him silly. Of course, the man was not the one expecting to fight rather the flexing muscular person behind him was keyed in as the current threat of interest. Of this foe's most interesting features was that of a balding helmet which encapsulated the entirety of his face which proceeded to create the illusion of a tall face and a squared muscular jaw with the application of a large 'V' of strongly tinted red glass that rid up to the side of his head just over his the region where his ears stood and angled down in their fashion to the straightened line where his chin assumingly was. His entire body was bound in a sleek black fabric that appeared thick and coarse just from sight alone. The abstract features to such a bleak design were raised white lines, forearm biting gloves, and holster pouches that dangled from the small inch wide straps that circled around his shoulders and crossed his shoulder blade in a single bar. A single thin line ran vertical from his waist band to his throat with four additional lines running out from his abdomen at curving angles upward. Within moments of having analyzed the character declared to be 'Vigilante', Interval felt a stern kick up against the bottom of his chin. Within a split second he quickly realized that the Vigilante had taken a dive towards him, throwing his legs up at his face as a conjoined pair that hit him hard in the course of doing a flip. The Vigilante must have had superhuman strength for the kick resulted in him being tossed upward from his feet and towards the opening out of the small facility. Within a second of looking down, he saw that his current enemy had landed the flip quite easily and had already made another lunge at him; arms raised and prepared to grab hold of his body. Realizing where the push would take him, the speedster raised his hands and waited patiently for the inevitable conflict that was coming his way.

Interval's backside smashed against the flat metal top of the minor rocket testing facility. The slam and consequent rumbling of the antiquated metal alloy really set the tone for what he was expected to go up against. The surrounding desert like region was like what John had hoped to convey in his satellite view of the region; however it was not too far out from the civilized world, glances in either directions revealed the clarifying breed of lights that arose from windows on the high levels of skyscrapers and space modelled spires. The white metal boxes in their large trailer like design, which presumably housed their own cluster munitions weaponry, were positioned in a near square formation, their sides deeply sinking into the orange sand which in this light however produced a very distinct purple hue that was unappealing to the eyes, though the minor patches of intertwining grass patches and weeds often distilled whatever nausea might be formed. Interval sluggishly began to rise up from his fallen position, using his hands for a wide support in his ascent, slow as he was as in part to his plan to deal with this rival quickly and efficiently.

Vigilante had taken to a startling fast run along the top of the trailer, taking a long lunge over the opening with an elbow crooked down and ready to smash into Interval's chest upon lifting. It was in this moment however that he had realized that he played into Interval's trap of sorts, that despite possessing some extraordinary skills, strength and agility, he was just not a match for a speedster that could move and think over ten times as fast as himself; unfortunate as it was, when the fall to the cold steel of the top was unavoidable now, he found himself forced to admit to himself that he had overestimated the young Interval whom he had assumed to be rather new to his role and below the capabilities of the Flash whom he could routinely take on a regular basis.

The slam of the vigilante's body was quickly followed by a quick and strong reacting force that prevented his rising back up. He grunted and tore out with his hands, but the force of Interval weight on his back, hands on the top of his head, continued the compression of the side of his head making even the most minor of movements less and less feasible; the amplified strength nullified by the continuous vibrations that Interval was enforcing . Within twenty seconds of the pinning, he finally submitted to his current situation and let his muscles relax, "Haven't we had enough of this? Can't settle for a fair fight can you? Always got to end it quickly," the sudden arrival of Vigilante's voice snapped any ambiguity on such abilities that Interval had already formed of him. It was a sort of voice that was strongly influence by an electronic recording fed through water, "Well let's get done with it, I hate hearing you gloat as much as you do!" his voice reigned in with a tone of anger.

"We've encountered each other before?" Interval questioned in puzzlement, raising his back somewhat while his knees remained clamped down on the Vigilante's back, "you were fighting the Flash?"

"The Flash? I haven't dealt with the Flash in almost a year, but it looks like her posse's riding me hard anyway," Vigilante snapped back, "guess that chip you got from me was a dud too."

Interval started taking heavy breaths, uncertain of the concerning thoughts that roamed around in his head, "I've never seen you before in my life."

"Whatever," Vigilante responded with the loss of enthusiasm for his perceived death. Interval rose up his head at a lightning speed that stretched the muscles of in his neck which was followed by the precise smash back against the white top producing an unimaginable crack on the forehead plate of his helmet. He let out a saddened moan; alive he was for the time being.

Interval slowed down to his normal physical configuration, taking steps away from the fallen body of vigilante and heading towards the opening to take a look within. During his walk, he rose a hand tap the side of his head, "John," he called into his communicator. He stopped at the ledge and narrowed his head to look down at the silver top of the rocket which he marvelled at as he saw his reflection, "lost the fake chip in the rocket crevice; however, since it was activated recently I wouldn't be surprised if it probably melted in the fumes, not that it matters anyway." He rose his head up suddenly and glanced around the serene desert place which gradually led his eyes towards two figures making a quick dash towards the most northernest town leaving a small trail of sand in their wake, "I'll finish up here…but," his heart grew heavy as his voice dropped, "we'll have to talk about this later," he started to stutter, "I've got something back home that I need to deal with."

* * *

"I swear that we had nothing to do with it," Robert Atman spoke with bewildering attitude. He was a tall man though quite less of so in comparison to that of the lean and towering Iris. His usual vibrant short black hair, bushy eyebrows, oval blue eyes and pristine toothed smile had fallen sullen on his drooping face in light of the accusations brought against him or rather the branch of government he worked for whom a few days before had questioned for a capsule of Velocity 9 for experimentation. Even his luxurious three piece black suit appeared less so in the slump of his shoulder.

"Are you absolutely certain?" Iris leaped in with an angry outburst.

Robert's eyes began to waver, his focus turning to the ground in avoidance of the stares that followed him around, "I'll have to check my sources…" he rose his head back up and attempted to consolidate his considerably noble charm though retaining a great deal of seriousness to the discussion at hand, "I had nothing to do with the theft personally," he concluded with an affirmative nod, his eyes locking upon Iris's near rage filled eyes.

Iris had brought Robert to the security room of the XS labs where Jai had tirelessly been working on the acquired footage of the stolen capsule, slowing down the video at an increasing rate so as to acquire the source, the figure, which had spontaneously appeared within the underground storage vault and was out again in a split second without setting off any alarms; a feat that could only be accomplished by a speedster. The large screen with its eerie blue glow was sole source of light throughout the small security room, Jai sat freely at the chair behind the desk analyzing the simple image of the capsule suddenly disappearing, running the tape back and forth slower and slower to the millisecond.

Iris and Robert stood on either side of Jai, likewise interested in the story that was unfolding on the large screen. Iris had her hands clasped against opposing forearms, crunching her luxurious black jacket up to her shoulders, ruffled in anger over the mere possibility that their government contact had turned on them, somehow, someway. "What have you got Jai," Iris planted her outer most hand on the desk top, leaning forward and around the chair to look at Jai.

"I'm afraid it's not much," Jai responded in cold sentiment.

"What have you found out Jai?" Interval's sudden appearance pulled the concern away from the cowering three to the back of the room where the young speedster had forced himself through the door through the breaking down of his molecular structure. He was blustered and panting for air as his body was rapidly regaining its solid form. He flipped down his cowl revealing his civilian identity, "did you get a clear image?"

"Why are you so suddenly interested?" Jai turned around on the pivot of chair, a single eyebrow raised in curiosity for the sudden change of his young friend's interest in the case that had consumed Jai and Iris entirely since the moment it all started.

"Just show me," Jace asserted a step towards the screen. Jai suddenly switched back to the desk top without a moment's hesitation, working the keys of the pin pad to pull up the best acquired image from the footage. Iris and Robert once again turned their attention to the wall bound screen, straightening their backs and narrowing their eyes upon the screen for the information.

"That's the best I can do," Jai pulled his hands away from the desk and slumped in his chair, a look of relief passing throughout his face.

"Is that Jace?" Iris questioned with puzzlement, her mouth losing its closing strength leaning towards a state of openness. She tilted her head slightly to her inner shoulder, looking back at Jace with saddened eyes, her lips pulling back together when she realized the implications of this development.

Jace caught her eye and they held it there for a time much longer than what super speedsters usually required to access and analyze. He bit down lightly on his teeth while his shoulders slumped, something was clearly wrong and there was nothing either of the two could do about it.

The image showed a figure, a bright white one at that, working in full stride with a hand outstretched for the capsule at the centre of all the others on the rack. It was of a small height, understandably on par with Interval, even seemingly matching his physical orientation, though details were still quite blurry on account of the real speed that the being was travelling at.

"So, guess we should be expecting some problems in the future," Jai reasoned nonchalantly, "guess we should ignore this till the future event presents itself," he sighed, "this happened way to often when dad was round…."

"See," Robert threw out a hand towards Iris in some disgust, "we had nothing to do with it."

Iris however appeared to have little interest in Robert and Jai's relief, more so concerned than ever about what horrible event in the future would permit Jace to time travel to the past to retrieve a cylinder of the speed inducing serum, "Jace," she nodded, "you're not planning on time…" her voice trailed off weakly. Jace however looked at the screen with tired eyes; uncertain of what this could possible mean if it was in fact him. But for starters, the interaction with Vigilante certainly opened up another premise that he originally sought to disprove.

"That's got to be Jace? Right?" Jai snapped his head from side to side to look to Iris and back to Jace.

Jace stepped forward and expulsed a heavy breath, "is it?" He suddenly grabbed his stomach and close his eyes under the paint that was crawling up through his stomach.

"What's wrong?" Jai questioned as he along with the others found themselves stunned by Jace's break down.

"I still haven't eaten anything."


	21. Iota 6 Part 1

Iota #6  
Volume 1. Story 5.  
The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Part 1)

* * *

A tall and lean gentleman stepped casually along the brightly lit corridor, a strong smile formed upon his narrow head revealing a multitude of perfectly lined teeth. His cheeks curved in tightly to a sharp yet rounded off point which accepted the flapping of his bottom lip further exemplifying the boomerang like shape of his sneer which played as a vapid giggle reaching up his frail, thin body. His nose sprouted out from the centre of his slanted oval eyes like a needle while his pencil thin brown eyes brows hunched over their designated places easily blending in with the slight yellow glint that formed within the white yolk around the irises. His hands were deeply entrenched in the large side pockets of his light brown trench coat that stretched down to his knees thereby blocking the full view of his well strung black suit. He stepped around in his dark leather shoes, tight as they were bound tightly to the arches of his foot and toes and circled underneath the bulb of his ankle; they tread softly under the man's small weight, working his way along the clean white linoleum floor.

The lower portion of the long and straight hallway was of a pale green, near teal, while the design of the upper portion of the wall continued the tradition of the floors in having a pristine white appearance which seamlessly cornered into the ceiling where a set of evenly placed horizontally lain panels shined soft watts of light. Though the numerous solid steel doors along the walls at distancing metres were no doubt air locked and sealed, the place still had a heavy aroma of formaldehyde. Of the most striking detail of the lonely man walking down the hallway were the bandages that wrapped tightly around his head, straddling his forehead and then stretching back behind his head leaving very few spaces for his jet black hair to poke through. It had been a few weeks since he had survived the confrontation of a crow bar to the back of his head, but now with a certified bill of health that stated he was able enough to walk out on his own accord, Rotund was quite pleased to say that he had survived his hospital visit.

"I'll be keeping a steady eye on you from now on Rotund," a deep voice broke through to Rotund's consciousness just as he was pushing through one of the two heavy steel tinted doors at the end of the hallway. With the bleak grey door slightly cracked open, Rotund leaned his head forward to look for the source of the voice; a tall dark gentleman, muscular to say the least with a dead seriousness being conveyed in his dark brown eyes. The wide strength of his chest continued upward to his face, devoid of any hair or striking features, which had bulging cheek bones which circled outwards with its thick flesh before clasping down tightly to a squared off jaw. The man had a straight stone face with a heavy black brow that rose to sit upon rather large rectangular glasses that were tinted to the finest darkened hue it could reach. In a long navy blue jacket, black heavy boots and matching gloves, it was not difficult to ascertain the man's line of work.

"Yes detective," Rotund returned with a smile, stepping freely from the door on to the cement platform just outside the door. He analyzed the small four steps down before turning back to face the menacing detective whom stood completely still in front of the other steel door which had been untouched by the spineless criminal, seemingly staring outward, blankly into the distance, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Your friends can only spring you so many times," The detective curved his head slightly to his inner shoulder to take a good look at Rotund, an obvious glare of intimidation held behind the glasses, "at some point they'll have to start believing that it's just not worth the effort…and when that happens you can be certain I'll be right behind you."

Rotund took a heavy sniff up his needle nose, turning to the opposite direction as soon as he felt that their eyes had met producing an exceptionally awkward moment in time, "I know," he chattered lightly through his weakened jaw, "but that won't be today," he shook his head from side to side and look at the detective with his greedy tooth filled smile, eyes filled with contempt, "there's just too much work out there that this world needs from me." Rotund scrapped the palms of his hands against the side of his jacket, ruffling the wrinkles free as he proceeded to take the next couple of steps down the stairway, his chin raised in an arrogant manner upon stride away from the steps. It was not long till he was deep into the parking lot, keen on finding a long black vehicle that was awaiting him.

The detective, at least in so far he claimed, placed his palms over the front of his waist line as he gazed into the distance, watching as Rotund, that devious criminal, step into a running long sleek black car. He let out a long withdrawn breath as he watched the car distance itself into the corrupted world before he pulled his gloved hands up to his face, rubbing down on the skin surface with the tips of his fingers. Strangely, the thick coating of skin began to sag, deform and slip away from the defining skeletal structure; the eye lids and cheeks most especially sloshing down over the features that normally kept them in check. It was not long till the skin was reduced to a piece of rubber that possessed some pretty uniquely realistic features. A flick of the wrist and the mask slipped out from his fingers landing at the side of the stairwell where it simultaneously began to turn red and melt as though exposed to intense amount of heat. The real detective underneath the former guise hunched his shoulders, his face assuming an image that lacked eyes, a mouth, and only a small resemblance to where a nose should be. He was of much fairer skin which stretched throughout the entirety of his skull, "we'll see," a mysteriously deep echoing voice seemingly generated from him. He rose up his hand and placed upon the top of his head a blue coloured fedora; there were still some Questions that needed to be asked.

* * *

The next doors that Rotund shoved his small mass through were fortunately a lot easier for him, a simple push and both of the thin doors bent back on their bolt hinges, though what this set of doors led into was more of a meat packing house than that of that of the quaint hospital he had been staying in for some time in recovery. He was eager to be getting back to world of the conscious and held a fresh smile on his face along with the newest addition of a wide brimmed black hat to keep his head bandages from causing too much of a fuss when viewed. The room was wide and straight holding near to a square in its orientation. While there was a set of doors where he was now passing through, there was also to the adjacent wall a single door, much the same composition as the dual set; however it looked as though it was rarely opened. The lights were small bulbs encased in a cone like socket and dangled from the not nearly high enough ceiling. The floor was quite a chewed up piece of concrete and the walls were of an unappealing teal hue, but of such things proved to be irrelevant in light of the bigger picture which was at the centre of the room and as such immediately drew his attention. "Cameroon…" He stated with a jeer, throwing his hand hands out to the side with excitement upon seeing his old friend, "thanks for coming to my rescue my good friend," he palms slapped against his sides.

At the centre of the spacious room was a steel table, so broad that it required not just the traditional four pegs at every corner but also the attachment of additional pegs at the middle, the sides and the in-between all the tables at the centre. Several similarly designed chairs, though maintaining the simple four footed design, sat along all edges of the table, all empty save for one which was drawn near to the wall on Rotund's right side, opposing that of the wall with the single door. Sitting in it was a hulk mass of man, easily out classing Rotund physically in every way. Bald, clean shaven, strong brow with fluttering large oval eyes; all features that could be used to describe the man's serenely beautifully dark tanned face as it turned to face down the incoming Rotund. The cuff lines of his luxurious suit was crusted with a golden brim, his dark expensive fit jacket holding tightly to white pinstripes that ran vertically down his chest and abdomen, at the centre was a silky black tie which would assuredly glint of a radiant array of golden flakes regardless of what form of lighting was provided; he was most certainly a successful man in his line of business, more so now than what Rotund was. "Mr. Rotund," the deep long voice dribbled out from Cameroon's lips. He looked across at the approaching Rotund and nodded his head up and down, focussing his eyes on every facet of his body, "it such a pleasure to see that you're doing very well…" he turned away and rose his chin, tilting his head back, "physically for the moment anyway."

"And you're looking sharp," Rotund shook his head awkwardly around on the pivot of his neck as he came up close to the table and planted his hands on it upon reaching. His shoulders hunched over top of his head, "nice suit…" he said softly, gawking at the fine furnishings that encapsulated his old friend.

"You like?" Cameroon smiled a stainless tooth grin as he stretched his arms across the table, flexing his fingers into fists and back again at random intervals, watching as the fabric of the cuffs and sleeves stretched along his forearms, "I've got men and money now," his eyes fluctuated down from Rotund to his wrists where the gold shine entangled his perception, "power…feels like this is what I've been working up to ever since I started," he looked back up to Rotund with a cheeky smile, blowing a hot beam of steam from his nose, "playing in the big leagues now, just like I've always planned."

"You get the chip in the package I sent you?" Rotund snapped to his question.

"Most certainly," Cameroon relaxed his shoulders, drawing back his arms to cross over top of his chest and rest lightly on his lap.

"Excellent," Rotund concluded. He pressed hard against the table and rose back up to a full straight posture, "that kid Razzi snapped on us, guess that means that John Thermos was the defector…whoever he is," he dropped his head to his shoulder and looked to Cameroon for a reaction but the heavy man had his head knelt, focussed upon the steel sheen of the table, "he was the one whom ordered Razzi to collect the chip under the pretence of getting involved in the bigger picture…you've taken care of him right?" Cameroon continued to be of little action, "what was it doing at a freaking car garage anyway?"

"Apparently one of the makers discovered what it was going to be for," Cameroon started up after a heavy breath, "didn't like what the plan was entailing…so he hid it at his uncle's parking garage, of course it's apparently quite difficult to keep secrets from the Queen…."

"You don't seem too terrible amused by this victory," Rotund stepped back a bit and looked down unusually at his seated friend.

"I'm not," Cameroon spat out. He turned his head up slightly and looked over to Rotund, "a parking garage? You couldn't use your head till after you got it bashed in?" he rose up straight abruptly, cupping his fingers around the table ledge, "The chip was a dud," he boomed from the bottom of his lung capacity. Silence soon engulfed the room leading to an unusual intensity that left Rotund legs shaking lightly under pressure, "the whole story about the maker having second thoughts and storing it at his uncle's garage…it was all bogus, just a circle that the real chip holder put us all through."

"Ah," Rotund let out a disgruntled moan in dissatisfaction, turning sluggishly in a full circle, jacket fluttering in the rotation of wind that his movements created.

"It's a stupid story really," Cameroon continued, "I'm surprised our bosses jumped on to it…you should be thrilled your walking now, would suck to be killed by some kid for something that couldn't be used anyway…" he sniffed, "the Queen ordered some hits on some of our older friends," he scoffed but did a complete turn of emotions while he began tightening up his tie, "it was a bloody massacre but it brought me up to the top."

"What's going on?"

"If I was you, I'd be lying low," Cameroon turned to Rotund with an insistent stare, "this Queen character is very sharp when it comes to managing the resources available, if you know too much about them don't be expecting to be able to walk off again as a living man."

"I don't even know what the chip does," Rotund angrily spat back.

"Doesn't seem to matter," Cameroon stretched his sympathy, "Quiddity didn't know dick all about the supplies he was shipping across the country but the minute he walked off the job," he crushed his open palms together and rubbed them across one another in the opposite direction, feeling the burn in between, "they gutted him on the spot…course, no one saw anything…dude was just fried."

"I want back in," Rotund jutted in.

"Are you sure?" Cameroon sharply swivelled on his neck to look up at Rotund's eager glare as he planted his hands back onto the table top and hunched up his shoulders, spindly nosed aimed down, "cause I've been hearing some nasty things."

"The Queen?" Rotund stood back up, stretching his back out to full strength, "you got your conspiracy mill running again."

"Can't talk about this stuff in public," Cameroon glanced from side to side before returning his attention to his friend, "these voices, they be saying that the chip is used for something massively destructive, government black ops stuff…ransom right?" he waved out his right hand politely with an uneasy glare.

"Thought that what we'd be going for," Rotund played along.

"We was going to be given all this power with these new control weapons, much different than them nukes," Cameroon continued, "the underground was going to surface and take over and the governments were going to foot the bill…this was going to be really big," he shook his head up and down, all giddy like, "but they're not going to be doing that," his enthusiastic movements stopped suddenly. He shook his head from side to side, "this Queen character…the voices say that she's actually planning on using whatever it is that this chip does."

Rotund tipped his eyes to the ceiling and licked his lip, contemplating the information that had just been relayed to him, "can't be all that destructive then, can it?" he concluded in his nasally.

"I still don't know what it's all about," Cameroon clasped the sides of his body and rocked back and forth on his chair, "I was thinking all of this morning that maybe this story about the chip's creator having second thoughts has a grain of truth to it…."

"Whatever though right?" Rotund snapped back, "you've gotten all the power that you've dreamed of…what are you now, division champion in this region? If the Queen wanted you blinded from any truth, she certainly has succeeded…." He clenched his right hand to a fist and held it up to his chest, "just keep throwing power at the underlings and they'll keep lining up till everyone ahead had been killed and they're the first in line…I want to be the first in line this time, this is the best chance I got."

"Have you not heard a word that I've spoken?"

"It's just same old you spouting off rumours and myths," Rotund concluded, "you've been paranoid for years buddy…ten years ago we working for more mysterious people…I don't know if you remember but we were Two-Face's flackeys and we didn't even know about it till the man was back in Arkham…."

"This times a little different man," Cameroon appeared to try and calm himself down, "Don't you see that I'm in power now, like I really am this time," he gawked, "but that just means everyone ahead of me is dead or overly complacent in fear of death. This Queen person…they say she can get into your mind…that she can shape shift and become anyone…Anyone!" he reasserted.

"Now you've really hit the bottom there man," Rotund shot back, "we don't do no work for the super populations, someone in the upper ranks would have noticed by now and we would have dropped out long ago."

"How do we know she and her crew haven't just assumed their identities?"

"Well then why haven't you done anything then?" Rotund openly questioned with scepticism.

"I don't want to be the next one to die," Cameroon espoused out in certainty, "I just got up here…I'm going to have to just hope that we be holding this rock for ransom and not destroying the moment its ours."

"You're being over analytical, it's just superstitious nonsense that these low level thugs have been sprouting out for years, anything to make their boss sound bigger and badder than all the others," Rotund spoke in quickly, "this isn't like the first time that someone's gotten command of the underground and used it to threaten the world…this'll just be another passing period in history, but it's certainly not one that I'm going to be let out of…not this time," he let out a soft cough and pulled his hands together at his waist, "so what do I got to do to get my membership back?"

"Me along with the rest of the mid-class boys have been ordered to find the real chip," Cameroon calmly responded, "you get your hands on that chip," he glanced up to Rotund, "I'm certain they'll have some good things in store for you…but you do know what happens if you fail?" he returned to a deep pit of concern.

"Yeah man I get it," Rotund responded, "just got to find this John Thermos guy…but first man I've got some personal errands to run with the peeps whom sold me out, can you lend me up the supply?"

"Most definitely," Cameroon responded, "what you got planning in that broken head of yours?"

"Revenge…they just be a bunch of kids, but they should know better to be messing with me on a bad day."

"And be careful," Cameroon caught Rotund's eye at dead centre, "you may be my man on the field at the moment, but they'll be sending others out in storm to find this guy…watch your back," he grinned, "they all want to be in the Queen's good graces…be the first."

* * *

"You're going to have to focus a little more," Kyle's voice slipped out softly, tapping closely to a whisper.

"I'm trying!" Deryck shouted back in response before sharply dropping to a low grunt, "this ring just doesn't want to do it!" The teen was quite muscular and intelligible for his age; features of his being that were acquired through years of hard illicit activities for the not too legal minded. Prior to meeting Kyle, he had plans, maybe even dreams, that he would achieve quite the reputation in the criminal underworld as a strong man with a work ethic that made him an exceptional asset in any endeavour…but now he would have to suffice with a more stable reputation, a status that was quite the opposite of what he had hoped: that which was embodied in the role of a super hero. And it wasn't the cruelness of streets or the evil intentions of the people he had met that convinced him to pursue this end, but rather the bestowing of a ring, a Lantern ring no less, powered by a majestic emerald glow which in its pantheon and mythology had come into the possession of the Universe's brightest and strongest seekers of justice…so be it strange that this ring would reach out to him? Perhaps it's because he was special or more likely, as he had been inclined to thinking, it was because it held the status of a new breed of self-conscious thinking rings which when mixed with its overwhelming temperamental attitude sought out a likeminded person with whom to share its gifts; either way, the answer to the question was a mere side quest at the moment when taking into account the activities unfolding in the living room. Under Kyle heavy handed instructions, the teen with the lantern ring felt himself forced to work at the highest peak of his mental energies, aimed towards the green construct of light he was building ahead of him.

"You're just going to have to put a little more effort into it," Kyle's voice fluttered in once more but this time much more coarse and gruff than his previous statements; much more forced.

"Don't you not get me?" Deryck barked back, "this thing on my finger just doesn't want to do this anymore!" the fingers of his left hand began to tense up around the bulb end of the armrest while his right, that which possessed the ring flexed strongly into a fist that jittered lightly in the air, a frustrated wreck.

Deryck was sitting down in a cushioned single seating chair, the kind that blended between a classic four peg constructions and a couch. The four wooden foot high pegs in each corner carried upon it a box like set with springs held within by thick green fabric and robust cushioning. The arm rests on each side were rather hard with the flimsiest of the cushioning wrapping around the heavy wooden boards that comprised its top and though this would usually figure in as the most uncomfortable aspects of any chair, it was most certainly the chair's backing which terrorized him the most. The back of the seat was basically a vertical hanging board that was intentionally stitched improperly against the sides of the box portion of the seat so as to result in the bowing of the board outward, cradling his back like a horse saddle sitting on its side. It reached well beyond his head, two heads at the least, making it all the more difficult to find comfort for his throbbing neck which he had come to rely heavily upon for keeping his head up straight and focussed.

The spacious living room of the townhouse was rather quaint in its structural design but if the chair was anything to judge, it was not much to look at on the decorative angle. The floor was composed of heavy wood moulded into thin strips that extended throughout the cumbersome space. It was the primary room at the front of the house on the first floor with two broadly trimmed openings, one at the back leading into the kitchen area where the wooden panels broke off abruptly into soft white linoleum tiles while the other led into the central hallway that split the townhouse complex in half, the front of which being the primary doorway for the house. Unfortunate as it was, the chair that Deryck sat upon was not the only one of its kind in the room, four others were splattered through the room, two at the front of the room facing inwards towards the kitchen while the other two were against the adjacent walls, he of course was seated on the one closest to the kitchen entrance way. Further details were blurred into a darkened state; the large front window facing out towards the main street was rather tinted heavily near to black, all for the best in serving the Lantern's purposes. Despite the elapsing darkness, the room managed to stay adequately lit from the source of formed green energy which hovered in directly in front of the boy's eyes. His ring hand raised up from its resting position, tightly drawn into a fist further drawing the attention to the bulb circular ring which shot from it's a flat wide spread beam which fell upon a squared pieces of the contraption being formed giving it life. It was an engine of sorts, with three tubular pistons glancing off from one side of the major rectangular portion with a large cog wheel of sorts rotating on the opposing side. The strong glow made the boy's face seem pale, his spiky black hair falling flat on his forehead lacking any vibrant feeling; but these sickly features were minor abstractions to the deep burning eyes; their solid tear shaped state under narrowed lids conveying a deep concentration…but this was slowly stripping away into sporadic shots of anger. The cog was turning quite slowly, the pistons not at all, and the square central piece of the motor was beginning to lose its solid state revealing its inner workings, these small pieces which were breaking down into smaller and smaller components; ball bearings, tubes, bolts, and the like.

"Alright, I've had just about enough of this!" Deryck slapped his ring-less hand round the end of the armrest. Instantly the mental composition in front of him sputtered out, the cog falling from the axel it was already desperately trying to hold on to. First it degenerated in simple shapes, but these quickly lost their strenuous form, degrading down into lines which held for only a moment before finally dissipating into the air as though it had never existed in the first place. The wide angled beam retracted a sluggish pace back to the Lantern ring on Deryck's finger. He let out a grunt as he sunk further into the seat, his head falling nearly two thirds down the sizable chair backing. He let out a sizable grunt as he further entrenched his fingers against the ends of the armrests, pulling with the muscles along the length of his arm to bring himself up onto his feet.

The lights suddenly shot up above revealing the tall brooding figure that leaned up against the broad frame of the opening leading into the kitchen area. Kyle, a tall muscular man, crossed his arms firmly across his chest as he glared down at his young protégé whom had proceeded to angrily step around in a circle and mumbling to himself. The master lantern was quite aged since the time when he had first been given the ring; his face shared the wrinkles of the battles that had engulfed him while his once strong dark hair that ran short off his scalp had faded slightly giving sign to grey strands that noted his wisdom, but at the moment his experience was of little use. As such, he was finding it to be most difficulty in reaching for something to relate to with the storming Deryck, but maybe he feigned from finding something out of fear that he would find within the boy something personal, a youth in need of guidance he no longer felt strong enough to give, "you're over complicating your creation when you have time to think it through," he started, "and then resorting to simple of forms when you feel you don't have the time," he pushed his shoulder off the trim and stepped forward lightly to reach to Deryck. He found himself fond of the jumpsuit worn under his Lantern garb, particularly the collar piece that tightly grasped his neck; but beyond this, he had above the suit a nicely trimmed pair of pants that thickly gripped around his big dark boots. Not to be too beyond the brightness his Lantern was to inspire, the jumpsuit, pants and boots held the black shade making it appear even more so a service uniform than just the casual wear that he treated it as, "there's a bit of art and creativity in what we can do with the ring…you have to will the machine to work. Stop thinking of all the small bits that make its composition and let the ring focus on making it work."

"This ring doesn't want to do anything!" Deryck turned to face Kyle, tossing his hands out to his sides in some evident anger. He bit down his teeth and snarled at his acquired trainer and roommate, "I don't understand how this engine works and all this thing does is taunt me with its irritating mental incursions..." he slapped his hands against his chest, "I can't take it anymore…" he concluded in his disgruntled tone.

Kyle shook his head in dissatisfaction; "we have to keep working on the ring…" he continued in quite an odd calm voice, "now I'm sorry that the ring has bonded to you Deryck, but this ring is the future of the Corp and you're nowhere ready to start using it to its full potential, to support the purpose of what it was made for."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Deryck shot back, "that I'm just a meat suit that the ring needs? That you need? I'm a person Kyle, I've got some of my own problems that I've got to deal with and this ring hasn't made anything better for me." Deryck faced his back against the chair and plopped down into it, "I don't know how your friend was able to do it," he grunted deeply, "but I haven't exactly been able to get this ring to cooperate with me."

"It's alright," Kyle let out a sigh. His vision crossed to the ground, unable to look to Deryck, "there is plenty of time to refine your abilities as a wielder…before the call up to Oa is made," his hands crossed behind his back, fingers clasping the opposing forearms.

"I don't think I want to leave the planet now," Deryck sighed. He leaned forward from the chair and turned to face Kyle, "better send one of your guardians here and rip this thing off of me."

"Perhaps its best you stopped hanging out with your friends of yours," Kyle beckoned, maintaining his calm demeanour, "their kind of influence might not be something you need at the moment…."

"And who are you to judge whom I should spend time with?"

"Why can't you just make some civilian friends…?" Kyle gulped, "those two boys that you've been hanging out with, they were born into their roles and knew exactly what they were getting involved with since they were young. But you've sort of just jumped into it and look at the kind of situations you fallen into by hanging out with them."

"It's better than whom I was hanging out with before," Deryck jumped out from his chair and crossed towards the central hallway. His first quick strides slowed to a wobbled walk, silence passed for a few moments before Deryck could recuperate, "no…I'm sorry Kyle…I had to break into your League computer for a bit and posed as you," he stood within the squared arch of the opening, his backside facing Kyle, "I had the Manhunter keep tabs on a particular individual in my past life…before all of this," he turned chin to rest on his inner shoulder facing Kyle, "I've actually never met him, just that I knew what he would be doing when he…" he paused and swallowed down the fear in his voice, "he was released yesterday…" his head began to quiver, "I'm in a lot of trouble here and I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing about it."

Kyle could only muster up a blank stare, "where are you going?" he asked sheepishly.

Deryck sighed, shaking his head as he turned towards the hallway to locate the exit door at the front of the house, "I have to go for a walk, clear my head…I've got an old friend whose in the same boat though I doubt he's got as good resources as I do. He might need my help."

* * *

Razzi spat out a blood laced gulp of saliva from his swollen puckered lips. Despite the excess volumes within his throat and the gurgling throughout the orifice of his mouth, he felt nonetheless coarse and dry, deprived of the alleviation of clean water that would have otherwise resulted in less pain when he attempt to expulse it and reach for some air. His face probably didn't fare much better but it was less painful to feel the hardened crusted substance of his blood that no doubt coated his often comparably pale skin. He was quite new to the ordeal he was in, a young man whom was just starting to stake his claim in the underground worlds that had formulated in the country's underbelly. But it was the final step, the one that would truly grant him some power in the markets already forged, that had led him to this place…still it beats the swift death that he was expecting.

"Hello Razzi," Rotund's voice slipped in its curving style. Razzi's beauty had been compromised; his lacy curly black hair was drenched with sweat and pulled back down along his neck wrapping there tightly, his jaw sagged open revealing the bitterness in his mouth where the teeth had been stained slightly to black. The sides of his face were partially bruised but thankfully it was more or less aesthetically pleasing in consideration of the prisoner's jumpsuit that he wore; the single piece eggplant purple cloth that was tightly trimmed at his waist line but branched out significantly around the ends of the short sleeves and pant bottoms. The painted name on the right side of his chest revealed him to be a prisoner in the custody of the 'Hub City Correctional Facility', but perhaps it would be more proper to say he is an ex-member of that group now, though it was not like he did any significant time there. He was just waiting there for word on Rotund's survival; he being the one who took the crowbar to the man's head…he evidently survived. Though most would consider it unfortunate if Rotund died, since one would then expect to spend close to life in captivity, it was the pounding that he was taking in the current moment of his life that convinced him that what Rotund would do to him and his accomplices, if they could be called so now, would be a lot worse than staring at life through bars, "thought maybe that I wouldn't get at you in county?" Rotund's pride teetered in on his voice, "I have a lot of connections."

Razzi's head rose up painfully from its slumped position, wobbling as it did from side to side slightly with the moans he continued to annunciate as pain. His eyes were recognizably bloodshot, coursed with sleep deprivation, a result of the brutal reality that results from the existence that he had chosen. It was welcoming to the see the world without the addition of bars but the sight of Rotund leaning down to look him in the face made the experience less desirable than what he had remembered. He was sitting on a steel chair, a simple platform suspended by four pegs with a narrow rectangular back piece that craddled the cusps of his shoulders held in place by the extensions of the back pegs upwards. A quick glance around his surroundings and he deduced himself to be within some sort of storage place save for missing the storage that it was built to carry. No doubt, he was in the much darker regions of the city and buildings such as this, the size of decent football field, were far and widely available for such purposes as torture. Several lamps decked along the squared tops of the large metal structure, not having reached full power, the humming lamps provided a damp mysterious atmosphere that was further blurred in light of the blood and sweat that was oozing on his brow and desperately clawing at his eye socket.

"But I'm wouldn't be surprised if you already knew that…" Rotund continued. The man, the tormentor, was surrounded by several men, all decked in their darkened clothing and robust jackets, arms flexed somewhat across their bodies as they stared down at the tortured boy. Razzi was slowly remembering what had brought him here. After two weeks in the often solitary lockup, he was called up by his designated court lawyer to review his case upon learning of Rotund's survival of the near life threatening injury; however, as he was being transported to meet the lawyer he felt a hard rock like item cross him at the back of the head. The accompanying guard must have been involved with Rotund's crew, hit him on the blind side in a place that one would have expected, "you know I thought that maybe you'd go pretty far in the business if you stuck to it," Rotund spat out in his cheery matter. He rose up and patted his long jacket down against his body, the hat still firmly in place blocking view of the damage Razzi had inflicted, "but not you've really pissed me off…and it's not just because you almost killed me." Razzi's head dropped down to his lap once more, deciding it best to listen to Rotund's voice and casually watch his footsteps against the cement ground, "of course you know the people that I know, and the kind of person I am…you've defected from the order!" he shouted angrily, "and yeah, we know of the guy who hired you, John Thermos…the questions are how do you? And what did he offer you?"

"You can't be serious…" Razzi's voice dripped out with a cough, "man, it's the chip-"

"Don't flatter yourself with any knowledge you think you possess, I know that you don't know what the chip was for cause neither do I," Rotund continued in a snarl, "but I thought you should know that the chip I ended up collecting was a crummy dud. Its unusable to my bosses…Razzi, you listening to me," Rotund leaned over Razzi and clawed his fingers into the back of his head, pulling up on the loose strands of hair to bring up his chin, "it was a stupid story that we all got caught up in believing and now here we are functioning on the outside with no way in," he let go and straightened up, towering over the slumping Razzi, "so I've been thinking that I'll just go to the source of the story this time, no more second hand information from fools. My real curiosity is on why your new boss wants the chip in the first place…but I'm going to let that slide for the time being."

"What do you want?" Razzi's weak tone panned out.

"It would appear that we were both double crossed…well, you so more than anyone else," Rotund continued in a cheeky pattern.

"You killed…" Razzi swallowed deeply while shaking his head awkwardly, mustering up enough strength to look up to the towering Rotund, "that tubby kid, whatever his name was," he concluded in a mocking tone, noticing that such an accusation did nothing to further his release.

"Yes," Rotund smiled with affirmation, "but that leaves us with two open ends, your friends….one of them called the cops on us, don't suppose you know who it was?" Razzi dropped his head, "didn't think so…doesn't matter really I guess, I was going to break both of them anyway…consider it your last request. You got me some names?"

"Oh yeah," Razzi attempted to break a smile but started convulsing into unmanageable coughs.

"Excellent…" Rotund jeered, "have to say I've never had respect for a man who turned in his friends so quickly but I sure do love exploiting them," he stressed out. "But…I am nonetheless a man bound by honour to my fellow criminal…there just has to be something for us all to work by without stepping on one another," he turned to a more serious tone, "that's why I'm going to give you a second chance here Razzi, to show that we can still be friends."

"Kill?"

"No, I'm not going to kill you…given that you comply to some of my necessary conditions," Rotund dropped to a knee in front of the chair and looked up at Razzi's hung head, glaring at him with a haphazard grin, "don't fret yourself with your friends, I'll have my men take care of them…but you see there's still the thing about this chip and I know that you know," he pointed at him, "someone who would know a thing or two about it."

"I've never met Thermos," Razzi shook his head rapidly from side to side.

"Well I'm certain you'll find a way for first contact," Rotund reaffirmed, "your life is on the line now."

* * *

Deryck was lit up into his Iota uniform, shining up in the complete emerald shield of energy. It was a quick transition from walking to flight, easy now for him and nearing upon second nature; this of which Deryck became consciously aware of as he hovered high above the town complexes that he had come to live in, though unlike the ring, he was not very community conscious. "I know…buts it's just strange," Deryck muttered to himself, the ring fist having been brought up to his face for a close analysis. He flew through the air at a curvature on his side, legs trailing just a bit lower in behind.

Iota's suit was somewhat consistent with the regular Lantern wear; hard block like green boots that carried up the full portion of his shins, similar armour like gloves braking off as flattened spikes on his elbows while allowing his fingers freedom. Upon his chest sat the lantern logo he had pulled from his mind: two point inverted white triangles that sat within a green hexagonal outline. This design was also applied to the side of his shoulders in the form of small centimetre high blocks. To top off his costume was the most distinctive of his attributes; an angular mask where by four squared pieces curved into points reached out along both cheek sides with subsequent opposing ends topping up on his temples. The conception of the suit became an imprint in his mind and was quite easily generated upon his mental command; as it was, he felt confident enough in it that as long as he possessed the ring then the suit was never going to change.

"Why do you have to keep talking to me?" Deryck whispered lightly, continuing the conversation building in his head, "I can't talk to Kyle about this…" he grew to a shout, "I've got like four different people in my head at the moment and you're the most temperamental one of them all! I can't even dream anymore without you…" his voice trailed off, the evident thoughts in his head being conveyed in his flight path which came to an abrupt stop jittering his body vertical in the air. Looking down slightly he found himself above the triangular bent rooftops of the quaint townhouse below; however, his eyes kept slipping away from the black tar and steel tops to the ring in his possession which seemingly grew in intensity the longer he stared at it, "He deserves what he's getting…" he took a heavy gulp, allowing some time for silence as he engaged the words of the ring as they became emblazoned on his mind, "I know…" he shook his head lightly, "I just can't believe he did that to me…he turned on us, called the cops…I could be in prison right now because of him…No!" he slapped his left hand to his face, wincing his eyes in the momentary pain, "No!" he shouted once more tensing up the organic wiring of his arms.

Iota lowered his head down and allowed for his flight plan to continue as planned, "you're supposed to help me take care of that sleaze ball who killed Gary and Kindred Emma at the fairgrounds ," the long rows of town houses and apartment complexes below quickly became much too dizzying for the teen lantern to comprehend as he flew past them at a blistering speed but he did not fear of losing his direction for the ring knew exactly where they were going and there was nothing in his will power to prevent it, "I don't have time for this. He deserves-" he closed his eyes and coughed lightly, scoffing the notions that the ring placed in his head, "I know your right…but why choose me if you're so bent towards justice? Do you have any idea what this person is like, the one you want me to save? Do you not understand who I am?" The speed at which he was travelling was coming to a much slower pace, enough now for him to take a look upon the rooftops of the distant townhouse complexes, "alright, I'll do this…" his voice slurred off as the flight came to a sudden stop.

Iota hovered slightly above a familiar looking building, a four story structure that was quite reminiscent of the building Kyle had found for them save for the fact that this one was adequately been distanced from the familiar surrounding buildings. Like the front of their building, this one had two separate square patches of grass that sat upon the concrete barrier blocks that ran along like wall against the clean bleached sidewalk. The trimming white fence that rode around the field tops had squared off ends, much unlike the black and arrow pointed tops of his own fence which enforced a rather prison like feeling; this was almost nice looking to him. The hard plastic brick overlay was crisp and red, totally unlike the overlay of crumpled purple like appearance he had grown accustomed to. His eyes slowly traced up the several steps leading up to the platform where a heavy blue door sat unhinged; quite unusual for such a door to be hanging open like it did…something was wrong.

Iota was struck with a look of grimace and felt an empty pit of hunger develop in his stomach as he allowed himself to hovering down to the earth below. He dropped down to the top platform, avoiding the stairwell behind him, his feet making a strong tapping sound when the emerald glow dropped from surrounding his being. He raised his right hand, lowered his back a little and pressed against the door under the force of his moving steps; the breaths within him sought manual regulation as he felt himself affected by the strangely familiar appearance of the inner workings of the townhouse. The long strips of wooden boards that composed the floor of the central hallway and the living room to his left was of a much lighter tonal value that the floor of his new home, the walls in a similar manner held to a very pale blue while the large pane of glass at the front being at a perfect angle to accept the rays of sun light aimed towards it. Additionally the place was much more beautifully decorated with a series of white plush couches in a square formation around the room with a various assortment of pictures depicting families and close friends, some of which containing a particular person whom he recognized instantly. Every step of his heavy encased boot filled his ear with a strong tap, his head aimed towards the living room as the large entrance way passed by; something was definitely not right. The easy movements of his boots in conflict against the floor boards came to an abrupt stop; he felt his feet soaking deeply in to a sticky substance that no doubt engulfed its sides quite tightly. He let out a sigh and looked down to his feet; blood in its long dripping pool had crept around him and was now beginning to stretch out and spill outside its initial build.

"We were too late," Iota stated under a hushed tone. He continued to step forward down the hallway towards the kitchen area at the end, moving beyond the entrance way into the living room with a somewhat disgusting hope that there would only be the lifeless bodies of once living people around the corner but that hope was quickly lost. "what the?" he questioned out, eyes avoiding the direct images of three bodies lying dead on the ground, one of them more certainly just a young boy. Of more emergent interest were the three men that stood upon the blood soaked white floors of the kitchen area, carefully avoiding the hard countertops, the table that ran lengthwise in the back, and other such things where their genetic information might stick to.

The men were considerably bulky, wide shoulder lengths and coarse leather like fingers that came from their constant use in their field of killing. For the most part their uniforms consisted of a somewhat similar formation with boots, pants and jackets all of which were made of thick and robust materials that assured their repeated use but maintained to a black shade for reasons of anonymity. With faces of stone which harboured unremarkable features, the teen lantern assured himself that there would be no regret if he was to bash their heads in now.

Iota watched uncontrollably as the strong figure nearest too him leaned into stride pulling up a fist that went full on into the teen Lantern's chest snapping loudly in its connection. He watched somewhat surprised by the appearance of the man shaking his wobbly hand as he awkwardly stepped backward and away, pulling further back towards the table in the back area to stand on par with his colleagues. The ring had instinctively reacted to the fear that shot down through Iota's body like a shiver, engulfing the young man's body in its illustrious emerald shielding. He curved his elbows, pulling his fingers into fists and reflected upon them with a happy grin but this moment of thrill sharply dropped when in the corner of his eyes he made contact with a set of sightless blue eye along with a smooth hand with delicate fingers lying flat on the ground and various other parts he refused to recognize soaking in their blood. The powering up of the ring around his body only further fuelled the resentment he had for hesitating to come here soon. Anger seeped into his mind as he looked upon the trio of foes, plotting out how he would defeat each one of them, breaking their will at first and then crushing their bones into pulp.

The one at the centre of the trio pulled up a weapon, a bulky silver coated pistol of sorts with a strong square opening, drawing it up to his shoulder level and aiming down the small barrel at the Lantern. A spurt of three red tanned energy shots burst from the pistols opening, slicing through the air like aerodynamic disks that smashed Iota's shield spattering into broken pieces that were quickly absorbed having no effect. Iota took a step forward with intent, sizing up the men, and prepared to ruin the men's operations further. His right fist quickly rose up to shoulder level and aimed towards the three men whom all stared at it with a startling surprise when it just ask quickly tooled a mirror image of the gun drawn upon him, formed up in its green substance which simultaneously brought forth a similarly spurt of three inch high round bullets that burst towards the gun wielding man, panning upward from the man's pistol holding hand, crossing to the centre of his chest and finally tapping upon his shoulder. The quick and startling hits resulted in an instantaneous drop of the real gun to the ground which was almost as quickly followed by the dropping the man's sore body, the fabric of where the bullets hit being frayed significantly outwards from his chest, but he would quite fortunately survive the superficial wounds. Iota pulled down to take a look at the gun at that moment realizing that he had no idea how it functioned, at least not that of the real one, only that through his receptive vision of the gun in play and the advent of the rings energy, he was able to make the construct useful and effective in its light based format. The foolish man whom attempted to punch him at first decided to make another direct approach by landing a heavy kick upon his chest immediately breaking his concentration away from the constructed pistol which dissipated into nothingness. But as was to be expected, the kick had very little effect on the teen lantern outside of that mental loss which only served to bring his attention to the source of the kick.

Iota lunged forward and grasped his fingers around the man's lapels and pulled him up close with a snarl directly in his face. Using the backing of the rings strength as his own, He pushed hard against the man's chest and watched as the man who was at least twice his weight nearly fly back towards the end of the kitchen area, raising a good distance above the wooden rectangular dining table to smash up against the blue wall with a crack of bone and construction materials. He stared down the other two gang members, the healthiest of them reaching down to help his broken down comrade and break away from the ensuing fight to get to the nearby living room and assumingly move towards the front door for escape.

Broken in a heap, but not quite ready to call it quits on his will, the fallen murder braced himself up on to his four limbs all while coughing up blood. He attempted to regain focus on his sour condition, questioning what had brought him there. He rose his head up as best as he could and watched as his two colleagues made their run across his field of vision and into the living room, one carrying the other's arm over his shoulders thereby abandoning him to the hero's wrath. Fortunately the wellbeing of the man's life was secured when the young hero was distracted by a familiar voice, taking away his concentration to an entity that had made their way through the hallway. With the distraction in place, the blood addled criminal darted towards the living room, leaping and skipping as best he could to make his own escape.

Iota head turned sharply to look down the hallway he had been walking down moments before where he came to recognize a familiar figure. The sound of an slamming door and the bustling of people through it became mere background vices to the boy's concentration upon the engaging encounter for this was his former friend, the one whom he had come to warn of the possibility of violent reprisal for his betrayal, to prevent what had already happened and could not be taken back. The boy was not much older than Deryck was outside of his Iota persona, resembling a similar height and build but nonetheless with certain facial characteristics, such a blonde hair, blue eyes and fair skin, standing to contrast him; he was much brighter a person than Deryck ever was and so much smarter too with the slight exception being the choice made that had brought about the deaths of his family. "I'm so sorry Athis," Iota mumbled out through a heavy breath. His chin dropped down to his chest in shame and emotional exhaustion.

"What have you done?" Athis voice went shrill as he pounded forward, his right foot gripping into the blood displaced floor resulting in an insidious dive to reach out to Iota with his fingers ready to clasp the Lantern's neck. Iota, able to maintain a level headed position, ripped up his arms to block off the assault upon him, grabbing him slightly on his shoulders allowing his former friend to come up close. Athis continued to pant at an extraordinary rate as he stared at Iota unsightly clean eye slots; he seemingly cared not to stare at the bodies of the lost family, channelling himself to work towards the ruin of the perpetrator, grief meant to be explored later. "What have you…" he went down to confrontation mode once more but cut himself off, "You!" a heavy breath expulsed. He shot away his arms from the grasp that Iota had upon him and reviled at the fellow criminal's sight, "a Lantern?" he questioned through heavy breaths.

"Kyle," Iota's head shot down before returning to Athis with his own brand of shock, "They were looking for you…I don't have time to explain," he stuttered through with a dissatisfied shake. He started up a stride towards the hallway pressing Athis against the wall as he passed by. He came to a stop when he was on par and spoke up sympathetically, "I'm sorry," Iota continued, looking towards his former friend, "I really am." He felt the moisture around his eyes begin to seep out from under his mask just as he was getting closer towards the door. A quick glance backwards towards Athis showed the boy to be at the very least in shock, unmoving with a jarring glare in his direction as he sought exit from this now inhospitable home; Athis was unable to cry nor unwilling to break down into the pool of despair that he was certain he would have fallen into if given the same circumstances. Just outside the front door, he took to the power of flight reaching rapidly towards the clear skies intent on returning to his current home. Since Athis was found and his family killed, then it only stands to reason that they've probably located his base of residents and the only person that could be construed as family at the moment is Kyle; someone tough would be knocking upon their door pretty soon, driven by murder to reach to him and make him suffer for the crime of betrayal that he never committed. Athis, the true backstabber, had been punished, but he was nonetheless meant to suffer the consequences. He sighed in relief however, "those creeps are going to be in some serious trouble when they come against Kyle."

* * *

Kyle treaded softly along the living room floor, walking towards the central hallway to reach the front door which had been inflicted with a few taps of force, a knocking which had gathered his attention. Once more the tapping returned to the door at a much quicker pace this time round bringing upon Kyle some minor frustration which manifested itself as a shot of pent up steam from his nostrils. Just as his hand connected with the ball handle of the door and twisted, the force behind the knocking began once more but this time at a much more constant rate as a push. Kyle snapped back on his feet, keeping his paces backwards close by as he reached back his arm to grab the topping ball on the first post of the stairwell leading up to the rooms. His eyes focussed upon the opening as it came to be filled with three persons of interest though not for any distinguishable feature but rather for their conventional beings; strong, muscular, tough wearing clothing in a desperate black, chiselled stone facial aspects that failed to be anything else but conveying the lack of emotion behind their hideous jobs. The Corps and long held League training knocked Kyle head into place, immediately attracting his focus to the more crucial details of the three menacing figures, that one was armed with a black rod of sorts that possessed at one end a small blue box which accounted for its taser like abilities, another had thick inch gold bands around his knuckles which flexed vibrantly as they hung lightly by his thighs, and finally the man at the centre kept calm while holding in his right hand a single laser pistol which he had brought up to aim at Kyle.

Kyle examined each of them with a foreboding smile, believing that this was going to be quite the house visit, especially if he did not react to fast, "I think it's only fair to warn you," he started up in a serious tone as he prepared his feet in a fighter stance, working his way to the centre of the hallway, "I was trained to fight by the original Batman…this isn't going to end too well for any of you," he concluded with an elegant flare of arrogance.

Just as the centre man was prepare to fire up his pistol; a swift kick upward of Kyle's right foot compelled the man to raise the gun much too far, its end coming to aim at the ceiling. On the returning stomp down, Kyle hammered his foot deep into the man's shin scrapping along the fabric and no doubt scaring the newly torn skin underneath; a jab of his elbow to the man's cradle of skin underneath the rib cage took away his ability to breath and scream in pain as he felt the push backwards out of the door frame and towards the hard cement of the steps. Of course, it didn't take to long for his colleagues to work up on their reactions not that any violent movements were to be of much of a concern for Kyle; when the metal fisted man took his jab at the master lantern, he merely manoeuvred his body on a curved angle dodging the punch while simultaneously working his hands around the man's forearms and clasping tight enough around it to imbed a red imprint of his fingers. Kyle placed his foot against the inner wall around the door and pushed hard against it at such a speed that the man being pulled was not quite prepared for the movements that such an action would force upon his body; his head suddenly clipped against the outer metal frame of the door and when Kyle let go of him, he fell down to his knees on the porch and reached his hands to this throbbing forehead. Just as this occurred, the third adversary in the group took up his cattle prod towards Kyle's side, ramming up tightly into the space beneath his arm but most fortunate for the Kyle, the lantern ring of his had already taken effect and he now simple stood there unamused by the shocked expressions of the understandably confused man whom watched as the lightning shocking around Kyle's body was simple bouncing off a circular patch of the appearing emerald shield. Kyle, not to be to mean to the little grunts, even rose his arm to give the man some room to examine the ineffective work of the electrical prodding device but this type of generosity could only hold for so long, that when the thug reached his head up to face down the Kyle's disgruntled stare the master lantern reached down with his strong arms knocking away the prod and grabbing the man squarely on the shoulders. With the nimble twisting of his feet, Kyle pulled the man inside the house, placing a solid grip on his shoulders as he twisted him around the inner space behind the front door. When he had felt that the circular movement had reached its terminal velocity, he let his grasp slip and the man found himself catapulted towards the inner trim of the opening into the living room, head knocking up and crunching the man's poor spinal column. Kyle smiled a little as he stood over his fallen foe; he clasped his hands to his waist and filled himself with pride being quite happy to use his hands in combat once more rather than to completely rely upon the power the ring provided him with.

The sparkling of contrary energy forms connected into one another at Kyle's backside; he had been shot with something, a burst of three energy shots which had thankfully been deflected off his back with the strength of his emerald shield. He cracked his head from side to side and let out a sigh, turning around abruptly to take a look upon the perpetrator of the shots fired. The pistol wielding would be murder was sitting awkwardly on the outside porch area, his back nearly touching the ground with his free hand sprawled out to the far side and his knees bent at angles for balance to get up in a form that would allow him to fire upon the entity that puzzled him. Kyle analyzed the poor man's wide eyes and jittering lips, "drop it!" he shouted as he approached towards the door opening, "this was going to be fun…and now you've just ruined it."

* * *

Iota fluttered in from above, noticing some very strange similarities to what he had encountered when he had ventured to Athis's family home; though he was responsibly ambivalent now to the arrow tipped prongs that comprised the field surrounding fence, taking the feelings that they conjured if only to avoid the fate that had befallen the family he had just saw; though from what he knew of Kyle's will, such an outcome was impossible. It frightened him somewhat however when he recognized the solid brownish door of his and Kyle's townhouse was slightly ajar just like that of the one at Athis's townhouse. A quick glance in either direction of the street revealed only the absence of peering eyes, a quiet time when twilight was on the verge of eclipsing this part of the world, all the more perfect for him to maintain his Iota persona as he approached the door and pressed it open to take a look inside and hopefully avoid the painful reality that may have been.

"So how was your walk?" Kyle questioned from his seated position. He was on the far side corner of the living room on the inner right side where Iota crossed to encounter him, just sitting there on the top of the box piece of the chair, the backing having been broken off under some unknown force. He leaned forward casually, placing his elbows on his knees and looking up at Iota as he stepped forward and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Kyle's smile, "I think I've encountered some friends of yours…personal problems hitting home?" his hands broke off from bracing his chin as he straightened his back, letting them roam comfortably to his kneecaps.

Iota stopped with his side facing Kyle. He looked around the room and saw the scratched up flooring, the charred paint from the walls and of course the rather mixed opinions over the collapsed chairs which had been tarnished save for one. He kicked his foot against the wooden chair backing from the piece that Kyle now sat on and watched it roam along the ground towards the back wall, "they were coming after me," Deryck conferred.

"Not exactly the most qualified thugs to send to take on a Lantern," Kyle sighed, "one of them tried to shoot me," Kyle took a tone of disgust, "course that didn't work out so well and after I really beat the snot out of one of them they carted themselves off to lick their wounds elsewhere."

"Yeah, well," Iota flexed his toes against the ground, looking at them as he did, "too bad there wasn't a lantern at my friend's house like there was one here."

"Where did you go?" Kyle questioned in a bewildered state. A silent span of seconds passed which showed Iota to be less than willing to converse, "OK…what happened?" the tone had changed down to a more calm and contemplative type.

"I just got back from an old friend of mine's place…" Iota spoke coldly, keeping his head aimed straight ahead and away from Kyle as he slowly took a seat on the floor, "these dregs…I was too late to save them."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Kyle sympathetically responded.

"No…I am, I really am," Iota continued, "I was just really hesitant in the first place, spent most of the time in flight trying to battle this ring," he looked intently upon the illustrious glow that had engulfed his fist, "I think you're right Kyle…I don't deserve this ring, I'm just not good enough- I'm too young."

"I never said anything like that," Kyle quickly shot back in rebuttal to the notion.

"Didn't you?" Iota swiftly glanced to Kyle then sent his head back to its slump position over top of his ring fist, "with the way you've been pushing me, how can I not think that? I know you don't really trust me, you need someone with a stronger will power or something…" he looked up at Kyle with flinching eyes, a voice of uncertainty, "I think the sooner we find a way to get this ring off the better…it just shouldn't be on me," he shook his head from side to side.

"That's not what I think at all," Kyle crossed his arms and leaned his back up against the wall, "I've been thinking about what you said since you've left, and I have been treating you rather harshly…" he stammered out before being able to take a more compassionate tone, "I haven't been home for a long time, not on Earth…but I'm having difficulty admitting to any psychological problems that I've taken upon my shoulders while in the Corp. I've seen space, new planets, met interesting people and made friends…and it was all beautiful," he slumped down, holding his hands to his chin to brace his collapsing emotional state, "but then I saw those friends die in front of me, those interesting people become engulfed in wars that destroyed whole planets and scorched entire solar systems…I've even witnessed the collapsing of space and time on several occasions…" he shook his head, dropping his hands, "I just couldn't take it anymore…."

Iota looked up to Kyle, looking upon his mentor's cold glare as the whites of his eyes slowly turned red on the underline, "Narog was a good friend of mine," Kyle continued, "he was quite the able fighter, pulled me out of a few binds, he was the most emotionally stable of any person I had ever met…so who better to have that ring you're wearing now; then there we were thinking that hey, I'm in research and development now…all those wars and lost friends were in the past," he paused to take a heavy gulp of air, contemplating his past, "but that never went away, it just kept coming back and before you know it…Narog was dead too." He let a moment of silence pass before reaching his conclusions, "I hadn't realized it at the time I guess, but I think Narog was so stable because of the cold existence this life as a Lantern created…" he turned to a whisper, "is that happening to me too?"

"Yeah," Iota chimed in with a whisper, he too reminiscing over the events of that brought him into possession of the ring.

"No Deryck," Kyle continued, "I think I've been treating you like this because I don't want to be going through all of that stuff again…especially with someone like you. You're so young, like me when I first got my ring." He paused, "I've just kind of found it better that I stop caring. I'm home now and I don't want to care about anyone else at the moment, I just want to be alone and live out the rest of my days in peace."

"Yeah," Iota hushed out once more, "I didn't mean to bring this all upon you…."

"I know," Kyle concluded, "I'm just really concerned is all…but I understand what you're going through, I really do and I'm going to make that last sacrifice…we can make this work."

"Can we?"

"Yes," Kyle stated sharply, "from what I've seen from you so far, I think you'll make quite the lantern," Iota raised his head and looked straight to Kyle, "I really do."

"Alright Kyle," Iota began to nod in affirmation.

"But first," Kyle turned to a more casual discussion voice, "I think you're going to have to be a little more open with me here…what's going on?" he waved out his arms to signify the mess that had been well established in the room, "who were those guys?" His voice, while impressionably different than the filling of remorse in his earlier words, was noticeably less than enthusiastic for an answer which functionally offset Iota's inner gut feeling on providing, "I've read the police file on you that the Question gathered, you've got quite an outstanding record, though I suspect that all those unrecorded activates before finding you at the fair ground are a little more than just outside the occasional store robbery and vandalism."

"I got in contact with an old friend," Deryck started, "Athis and I…we thought it might be time to take a jump up the criminal ladder, actually do something that might give us some credit out there…foolish notion I know but I'd like to believe that that was where my life was headed so there was no reason to fight against it. We were told that we were hitting a rival gang leader's garage," he accentuated strongly on every word of his last sentence, "that we were a part of some team sending a message to a contested mob boss to stand down," he started shaking his head and lowered his voice to a dribble, "but we were lied to by our leader Razzi…but that wasn't so much of a problem cause when Razzi went to go do what he was actually set to do, there was someone there waiting for him and they fought it out. Razzi nearly killed him, but uh…he survived."

"Who?"

"I don't know," Deryck snapped back looking up to Kyle, "I had never heard of the guy till I visited Razzi at the prison…Rotund. And yeah, I think we really got messed up this time cause he wasn't no low level crook like Razzi was, this guy had a lot of resources and worked up a lot higher on the chain. But none of that seemed to bother Athis, see he didn't grow up in the same kind of environment that I did…he was really clean with a family and everything but like he told me, he just got bored one day and did all this stuff I was doing and we had done it for some time, believe me…but for whatever reason he just wanted to get out quickly, but he certainly didn't tell me anything about it."

"What did he do?" Kyle leaned in forward, finally intently interested in the developing story.

"He had the cops called on us," Deryck muttered out quickly, "he knew that there was something more going on that night than just boosting some classic vehicles, knew that we were being lied to…said he was finally going to do something good for a change."

"You don't sound very convince by that…." Kyle interrupted.

"I'm not," Deryck stared blankly into space, "a boy like myself living day-to-day in a middle family, that don't cut to clean with me. When I first met him, he was building high-grade pipe bombs and regularly planned daring robbery of pretty much every place we went to, when he met me he finally had that outlet that he could work out from. He was smart, probably would have had a great future had he gotten some help…most certainly would have been better if he never met me, maybe he really did want to go straight, doesn't matter…this is all my fault."

"What is?"

"Those dregs that attacked you, I think they were Rotund's," Deryck continued, "they were going to kill you to get to me just like they had done to Athis's family. I think he wants to make an example of us…but we're just kids, I can't believe it. I just can't get the picture of his face out of my head; the moment he realized what had happened, that I think he recognized me."

"What?" Kyle sparked up with a shocked expression, "he recognized you?" The answer to that question however would have to wait since the loud twang of the heavy solid door of their town house smashed up upon the wall that it opened into nearly breaking its simple hinges.

"Deryck?" a shrill voice called out. Iota suddenly rose up to his feet upon recognition of the voice as it became evident from the heavy footsteps that the figure was growing closer to his direct behind, "Deryck? Oh, I am so glad I found you alive…wait-" the voice dripped off upon the recognition of his former ally in full lantern regalia.

A tall person stood in the entrance way to the living room, with greasy black hair that looped and curled behind his ears and stretched in behind his neck, his face bruised to blue along with the strands of blood from cuts having dried into unbreakable crusts, while the purple hue of his jumpsuit instantly revealed where he was from though much of which was covered by a long brown jacket that reached down to his thighs. His hands shook lightly, covered as they were in much needed bandages that seemed soaked with the various bodily fluids that resulted from being tortured, "Man, I could really use your help…" his weak voice trailed off, evident tears dropping out of his eye sockets as he came to see and recognize his salvation.

Deryck looked upon him with a sympathetic glare, "Razzi?"

* * *

"Athis?"

"Yeah, that's me…" Athis, the tall fair blonde young man stepped across the loose gravel lot, decked now in a darkened black jacket over top of the evidently white lining of a one piece suit that crawled around the entirety of his neck, "so you got my message?" In one of his hands he held a circular head shaped object, a helmet with a white trim above the brown and circular black.

"Well, we're here aren't we?" a cheery voice responded swiftly. The source was an unusually vibrant man in his officer's uniform, a straight black suit with the only different additions being that of the white squared shoulder pieces that were applied as a plastic like tone upon the jacket he wore and closed off at his shoulder blade. His face was quite pristine with the sharp blue eyes and short black hair, unaffected by any scars of his service; no doubt more a pencil pusher than what thoughts are conjured when thinks about the role an officer plays. "But hey, just be sure not to go around telling the office that I be handing out free tours like this." The two of them stood just outside of large aircraft hangar like setup, stretching out significantly to fill out a large portion of the grounds that it was built upon. It possessed on its top a series of wide circular arches that ran and connected with one another over top of the large square warehouse and was composed of a furnished metallic alloy painted a coarse black; a necessity for most police structures. They were in an area way outside the main city limits for the majority of the landscape was rather robust in its environmental elements with the cityscape not being too well viewable through the marbled hills. "Guess I could say that I really like your mother, and well look what you've done for the force already…who better to tap into the criminal underbelly of the youths than another youth."

"Just figured I should be doing my part to keep the community safe," Athis responded with a cold demeanour. He watched the officer with an impatient tapping foot, tired as he was on waiting for the man to provide his security key and pass code into the grey pin pad that slid out of the building side at an angle just behind the obvious door openings.

"Didn't know you had such an interest in electronics," the officer continued in his cheery tone, "the stuff we've collected from all those costumed freaks has earned them their own section…" he tapped the pad once more which immediately led into a loud whirling of tensor cords that appeared to be emanating on the other side of the large steel doors, "but none of its worked in years, the government doesn't even care about this stuff no more…I always figured they'd hold onto everything," he glanced away from the pad to look contently at the brooding Athis, "what exactly do you think you're wanting out of here?"

"I was talking to chief Rogas," Athis responded politely while working his hand behind his neck to scratch, "when I discussed with him about my plans to become an electronic engineer he was yapping about this stockpile of weaponry that was just laying around the silo's you guys got here…so I figure it's never going to get used and it's never going to leave so why not tinker around with it and see what I can learn?"

"Well, that's very weak," the officer replied with wit as he turned to the doors. The high doors of the warehouse began to slide at a sluggish pace into the inner wall slots that were designed to take them.

"I've done something that was honestly quite hard for me," Athis interjected with a stern scowl, "the least the office of the law can do for me if give me an opportunity to put all this old junk to use: an education."

"This stuff hasn't been touched in years…we don't even keep it all that well guarded on account of all this stuff being useless. Did this reports you read about this stockpile give you any indication about something of notable interest being here?"

"Yeah," Athis gulped as he responded, waddling back forth on his toes as he stared at the dividing doors revealing the treasure trove that lay within, "a few years back, some cops got their hands on some power cells belonging to Arthur Light."

"That Doctor Light?" The officer questioned as he stepped toward the widening gap, the shadow casting of the twilight casting sun breaching its weak rays within the immediate insides of the facility.

"Yeah," Athis smiled as he stepped towards the door reaching to stand on par with the accompanying officer, "long lost relative…left his old helmet laying around," Athis rose up the helmet into both his hands revealing its full make. Possessing above the black circular top was a white fin of sorts that was flat and stretched from the front white band of the brow front and rid all the way to the back. He looked upon the face opening, seeing the inner white cushioning that would support the back of his head and neck. "Can't you hear it speak?" he tapped into a more cheery voice, seeing the puzzled reaction of the young officer. He turned his head straight to the opening door and pulled up the helmet high before slowly let it descend onto his head with a smile and wide eyes, "it wants to help me, but it needs power," he pulled up a small grey tubular item from his jacket pocket with black caps on either side preventing its contents from falling out. He extended it out to the officer, and spoke out angrily "it just needs some power."


	22. Nightwing 5

Nightwing #5  
Volume 1. Story 4.  
Hera Be With You

* * *

"Avril?" Todd called out as he paced around the corner edge of the L-shaped hallway of the school he attended to head down the longer of the two paths. He was a delightfully average height for someone his age which was noted as being unusual considering his parental heritage, his mother being one who has consistently ranked among the tallest of Earth based super heroines; however, he did manage to hold onto the beauty that made their image so endurable. Silky shortened black hair, clean ocean eyes, curved chin and a solid tooth filled smile; all features that made him irresistible to the masses of fellow students he sifted through to reach for his friends. The sleek jet black pants, white collared long sleeve shirt, silky dark vest and plush blue over coat conveyed in addition to his natural beauty a sense of unparalleled post-modern style and the ample resources to support his desires.

The long and wide hallway was oft described as the usual high school foundation though this one was certainly much brighter than the considered norm where the daylight fixed light system along the ceiling exemplified a deep peach tonal value within walls and linoleum floor which blended quite well into the washed red doors that entered into the standard class rooms. The locker bunches, their cold steel composition, stepped out from the walls a solid foot and a half, their sides being painted a darker rare peach in contrast to standing walls; however, the front full size locker doors were painted a strong blue, a near dozen to each rack that sat along the walling space between the doors of each classroom. Some had been open to allow the popular youth to deal with their personal belongings stored within but for the most part they remained shut allowing for the social types to lean against something solid and continue their conversation with the student body.

Todd had located through the students his first friend made at the school, the one whom had become accustomed to walking with to this institution of education. The soft, tan skinned, messy short blond haired girl whom had caught onto his call for her name and dutifully turned from her locker to acknowledge his arriving presence, but as he made the necessary steps to reach her he was startled to find that he was intentionally blocked by another girl whom had made an approach on him bringing with her a cumbersome amount of simple minded gentlemen, their masculinity bulging from their young bodies which were covered in the most luxurious of wear thereby appearing to try, at least in essence, to emulate that of Todd's style; needless to say though, on account of Todd's ideal appeal, their minds were filled with the coldness of jealousy where their bodies moved with such determination to exemplify their muscular physique and preparedness to defend their earthly treasure, this girl, from the threat that was Todd's beauty.

"I'm very sorry…Manda?" Todd clasped a cupped hand to his mouth and nodded his head down slightly, "now if you'll just excuse me," his eyes widened as he swiftly analyzed the strange girl standing in his path. She stood a quarter inch taller to him forcing his eyes to wander upwards to hers but not before pulling every possible detail that he could; her dark raven hair was thick yet manageable lacy stretching down half past her torso, the green irises of her eyes were founded in tear shaped sockets that appeared ever so sultry when they blinked, her face a gentle spread of delicate skin that was somewhat pulled into rubbery balls around the upper cheek area, luscious slips completed the ensemble with an enduring smile that was quite captivating. Her bright red top left her arms exposed showcasing the bronzed skin that defined her wholesomely; he certainly recognized her designer appeal in comparison to himself, but he nonetheless felt baffled by the half a dozen being desirous of her company but concerning such things he could only see their to be a flaw in their characters.

"Todd," Manda tilted to her shoulder, voice sparkling with sweet intent, "where are you off to in such a hurry?" Her vision broke into his unwavering stare, "wouldn't you like to pass the time with me?"

Todd leaned his head around her body catching a glimpse of Avril in the distant background, her face scrunched up with puzzlement or perhaps some shocked disappointment, "I have a friend to take care to…" he commented as he pulled himself up straight to face down Manada once more, "and while I'm sure you are a fascinating individual," he accentuated with a flare of sarcasm as he pulled his hands behind his back to lock, "but this is a friendship I would not like to be in doubt of however unfortunate it may be for you…I am certain though that you will make do in the absence of my company," his head wavered around to the intimidating glares of the mindless dopes that spent their time fawning over her existence, but in that moment of analysis he made a connection with a few of them and found it puzzling for they appeared to be glazed in their eyes, sightless of anything but her and those whom would stand opposed to her influence, namely him. With a gentle nod, he waved his hand gently at her side, step speedily around her and was once more determined on making his way towards his friend whom appeared to let out a heavy gust of air followed by a smile of relief.

"Do you want us to do something about him?" One of Manda's boy stepped in beside her, the straight jawed type casted muscle man who would only find himself in torture without her magnificence.

"No," she scowled, watching Todd's backside as he headed up the hallway on his adventure to break through the droves of teens that cowered in the walkways searching for excuses to avoid the inevitable, "I'll take care of him myself…he' just a little harder that's all," she started up taking heavy huffs as her hands pulled up to her waist scrawling her long clean nails into her sides, "why would he ever want to hang out with that dreg?"

"Sorry I missed out walk this morning," Todd waved out his hands politely, a small grin coming to his face as he made the final steps to lock his interest upon Avril, "turns out my aunt really doesn't like cats…it was a little hectic so I ran, but at least I'm on time."

"No worries," Avril returned with a small smile of her own and a nod, "I uh," she began to stammer, twisting her head away awkwardly while maintaining her eyes upon Todd, "got a ride here anyway." Unlike the first girl to block Todd's path today, Avril was quite characteristically different from the typically associated norm that Manda conveyed, she wore loose fitting eggplant purple jean lined pants and a matching bulky fleece pull-over sweater that covered her otherwise lean body. Todd quite readily recognized her passion for athleticism and gymnastics that would produce an admirable form, but stood wise enough to not invade her rather private lifestyle holding more interest for her commentary on social affairs in the modern day school.

"Isn't that a little weird back there?" Todd raised his hand to point back to the conglomerate of Manada obsessed boys, eye lids fluttering rapidly as he haphazardly stepped his strength from one foot to another, "I think that ever since I've gotten back from my one week suspension she has been trying to talk me into something…" he paused in his stepping, narrowing his eyes, "do you think she's stalking me? I feel like someone's been following me?" his eyes clenched around his body, fingers gripping into his back, "I kind of just frightened myself," he squeaked.

"I don't think you have to worry about something like that," Avril responded through a brushing chuckle, "She's sort of been monopolizing the-" her voice faded off as the high pulsating ring of the school bell threw off their quick starting conversation. She bit lightly on her bottom lip and further chuckled to herself while watching Todd's head zoom around in all directions seemingly looking for the source of the dividing noise. "Where you off to?" she posed the question pulling Todd's attention back to her when the nascent ringing came to an abrupt stop.

Todd glared up to Avril with an unusual hunch of his brow, miming the words in his mouth by application of his moist tongue to his dry lips, "History. It's a big topic around my house, figured I'd get grip of the whole thing so that the future conversations won't all be one sided."

"And what have you learnt so far?"

* * *

"The government's official explanation for the first Amazon War was the Amazonian concerns over the treatment of the world under a primarily American led world regime," the authoritative voice of the young teach bellowed throughout the classroom leaving an impressionable mark upon the students therein save for one, "following the attacks of several military bases and the near burning of Kansas state to the ground, Queen Hippolyta of the Amazons made an address to the nation in which she took full responsibility for the attacks…if you check your mycourses page you can read a full text document of her address to the nation or you can view the video on your own time." The brash teacher spoke with an air of seniority over his students, someone whom believed himself to be well versed in this area of study above the meagre scrutiny that the young, whom lived not through the tragedies of war, could muster against him. He was quite a lean man, sharply fitted black hair and wide wholesome brown eyes, dressed quite fashionably in a well refined package brown thigh reaching jacket and matching dress pants with the only contrasting feature being the high rise black collared shirt that tightly wrapped around his body; his desires to reach beyond a high school setting were certainly shown through his sense of style.

The peach tones of the inner hallways and the outdoor construction of the school carried on quite well into the spacious classroom. Five lines of desks stretched their ends to either broadside, separated however to produce ten sections so as to allow a sizable pathway between the seated students at the centre. The desks were black topped but their sides were evidently composed of a well varnished light wood that circled around the front facing the teacher and cut off at the sides allowing of course for the students legs to fit underneath the desk with ease; at each desk sat a maximum of three students whom worked away at their black computer notebooks, accessing the noted files espoused by the teacher along with their usual personal etiquette that allowed them to socialize while they learned.

Todd was among the students of this class, sitting in the second row back of the front and nearest to the outside of the building where he could see through the auburn metal frame of the window and see the serene greenery outside, the front of the school where mounds of shrubs and small trees lined the outer rung of the staff parking; he found himself sickened of the unnecessary needing of the breeze swaying trees and worked his eyes away towards the vehicles seeing their axles, fenders and other assorted items that he could possible tear apart with the ingenuity that Mr. Wayne had trained him with if and when one of his teachers turned into criminals. But the words of the teacher, the negative implication he seemed to be conveying against his so called 'family' started to seep their way into his mind and without a moment's hesitation he asked the questions that he hope would defend the actions of the Amazons that lead to the war. "I was just thinking," Todd leaned inward on his desk towards the dividing pathway, working up a small grin as he swivelled around his compact notebook, "Didn't the American government capture her daughter Wonder Woman and torture her? Wasn't that the reason for why they went to war?"

"Excellent and valid question…Todd is it?" The teacher pondered as he stepped around his single similar class room styled desk though notoriously clean and wide by comparison, "though don't you think 'torture' might be going a bit too far?" He leaned back casually against the front of his desk, flattening his hands softly on the smooth top.

"No," Todd shook his head with wide eyes as he slumped back into his chair, "the government at the time wanted something from the Amazons to exploit, going through her was the best option that they had."

"What exactly could a society centred upon an ancient era have that the government of America could possible want?" The teacher stepped up his arrogance, tipping his head down lightly but keeping his glare angled towards the troublesome child.

"Well, firstly that ancient society seemed to do pretty well against the modern man's army," Todd hastily spat out with the full rotation of his head with signs of a cherry, chuckling relief, "they wanted the technology to create the purple ray," Todd through himself forward as he approached a stern response to his teacher's question, "they wanted to build a powerful weapon and when the Amazons said no they then decided to use extortion tactics to get what they wanted."

"And what evidence do you have for this?" The teacher maintained his calm demeanour, crossing his arms over his chest, watching Todd whom silently waited for the teacher to conclude the discussion with wincing eyes, "a device that destroys matter? Such a thing is the stuff of conspiracy theories that have been floating around cyberspace for years following the war but there just isn't any substantial evidence to support a theory, especially one that is so outlandish. Wonder Woman was a known murderer and a possible spy, the government took the best options it hand available to it…even when she was released on her own accord Queen Hippolyta moved forward with the attack calling for the complete surrender of the country or the forfeit of our lives."

"Our?" Todd spoke up with uncertainty.

"I suppose it was before all your time," the teacher departed sharply from his authoritative tone, "I had lived through the events of the war and its aftermath," his face solemnly dropped from view, "it was not a pretty sight, what they did to the capital I thought to be irreparable."

"Wonder Woman had to do what she did to prevent that dreg Maxwell Lord from mind-controlling Superman!" Todd piqued up as his hands rose to either side of his head in a hysterical manner, "she did what she had to do to save this world…just as she has down a numerous other times."

"And that's how you would justify murder?" The teacher tore into Todd once more, "if Superman had been in such a position, he most surely would have found a way…he never would have succumbed to the demons that Wonder Woman so obviously had."

"Well that's not fair," Todd began to cower a little, "she's an ambassador of peace-"

"And what of Supergirl and Wondergirl, Amazons through their training," the teacher spiked in to cut Todd off, "their attack on the President under the alleged auspices of 'peace' but nonetheless took air force one to the ground?"

"Wonder Woman is spy who worked the Amazonian trade that cost the lives of good people!" the voice of a boy somewhere in the back snapped off like lightning breaking the heated debate between Todd and teacher in two.

"Don't be too taken into his ploy," another boy's voice sounded off from behind, eclipsing the last serious tone with a narrower light hearted chuckle, "he's just spouting off some unapproachable defences for some bloody thirsty savage women to get the approval of girls," Todd slumped further back into his chair, holding quite the disdain for the besmirching of his character, that being labelled as one whom sought the approval of others, "…well ladies, is it working?"

The cheers and the unusually strong laughs clouded Todd's thoughts as he desperately sought out some comfort away from the temporary problems that were currently inflicted upon him. Whether the class and its teacher choose to believe it or not, Wonder Woman was more than just a heroine to him, she was his dotting aunt Diana and a mother figure who would place her life on the line to ensure that he be allowed to live a full and comfortable life. And whether he wished to accept the responsibility or not, there may come a time when he has to save any one of these students from harm. His eyes sifted around the black top of the desk in front of him, working their way around to the seated positions that lay up ahead and upon seeing the familiar curved form of a delicate creature, he rose his head to take a complete look at that raven haired girl, her tender smile and that small wink that she gave to him, a sign that she shared much approval for his current position on the matter being discussed in class.

* * *

"That girl Manda," Todd exclaimed with the accompanying toss of his hands in revolt, "she verbally attacked me with her niceties after first block this morning, talking about spending time together and…" his head wobbled around as the skin around his eye sockets scrunched together causing his forehead to wrinkle, "I don't know. She even sent away her accompanying boys just so that we could be alone."

"Well at least you didn't fall in to her," Avril hastily replied with a slight sigh of relief. She held her chin up high but slightly angled away from the trouble bound Todd walking alongside her on the way home from their short stay at school.

The two had entered into a long strip of moderate housing, usually listed as being no more than three stories high and generally consisting of wooden looking panels and sidings on an otherwise metal produced construction thereby producing quite the display of late twentieth century design that became ever more evident in the decorative designs that saw contrasting window and door trims to the otherwise pure coloured hue of the building's whole. This homely region was far outside the reach of the dominant metropolitan and therefore served to be of little interest for Todd's night time activities but for all intents and purposes, this place was important for it was where Avril lived.

"It's just mystical what control she exerts over them," Todd further complained, eyes becoming transfixed on the toes as they pounded away at the clean cut cement of the sun stained sidewalk, "I don't understand what they're all getting from hanging around with her…I talked to her, she's boring!"

"I'm sure they're getting something," Avril continued in her cheery voice, tilting her neck to look around at Todd's slumping head. She gracefully slipped her thumbs into her pants pocket sides and took to a stride in relief.

"She's been pestering me ever since I've gotten back to school," Todd's hands cowered together under his caved in chest, eyes numb as they blankly rose to glance forward, "I think she wants me for something, but I can't figure out what…" he came to a sudden stop in track, eyes widening as he straightened out his back. Avril likewise came to a stop a few paces ahead of him, turning sharply with an inquisitive grin. "I don't think we should rule out stalking just yet," his tone wore serious as his the irises of his eyes darted back and forth within the white, "have you seen anything since we started walking?"

"I think you're taking this way to seriously," Avril kindly responded, waving her palm in a circular fashion to recommence their walking behaviour, "she's just like all the other boy loving girls," she face forward and continued her triumphant walk as Todd caught up to her, "now that she has an opportunity to get some attention, she wants to make a collection of it…you've presented quite the difficult challenge for her and she can't bear to live that down," she smiled wide with a slight chuckle.

"Opportunity?" Todd exclaimed with a hunch of a brow, "what? Is all this apparent 'good' fortune new for her?"

"I suppose you can say that," Avril commented dryly, "she wasn't like this at all last year, not nearly as beautiful…just sort of plain," her head began to nod from side to side as she started to realize the strange change, "things really changed for her at the start of this year, now the boys can't seem to stop talking about her…huh, can't believe I never gave it much thought until now."

"What's the point though?" Todd beckoned, "why do they have to hate me for not hanging out with someone I'm not remotely interested in conversing with? And you know, come to think of it, it's not just Manda's boys that hate me, I think I'm pretty much hated by every boy I've ever met," his chest puffed out as he held in his breath, concisely moving his open right hand up and down in quick successions, "and those that seem OK with me I can't help believe that they are just putting up with me. They don't want to be my friend…."

"Well Todd," Avril started up once more with her cheery tone but sharply dropped when she caught Todd's eyes, looking at the sadness deep within convincing her of the necessity to provide some sympathy, "you're quite the…" she stammered, "polarizing individual."

"What?"

"You really don't get any of this do you?" Avril slipped into a concerned voice, seeing the puzzlement that crept along Todd's face. She let out a shallow breath as their walk continued at a much slower pace, "I thought you said you lived with your aunt, hasn't she ever discussed any of this kind of stuff with you?" She stopped and wobbled around to Todd's front, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and attempting to look him square in the eye.

"I don't understand," Todd came to a stop and nodded in affirmation.

"OK, well," Avril dropped her hand, "umm," her eyes closed shut as she attempted to find the line of conversation that she herself lacked a complete understanding of, "you don't have to be around someone because they're an interesting person to hang around with?" She spoke with a bit uncertainty, "sorry, no that's wrong. There's sort of this idea of affection that shared between two people, it's kind of like this attraction…uh, an emotional feeling that sometimes develops between two people that transcends friendship to become love on this strange level…" However, Todd continued with a blank stare, "see, she wants someone to love her just as much as she does, she wants to form a bonding relationship with you…haven't you ever loved someone?" she nodded her head in disbelief, focussing upon the reflection of herself that became evident in the whites of Todd's eye.

"No," Todd's lips trembled as he unleashed a weak whimper of a response. He let his chin slide down to his chest, "I mean…what?"

"Well, what about your parents? Would you say that you love them?" Todd took a moment to contemplate Avril's words, her question, attempting to conceive the outlandish notion but couldn't quite work in the affection of the personnel involved. He raised his head a little bit, slightly reddened around the eyes but still more or less confused, "I'm sorry," Avril calmly stated, "can't say I'm very fond of mine either."

"I guess I love my aunt," Todd piqued up, returning to his normal state of character if not still bewildered, "she's doing well to take care of me when no one else would, and I know what a strain I can be but I don't think she's just putting up with me like everyone else…I really do think that she cares for me."

"That's nice," Avril turned around with her foot extended and ready to restart the process of walking home, it was not too long till Todd had caught up to her, capturing the mood of cheer that had been absent of him throughout the entirety of the day. "You're quite innocent Todd; it's kind of…cute."

"I don't know," Todd spoke to contrast, "I've seen some things…."

Dividing the sections of housing, their lots, grass and parking garages, were a series of inner walk ways wide enough for a group of people to get through with minimal ease but much of a hassle for the norm vehicle sizes. One of these such ways was just a few paces ahead, well founded fence built of a heavy wooden green stained décor that easily rose three heads above them by comparison. The situated trees on the inner lots of the nearby neighbours further occluded the other side of the fence with their thick brown branches and colourful leaf patterns in the shine of the sun. Despite these impassable things, it was not too difficult for the two of them to imagine what was on the other side; the sounds of heavy steps accompanied by gruelling angst-ridden voices, reaching towards the mouth of the alleyway with an unbiased determination. Four male bodies found their way out, heads all turned with their cold glares at the approaching Todd and Avril whom had continued their approach without fear only coming to a stop when they realized that these four particular individuals were not only just familiar but also appeared unwilling to allow them to pass them without some harm being induced.

"What do you guys want?" Todd called them out, anger teetering on the tip of his tongue. It became quite evident that these young boys, approximately the same age as Todd and Avril if not older, were a part of the collective that had formed itself around Manada; the muscular sort with their straight tightly combed hair made to work with the assortments of chemical gels, clean faces and muscular jaw lines, the clothes and garments of someone inclined towards fashionable appearance with the various sporting logos conveying their brand; something was up in their eyes. Their disdain for Todd's existence was conveyed in the clenching of their fists, aptly prepared for a fight which evidently became the sole conclusion for an exit strategy considering that three of the four acting pegs of the rather diamond formation broke off at the back and slowly side stepped their way around the two. Todd and Avril's heart beats may have jumped up to a higher pace within a moment of recognizing the inevitable conflict but this was not as a result of fear, rather the two were we're getting quite excited as they took to a wide spread stance of their legs and likewise sought to clump their fingers tightly against their thick palms to ensure complete power in their jabs.

"What does Manda see in a weakling like you?" the boy at the front grunted out, a look of disgust reverberating throughout the facets of his face. Avril circled her head around to get a full look at the encroaching circle of able bodied boys, they nodded slightly in a sign of acknowledgement of the negativity implied to Todd, "you think that you're better than us? That you don't need her?" he continued his grunting in his heavy coarse voice but this time followed it up with a heavy push against Todd's shoulder, compressing against his top and pushing him away awkwardly nearly throwing him off balance. He was more than able to stabilize himself and never once broke eye contact with his oppressor.

"There is nothing greater than her love," another boy smiled off with his light distraction.

"You guys really need to find yourselves a life of your own," Todd enunciated strongly upon every word in a more than serious manner, ensuring the clarity was understood. He shook his shoulders as he shifted his legs, placing his weight upon his foot facing towards the boy in front of him whom saw him in contempt, "stay behind me Avril," Todd called back in a straight stern tone that was unlike the character Avril conceived him as; however she was no slouch in the defence of her wellbeing.

"And you," one of the other boys at the side called out with a sneer, "stupid ugly girl…you want to be just like her," he cried out with contempt, "you're disgusting."

The tall muscular boy that had made his way around to Todd's back side was the first to attempt an attack, throwing out his strong right hand over Avril's shoulder, zipping past her head on a collision course to the back of Todd's head but such a motion proved to be his undoing; with a high pitched shrill, Avril grabbed the boy's unmoved left shoulder and smashed her knee underneath his ribcage all in one seamless defence tactic. With less than a second, she worked her way around to the boy that had made the scornful comments, wrapping her fingers around his slick smooth sporting jacket and rubbing along from the forearms to the hand all the which inching him closer towards her so that she could lung the top of her head into his chest with a crunch that while leaving him completely startled also produced an unbelievable amount pain that left him completely incapacitated, dropping hard on the sidewalk to his knees with incomprehensible moans.

Todd wilfully acknowledged Avril fighting prowess and took quickly to his two acquired assailants whom simultaneously threw themselves into a tackling mode, leaving the solid ground to take to a dive into him. Though the attacking boys were of the sporting kind, Todd could not help but analyze their imprecise movements, building up a tactic that would exploit their faulty fighting concept. Never moving nor raising his feet, he lowered his back at the triangular point where the boys found themselves colliding, shoulder to shoulder, head to head. When the force of gravity had taken effect, dropping to two to either side of him, he rose his right foot and slammed it back down on the back of the leading boy feeling satisfaction in the moan that arose from his stomping action, "had enough?" he questioned out with arrogance.

"Getting out of here…" the boy whom suffered from the chest crunch awkwardly rose up to the soles of his feet, pouring all the strength that he could muster onto his soles as he whipped his hands against the ground to start making distance away from the two competent defenders. Soon his disheartened comrades followed him, dusting themselves off at a rapid rate as they took to their painfully quick strides to get also; the held notion of an easy victory had been vanquished in less than second.

"That all?" Todd looked out to the boys as they made their distance, his rate of breath returning to normalcy in par with his training, a notable contrast with Avril whom was huffing and puffing, her shoulders raising and lowering with the auspices of an unquenchable anger, watching the boys run off in fear or her prowess, "are you ok?"

"Fine," Avril responded shortly. She took one last heavy breath, "what do you suppose that was all about?"

"I don't know," Todd pulled his arms to his chest, wrapping them in a crossing formation, "but is this a normal situation for someone who wants to start a relationship?"

* * *

Cassie knelt down to her knees, blowing out from her nostrils a distressed steam as her hardened hands worked through the assortment of thick coated books, spiral bounded notebooks, and loose papers that dotted the floor of her home office space. Some of the items being explored related to her work as a lawyer but for the most part, the books and the variable documents pertained to her long held hobby as adopted from her mother; archaeology. The somewhat small square room was lined wall to wall with heavy wood constructed book shelves all possible slots of which were full and as such were strongly compressed making their removal most difficult for anyone, not that someone with her immense strength had difficulty with such tasks. She was tall, muscular and a goddess amongst the people she walked, this of course owing to her personal heritage with the gods of Olympus. With short striking blonde hair, sharp blue eyes with accompanying perfectly formed eye lashes, and a curved soundly plump chin, she was nearly a model image for her class of character; a thrill seeker with an attitude that broke free of the good girl mould. It was her off day from appearing in the law office or court and she had taken to a light form fitting blue jean pants with a silky red shirt that had grasped tightly only around her upper arms in short sleeves and at the curves leading from her stomach into her waist.

The door panel had slid into its wall slot opening the office to the view of the hallway where Todd currently resided, gracefully stepping into the frame of the door and casually lean up against it, crossing his arms and smiling somewhat as he watched Cassie come across a small hard cover bound brown book which succumbed to the scrutiny of her fingers and eyes, flipping through page after page, applying her knowledge in the way that was best suited to her cause. He briefly looked down to the floor, the white cotton like floor had long been stained nearer to a yellow but such concerns were easily overlooked since the items of Cassie's studies had become fixtures of the floor.

"I'm having some problems at school," Todd cried out, dropping the smile and losing his position on the frame to assume one that saw the spreading of his feet holding the weight of his upper body.

"I'm sure it's not a big deal and that it will all blow over…just give it some time," Cassie commented while continuing to place her interest in search through her belongings. "It's a problem relating to a girl," Todd shyly stated, letting his head to fall down a bit to watch his toes raise and fall, a sure sign of the thinking processes that were taking place within his head.

"Oh," Cassie squeaked. Her head suddenly shot up straight, dropping the book from her hands so that she may better balance herself as she raised herself up to the strength of her feet, "could this be about that nice girl you've been walking with to school and back?" she grinned and turned to face Todd, fluttering her eyes in search of the embarrassment that would normally be hounding boys over such difficult matters, "you know I'd like to meet her."

"No, that's a different problem completely," Todd waved his hand across his face in a nonchalant manner but suddenly his taste became sour, "wait…how do you know about her?"

"What's her name?" Cassie leaned down to tip a top book off from one of the many piles.

"Manda Neuvirth," Todd exclaimed, "father is Dyson, Mother is Clara, born at Presterian Memorial Hospital, been attending-"

"You had her investigated?" Cassie scoffed, strangely baffled in her look.

"I have everyone I meet investigated," Todd nodded his head, "she's been pestering me all of this past week like she wants something from me…but I can't really tell what exactly it is that she wants."

"Yeah, that can be quite difficult," Cassie shook her head, speaking with some varied tone, seeking ignorance from Todd's words that could imply that he had her investigated at some point in their encounters.

"If she was in trouble, you know kidnapped or something, I would strap up my Nightwing gear and save her," Todd contended with enthusiasm, "but I'd just be wasting my time if I spent it with someone as uninteresting as she is, not to mention that she's already got a dozen other boys already in her company."

"Oh so this is you playing hard to get?" Cassie posed with a cheeky attitude.

"What?" Todd groaned.

"She's young Todd, just like you," Cassie side stepped around the stacks of books to reach out to Todd, placing a caring hand upon his shoulder and catching the raising of his eyes to reach hers, "and just like you she's probably been spoiled for most of her life," Todd scrunched his eyes, unsure of the intention in the backhanded insult, "she's most likely believes that she has an entitlement to certain things, including the boys at school…guess she didn't count on one of her gentlemen of desire being completely oblivious to her charm," she dropped her hand and smiled as she turned away from Todd.

"Oblivious?" Todd rose his index finger and waved it menacingly, "I've never been oblivious to anything, I'm a trained detective…somewhat," he scoffed, "I just don't understand certain things…sometimes; it's my weakness!" he concluded with some pride that such a feature of his character existed.

"Chances are that once she realizes that she can't have what she wants," Cassie contended as she proceeded to squat down once more and select from the floor a dozen or so cream coloured paper folders, "she'll move on to something else."

"I'm not too sure about that anymore," Todd whimpered, "a group of her male suitors attacked me and Avril on the way home."

"Is she alright?" Cassie bolted back upright before Todd had even finished his statement, turning her head to face the boy down with strong concern in her eyes.

"She's fine," Todd bit down on his bottom lip, "she handled herself quite well, we managed to convince them to run away…but its underlining a greater problem I've been having since I've come here," his eyes slumped, coldly falling to the ground, "I'm having difficulty making any friends with…the other boys? It just seems that while I'm gaining a wealthy amount of female accomplices, but I just seem to do nothing but incur the hatred of every boy I've met…Avril says that I'm a very 'polarizing' individual."

"What about your uh…teammates?"

"Cassie, I don't have any power of my own…I think," Todd shook his head in a negative fashion, "they don't really need me to be an effective team and I hardly suit the leader persona…no, I think they're just putting up with me rather than being my friends, they just need another body to exploit."

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," Cassie sincerity shined through, "you were the one whom saved us all from Bedlams control [YJB #3]…and as for the polarizing bit," her voice became more stunted, "you're a very beautiful person, both physically and spiritually; they're just jealous of what the gods have blessed you with."

"So I should become subservient to her, then she'll leave me alone and I can become just one of the guys?"

"Let's try not to give up on your dignity," Cassie slyly remarked. Her eyes widened a little more than usual as it became apparent that she had come across what she was looking for in a thin sliced brown leather coated book no bigger than Todd's palm. "You just need to be more humble in your approach to people, though I'm not quite sure how you'll be able to accomplish that," her words slowed down, "but if this violent attitude continues, I want you to notify me so that I can bring up a formal complaint to the vice principal."

"Alright, Mr. Wayne has taught me some diplomacy, though I'm not sure how I can apply it to a 'personal' manner, I guess I'll give it a try though…" Todd agreed, but with much hesitation on his part, "hey, what are you looking for?" his voice peaked up as the topic of the conversation moved forward from the personal.

Cassie rose to her feet, wiping her left hand across the top of the book that was held firmly in the palm of her right hand, "information," she glared at the blank front of the small book, "When my mother worked at Gateway Museum she had come across the staff of Hera, or rather one of the many staffs that she created when she attempted to become more involved in Amazonian affairs…one of them managed to make their way on to the collectors circuit and we believed ourselves lucky enough to pick it up before anyone attempted to use it. It's past some hands since I was a child, but now, it's been reported missing."

"Well, this looks like a job for a detective," Todd chimed in, stepping forward with determination and a tilt of his head.

"Well don't get too excited, it's not just the run of the mill missing artefact," Cassie briefly glared at Todd before turning her attention to the contents of the book, "it's been missing for the past month," she moved around to face Todd, looking up at him occasionally from the book which she attempted to read dutifully while continuing the conversation, "it's the top of the staff that is of significance, it was often used in a wide variety of dark magic spells to acquire love struck souls, summoning the energies of Hera or rather the assorted demiurges below her. Diana speculated that she produced the staffs out of jealousy of her sister Aphrodite for being more beautiful, lovely and desirable, that the use of the staff would be an act of rebellion against her sister's natural endowments of love between human kind…I'd probably say that this kind of thing would fit well into your problem, probably has something to do with a complex love life Hera had with her diciples," she looked up and smiled to Todd, "think about the following you could get with the beauty and the wisdom of Aphrodite?"

Todd stared at her blankly, his lips curling up in some minor revile, "This Olympian god stuff is beyond-"

"Well, you're just a boy…you wouldn't understand anyway," Cassie sliced into Todd's statement, slamming the small book shut, her eyes wavering off into the corner of the office with a look of intrigue on her face, "what did you say that girls name was?" her attention fell back down to Todd.

"Is this a plot point?"

"Who is she?" Cassie grew stern as she focused herself more so upon the helpless boy.

"Manda Neuvirth…" Todd trailed off as he took one step back just outside door frame.

Cassie shrugged her shoulders, wrapping the fingers around her waist, "why does that name sound so familiar?" Todd seemingly began to bustle around loudly through his jacket pockets and working his way down through the pockets in his pants and so, causing up a fuss as he bent his head down to take a look at his rapid moving hands feeling up his entire body, "what wrong?"

"I seem to have lost my cellphone."

* * *

The spacious room was strangely dark, the usual bright pink walls, white sugar frost like ceiling and broad decayed yellow plastic flavoured floor being consumed in the shadows projected from the wide circular formation of tall white candles, all six of them burning casually as they did in order to provide the necessary illumination for the gold chalice that sat centre of the circle. It was vase like in its shape, a round and flattened base that was much smaller than the double sized deep basin bowl that was supported by the tubular extension from the base itself. Despite the glossy shine of its seamless exterior, the inner working of the bowl was rather bronzed, scorched to the point of rust.

"Why won't he succumb to me," a voice ruined the veil of silence, the usual soft sounding high pitched vocal having given way to the coarse grain shots that arise from anger tied into disbelief, "everyone else but him." The lone figure of the room made its appearance on the outside of the circle, the slight curvature of her walk causing slight waves of wind around her dark purple cloak that circled the fullness of her body like drape leaving only her head with its frock of black stringy hair exposed and hands free once the foot wide opening of the long sleeves was pulled back. She knelt down within the circle of candles, careful in her steps not to displace any one of them, while working to her lap a short two foot tubular item, a soft wood auburn stained item that indeed held little prominence when considering the stylistic top piece; two golden tentacle like appendages that first coiled around tightly several times at the top end before branching upward and away from the central staff piece. The pieces curved outward perfectly before leaning back inwards to one another where they tied into one another with a single ball like knot.

She placed the piece down at the front of her knees, just before it fell under the top of the crucible, and took to her task like a natural, applying her knowledge of the gods to make a call to their plane of existence, or so she believed. She pulled from behind her a large plastic bag which shined with a darkened green, leaves being the storage within the clear plastic. She slipped her hand in carefully and pulled out from it these broad circular lotus leaves, their wavy lines exuding out from the central sickly white like centre circle producing the most beautiful of form within plant forms; however, this was not the image desired, amassing a number close to twelve of these two inch wide leaves, she began to manually tear and crush at cellulose that composed the leaves, letting the pieces slip freely down into the crucible. She then proceeded to pull a tall aluminum water bottle, gently slipping her finger around the top piece to apply enough pressure to pop off the lid to reveal the contents within. Tilting the bottle over top of the crucible, a slippery dark red liquid oozed from the opening, pouring in vast quantities in circular motions drenching the leaf pieces and pulling up a significant distance within the bowl. She took in a heavy breath and finished the final task; the striking of a wooden match stick to produce fire, falling from the tips of her fingers into the bowl producing a shine of such a fiery unreal flame, a blistering white movement of energy that swivelled around the edges of the bowl and exploded up above the rim and holding its form in such a manner to become alluring to the young girl's eyes.

The strange figure picked up the short staff piece, raising it up above her head with both hands while simultaneously twisting it around to a vertical position, ready to be plunged into the bottom of the bowl. Sparks flew and the candles flowed outward and away but not quite out. She closed her eyes and took in another heavy breath soaking in the foaming energies that had engulfed the room, "he still hasn't fallen for me," her words slipped out quietly. Her eyes opened spontaneously to reveal a delicate glow of baby blue, "you promised that he would fall for me, how has he been allowed to avoid my grasp?" a moment of silence last ten seconds past before words were spoken once more, "not all people are desirous of me? What a preposterous notion, all of them love me. All of them! You promised to bring them all to my court, to be my lovers…" the silence eclipsed once more, "Personal?" she questioned lightly with a puzzlement, "yes, my lovers have given to me something of his personal being," she pulled away at the side of the cloak that covered her leg, working her way to her flesh in order to pull free from her pocket the stolen item, "I have his cellphone," she pulled her hands together and cradled the black smooth thin rectangular device, an offering to the might of the emanating flame, "he must love me," she whimpered, "he is so clean, so beautiful…I want him for my own or no other person must be granted his essence."

* * *

"So how was your morning?" Todd smiled as he aimed his question across the black table top to his fellow student and friend.

"Dreadfully boring," Avril responded sheepishly, pulling her feet up from the floor to place delicately on the bench extension out from underneath the primary broad table that divided the two of them, "but what isn't about this school," She turned her head to look at Todd and smirked, seeing the playfulness in the young boy's eyes as he clasped his hands together into fist filled clumps under his chin.

A new day had panned over the city with the accompanying school hours taking the time of the youth that inhabited it. Much like the day before it, the skies were high with a blue clarity that enabled the immensity of the sun to shine upon every facet of the school grounds; the grass and gravel fields, the track and building itself where it had for the duration of the week served as the primary source of light for the luncheon area on the second floor where Todd and Avril had seated themselves for the much needed recess.

"You know I don't think I've ever seen you eat," Avril commented as she leaned forward over top of her boxed purple lunch kit, fully prepared to rummage through its contents.

Todd dropped his hands and leaned back a bit from the table, "I'm a light eater and to be honest this lunch period doesn't really coordinate itself well with my eating time."

"You have a schedule for when you eat?" Avril scoffed.

"Yes," Todd leaned back in, wavering his eye lids closely, narrowed in on Avril's puzzled eyes, "don't you?"

The two of them were on the balcony like region of the second floor at the centre of the school, an oddly hexagonal shaped piece with one of the sides being particularly wider than the others where a simple stomach high wall of glass prevented the fall to the ground floor where the transparent entrance ways to the back of the school were located. Doors leading into typical locker filled hallways were on the more full sides, but in the immediate foreground were long and broad black topped picnic like tables that had an assortment of gears and bars that not only enabled the easy collapse for storage but also enable strong support for the numerous students whom attracted to them. The spacious eating area's solid walls angled upwards towards a large window top, a pristine sheet of glass that squared in four metres given fully to the sun that hung overhead, casting its rays against the peach walls of the interior producing a heavenly glow all around them.

"Todd," a voice stepped in from behind the boy, causing him some great distress when he saw the eyes of Avril likewise turn sombre and paranoid. He was quite still however, remaining in his position for some time before acknowledging the tall shadow casting girl behind him. "How would you like to hang out for a bit," Todd rose and turned to face down Manda, that thickly raven haired girl whom had a compulsion for love that appeared to be insatiable, though quite thankfully her boys had taken quite the distance away from her, taken to a table of their own in the far back region towards the glass railing. "Why don't we leave the simple folk…" she placed one hand around her waist and reached out with her free one to tap upon Todd's shoulder, nodding in Avril's direction.

Todd, to her dismay, was still quite resilient to the moves and motions she laid on him. Taking a step over the bench board he once sat upon, Todd took to intimidating her, the mere physical movements seeing the dispersal of Manda whom stepped back from him, at this moment now fearing his presence with a glaring look that could only be characterized as disbelief, "you're friends attacked yesterday," he replied with scorn, "at the behest of you…I don't understand your fascination right now, but you need to think this through and at least try to reach a mutual compromise between the person you desire before you resort to violence, as it appears you have done with your collective. If you continue to pester me and my friend though then I'll be forced to seek an authority on the matter," he turned slightly to Avril and nodded, "let's get out of here."

And just like that, the two friends headed out from the luncheon leaving Manda angered and distress, teeth clenched and hands beating down into fists of anger, "he can't turn me down…I've marked him for my love," she stomped her foot into the ground, "how could he have turned me down?"

* * *

Avril pulled her baggy purple sweater up front ahead of her body tightening the connection to her backside but nonetheless covering her figure suitably as she carted herself down the locker and student filled school hallway, all filled with their own desires for social communion as well as follow through on some well-deserved freedom to return home for relaxation after a hectic week. Avril was being called out to likewise fulfill those desires, though as opposed to meeting Todd at the side of the school for the trudge home, she had received an eager text message calling her to meet him at the far back where the grounds shattered into the moderate homes and housing developments.

"Todd?" Avril called out, stepping free from the hallway through one of the burnt red coloured exit door heading outside to a level asphalt playing field display that was laid down in a rectangular formation, one of the broadsides facing the corridor behind her. "Todd? I got your message," Avril further posited as she calmly stepped forward into the area letting the door crackle as it turned before smashing up against the inner railing coming to a close. She glanced around the playing field, taking her eyes along the path of a well-defined crevice where the pristine concrete connections lead into long metre wide strips near double in size the general school building, lined up vertically to create a large arena like structure which she instinctively recognized as the main gym. Way out to left of her, just a foot beyond the outside corner edge of the gym, the asphalt came to an end giving way to small stones and concrete dust to compose a drive way like slab that seemed to extend a long ways up and down, going on beyond the gym and the edge of the hallway she had exited. "Todd?" she called out once more, taking some steps towards the end of the outside wall of the inner corridor. The drive way sized region of the light rock gravel was blocked by a steel wired fence with accompanying fitting poles to keep the metal threads in place, and while visibly see through for the most part, the only objects that could be made out were the tall brushing green trees that lined up like hedges that provided adequate privacy for the homes on the other side of the official school grounds.

"Avril?" a sweeter sounding voice stunned its way into Avril's ears sending a jolt of shock through her body that lifted her up from the ground an inch. She took a shaky breath as she rapidly turned around to confront the all too familiar face. "There you are," Manda stepped forward with a strange tooth filled smile, she carried in her hands a golden rod of sorts, the top end of a staff where dual thick curvy rods rotated around the tubular top and curved upward to form a majestic circle. She let out a heavy puff and approached Avril with much sincerity in her step, "I've been waiting for you."

"Have you got a problem?" Avril snapped back, punching down her arms against the grasp that Manda attempted to make on her. She took some steps back but in her haste she stumbled when the asphalt gave way to the gravel allowing Manda to take a lunge at her when the trained defences fell apart. Grasping her tight grip around Avril's right wrist, she pulled her back up to the strength of her feet, knocking body to body in an awkward hit. Avril, despite her distaste of the attack upon her persons, felt herself become weak and unable to distance herself away, locking eyes with the sultry exterior of her tormentor.

"I know I can't convince you to love me the easy way," Manda's slippery voice dived into a whisper as she reached around to the side of Avril's head, foaming with steam around the curvature of her ear lobe all the while shaking up the staff piece in her free hand to tap upon Avril's gut, "but there is someone we mutually adore…that I know…" she pulled back a bit, "and if you see within him the loving beauty I do, then you will do this one thing for me. This one little thing…."

* * *

"Where could she possibly be?" Todd called out arbitrarily into the air, his head casually rolling around on the neck positing a look towards the sky and shaking compulsively from side to side as it came back down. He leaned up against a short waist high wooden railing that lined the crisp sidewalk his feet stood upon, reaching his bottom onto the ledge along with the grasp of his hands for comfort. Behind him was the park, the large sea of grass loaned to the public school for its multiple purposes but the natural serene behaviour that such lushes life was expected to maintain was offset by the rumbling of high powered vehicles, the slick electronic powered cars that were exiting from the parking lot angled between the two wings of the school with the back entrance way at its centre. Further compiling the noise pollution were the sounds of rambunctious students mingling with their friends as they took to their own paths to get home, on occasion sometime crossing by his line of vision, the girls in the groups taking to a smiling nod in his direction much to the dismay of their simple minded boyfriends, but they held little interest to him as his energetic thoughts spread out to finding excuses for the absence of his walking partner. He crossed his arms across his chest and further slumped down, curving his lips outward and narrowing his eyes to his feet.

"Sorry I'm late," Avril's flustered voice reached into Todd's consciousness jolting his demeanour up a notch with a relieved excitement, "there was just some personal business that I needed to take care of, let us be off?" she tilted her head and grinned, sliding both her hands away from her body to point with all fingers to the sidewalk path ahead lining the field's side.

"That would be quite fine," Todd smiled largely for a split second before returning to normalcy as he propped himself up from the heavy wooden rail to join the realm of the standing, taking meagre steps to reach to his friend's acquired pace.

"And, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to do something," Avril shyly responded, looking away to the busy road at their side upon Todd attempting to catch her eyes.

"Hmm?" Todd piqued up.

"You know just kind of hang out for a bit," Avril finally turned to her friend with open eyes, humming a tune of sincerity in her voice, "I'm kind of not in the mood to go home right now…I want a break."

"OK," Todd responded shortly, trailing off into a silent awkward stare as they stepped along in nearly identical steps, "my aunt has apparently always wanted to meet you since we met…?"

Avril smiled and nodded her head away searching for a chuckle that was scrawling up her throat, "sure."

* * *

"I'm home," Todd exclaimed with a delightful jeer, "plus guest," he waved up his hand over his shoulder, thumb pointing back towards the expressionless face of his fellow student, "hope you don't mind," he continued in his tone as he slipped down the corridor heading in towards the centre of the apartment owned by his caretaker.

The strip of enter hallway was painted of a delicate light blue with a much darker variety being along the top trim connecting to the roof as well as the floor trim. Though much of the wall to their immediate left was solid, the wall to their right had a gaping door size opening leading into a pleasant family room scene with a three person white fashioned couch strip and table laid out vertical to them with the accompanying surrounding furnishings sitting upon a bronzed wooden panelled floor with the continuation of the moderate blue splashed along the walls. A short distance ahead was another entrance way though smaller in its orientation lending credence to the notion of a smaller room that divided the living room from the kitchen and further on extension room whose opening was viewable at the opposing end of the entrance. The dividing wall of these two entrances possessed a table of sorts, a half oval piece of a fine brown but the contents it held on its back proved to be of much interest to Avril, the pictures of such beautiful women, goddesses of a much too high a value that she could not ever imagine walking side by side with; Todd though, he shared many qualities with them.

Cassie's head popped around the kitchen entrance, followed by her tall well-formed body structure that further placed envy within the young girl's heart when she found of herself so many varied similarities though still quite absent of the features that became more recognizable with age. She smiled strongly as she stepped free of the linoleum kitchen area to the pale grey carpet of the hallway, placing her hands on her waist and nodded compassionately in their direction, "hello there."

"Avril, I'd like to present to you my aunt," Todd enunciated every word with a slight period laced accent as he waved up his right hand in presentation, body turned to his side to give way to full viewing pleasure, "Cassie Sandsmark, lawyer by day…" he huffed and dug into sarcasm, "amateur archaeologist during everything else."

"Hello," Avril shyly stated under her breath as she made her approach towards Cassie, looking up to the marvellous statue of Cassie, the real deal as pulled from the perfect pictures that rounded the hallway table.

"She doesn't want to go home," Todd blatantly stated, leaning forward to get up to the significantly taller Cassie, "family issue."

"Todd!" Cassie dropped her hands and scowled the boy leaving him partially shocked as he fell down from his tip-toed state and accepted the burning wrath of her eyes within him. "It's a pleasure to meet you," Cassie's voice became sweet sounding as she turned her attention towards Todd's guest, "it's nice to see that Todd is making some friends."

"Another backhanded compliment? I hate that word," Todd muttered as he step sided around Cassie and headed into the kitchen.

"You know," Cassie took a slight step backwards, curving her head to a shoulder and analyzed the girl standing before her; "you look very familiar…do you share very many similarities with your mother? Perhaps I've met her before…."

"I know as much as you do," Avril was quick to dispel any such notion, "I was adopted at birth…" her head circled with the roll of her eyes, "my adopted mom's sort of a fiery redhead with a temper to match."

"Well," Cassie nodded away in a flustered state, "I won't keep you two busy, got some business that must attend to…" her eye brows bounced as she carted herself away to her personal home office through the second smaller entrance way, "and how to do you put up with him," she spoke out once more with a cherished laugh, back to her wall to wall books and analytical notes, "stay as long as you need."

"So how long can I be expecting you to stay?" Todd called out over his back to his entering friend, "you know, not that I'm like trying to get you to leave so soon." At the centre of the kitchen area was a counter strip of counter that ran its ends from broad side to broad side, a pearl white exterior on the sidings that were capped off with a fake marble blue arrangement that sat at stomach height. This such counter arrangement continued onto the wall where it aimed and circled all way around to the back with the only notable blocking points being that of the sink firmly entrenched on the opposing wall an electronic stove sitting squarely at the centre of the adjacent wall. Overhead were similarly designed cupboards that ran the full outstretch of the counter top, the panels which opened on a swivels notice being partly in composition of jaded glass pieces which distorted the image of the fine ware that sat behind it.

"I don't know," Avril responded but this time with a much more dry offsetting voice, "as long as it takes I suppose," she concluded as she slapped her hand down on the edge of the counter facing her, running it along its smoothness as she pressed alongside aiming towards the blue broad wall.

"We'll I'd off you some food," Todd remarked with some cynicism, "but Cassie's an awful cook and I'd swear she'd force us to eat something from her repertoire…she does it every moment she can get," he capped off with a mild whisper. Todd turned his back to her and leaned up against the wide entrance way leading into the designated dining area and the extended entertainment room not too far away which possessed a large flat wall endowed sized television screen and circular formed offsetting cream coloured couch arrangement which matched well to the talented white hue of the carpet but fell victim to the contrast from the darkened brown walls. All such furnishes sat a step lower from the small oak dining table, creating a dividing line that Todd so much enjoyed when updating the entertainment area to suit his varied game activities. "I suppose you don't like gibing zombies?" Todd beckoned as he continued to glance towards the screen, applying his imagination to the images he would form there, "haven't had much time to do that lately, but for whatever reason I really enjoy them ninth generation games…I know its funny cause they're kind of old, but I never got to do any of that stuff when I was younger, so I've just sort of been all over it."

"I don't know…" Avril's entered in with a calm voice, tapping the tips of her fingers now against the counter top as she slowly made her way towards the wall, "I was hoping we would be able to talk about Manda," her eyes narrowed down a particular small and solid wooden box shape, the top piece of which was at a sharp angled where an assortment of long black pearl handles hung out from waiting to be pulled free of the stopping block.

Todd slapped his hand against his face and turned around momentarily, eyes closed tightly producing an assortment of wrinkled up and around the top of his nose, "yeah, yeah, it was lame…the way I handled it," his feet curved back towards the entertainment room as he rapidly began to blink with his compulsive behaviour to regain his modest composure.

"I don't understand why you can't just love her," Avril spoke, her character image somehow being dampened down, "she's so beautiful," her tone slipped into a slippery state, "I just wish that you had taken the time to get to know her, to be with her," the decibel level of her voice rose along with the thumping of her footsteps causing quite the concern breaking down Todd's spine, "to become a part of her…that would have been most heavenly of connections, don't you think?"

"You do not sound…Whoa!" Todd slid tightly against the foot wide railing leading into the dining area, hands pressured against the either wall on opposing sides as he let out a horrifying scream when the silver streak of a long jagged steak knife blew across his eyes at a wicked speed narrowly missing the tip of his nose and the breadth of his chest. Instinctively, he kicked out his strong right foot against Avril's ankles, taking her off balance and following through with a tackle forcing her to collapse against the opposing entrance siding. The first objective, as he had been trained to move beyond the shadows which this room so carefully failed to project, was to disarm his opponent; as such, he clasped his hands around her wrist, feeling the small tid-bit bones which formed underneath her skin. He forcible shot the knife up to the ceiling and rubbed his shoulder underneath hers trying to throw his strength all in but was unable to get past the open eye glaze of his friend, the innocent girl which had fallen victim to mystical force.

Avril rose her knee up at an awkward turn, using her gymnastic skills to place the sole of her foot up against the inner side of the opening that her body was currently crushed up against. With the backing power for support, she throw out her knee in a solid quick jab to Todd's unprotected gut zapping the air and strength from the poor boy's muscles thereby displacing the grasp he held so true to her hand. Todd nearly fell backwards into the dining area but on his own power managed to hold himself up right long enough for Avril to take on a full tackle against his body, pressing one hand at the centre of his chest and the other at his stomach, pushing him hard against the table which he freely gave in to, rattling the chair on his back side as it toppled over onto its side.

Within moments, Todd was facing down the knife aimed at his throat, the power of Avril over top of him, his hands taking from his body the top peak of his strength in order to resist, "thought you were of the fighting type…but not this good," Todd grunted as he turned his head away from the tip of the knife where his eyes never once wavered away or blinked, imagining as he often did the solid stainless steel piece shred into his heart.

"Why couldn't you have loved her?" Avril's voice drenched with the pain and resentment over the fact she presented though such a thought was completely devoid within her eyes, the poor girl was suffering a crisis of character that was much to evident in the widening girth of white that seemed to eclipsed the baby blue circles that surrounded her small black pupils. "If she couldn't be the one to have you," she beckoned again in an oddly strained moan, "then no one can be allowed."

"This is ridiculous," Todd grunted once more but no sooner than finishing his final thought, the pressure laid upon him was gone. A single swipe, a heavy blow, ran across the top of the table and knocked right into the side of Avril's head which wobbled and tore out to the side followed by the rapid succession of her body…the side of the knife lying flat against Todd's chest where it gently slid down along his stomach before being lost from her fingers. Slumped on the floor, Avril had been subdued, and Todd just as quickly got back onto his feet, wiping down the wrinkles that had formed up along his blue jacket.

"What is going on?" Cassie shouted with much scorn in her voice, her hands still formed into tight bundled fists at her side as she shot a glare towards Todd. She took heavy puffs of air and examined the poor boy, the glint of the knife still teasing their eyes.

"This has gone on too far," Todd scrawled out, looking up to Cassie from under his thick brooding brow, "there's something more to this girl than just her incessant desire to be loved."

"Where are you going?" Cassie shouted out once more as Todd was treading into a fast pace beyond the kitchen.

"That girl Manda Neuvirth," Todd shouted back, "she did something to Avril, I don't think she's just controlling those boys through her natural charm…there's something more going on here and I intend to figure out what exactly that is before someone gets killed," he arched his head around to look down the hallway, seeing his exit from the apartment, "take care of her till I get back!"

* * *

Manda had once again taken to her ritual, donning the dark draping robe that fluttered around her body and ebbed and flowed around the solid gold laced flooring which glinted with the presence of the arranged six candles in a simple circle with their strong flaring flames. She waved up her arms, spreading them away from her shoulders to allow her thin clean fingers to become free of the fabric that fell over them, and when such a minor disturbance was dealt with, she steadfast made due with the lotus leaves, ripping them free of the plastic bag and mashing them up into the smaller little pieces, watching them float calmly into the golden chalice just ahead of her knees. She succumbed to heavy breaths, shocks of air from her lungs twisting and churning the leaf piece in the bowl as she pulled up from her side the next ingredient; cows blood. Holding the aluminum bottle with its top hovering above the bowl, the slippery red liquid dove into the leaves in an intricate spiral pattern, drenching the exposed veins of the leaves and inevitably building up a three inch high mass. With the strike of the wooden match piece and the subsequent toss inside, an instant shot of energetic light, a mixing of powerful blue and white flames erupted above her head, forcing the tilting back of her head so her eyes could meet the pointed top and its spread. "I need to know if he's dead," she cried out over top of the cackling and groaning of the mystical flame, "tell me that his love is for no one to have!"

Manda clasped her hands around the staff top, feeling around the circular wooden piece and allowing it to roll into her palm as she began to raise it above the height of her knees and above her head, preparing to twist and turn it to an upright position, to smash it undisturbed into the chalice's bowl as was a part of her regular ritual, only on this occasion, something was not quite right in the air. No sooner had she attempted to plunge the staff into the bowl, a slick black crescent shaped item blew across her at the rabid pace of a bullet, colliding with the tubular supporting extension of the chalice with extreme precision, toppling it down to it side where the contents flushed to the floor in a succession of blood and leaf bits, the fire formed being now a feature of the past…"No!" she cried out at the top of her lungs, her hands flipping madly at the fallen cradle in hopes of recollecting her lost possessions.

A flush of wind blew into the room, displacing the candles for nary a moment before quickly being joined by a patch of moonlight that heavily outweighed the slightly glow of the candles, save for one bat eared shadow that casted its girth along the floor and over top of the frightened girl whom cowered down lowly, hands wrapped tightly around the golden piece letting the liquids drench into her quilted thick garment. Her heavy breaths became the nightmare fuel of the room as a loud thud became audible to her side, drawing her interest instantly though the image was strongly to her dismay, "Manda Neuvirth," a growling voice ventured out from the darkness, "you have to stop all this power grabbing before it consumes you," the voice piqued up to a more concerned tone that brought some easy to her weary mind, "I know what you're doing…and it nearly brought you to murder someone! Is it really worth it?"

Her eyes began to quiver slightly as she watched the approaching figure come into the light of the circle standing candles; a sheen of black for the most part covered the muscular form from head to toe the only shattering differences being the solid round silvery grey disks that lined his forearms, loose fitting boots where the usual shin covering fabric flipped down to his ankles, the belt with its circular middle piece which glowed an ethereal blue, and finally the most important symbol of his night time persona, the falcon like bird presentation with its spreading wings across the entirety of its chest which closed off with a single diamond piece at the bottom signifying its tail; the beak, an angular strip that crooked down at the end, shot off to one side breaking off from an angled neck piece. It was enough imagery to frighten her for the teen hero Nightwing had managed to find his way to her home and catch on to her heinous notion of coercing love, "Mom…Dad!" she called out weakly.

Nightwing stepped back a bit in puzzlement, raising his hands up slight a foot ahead of his chest ready to flex into a defensive mode if necessary. He winked up his right eye and searched around the room for any movements that wasn't the fallen Manda and quite to his dismay, through the darkness, two beings arose with the gurgling screaming noise that varied from low to high, increasing at their decibel level as it became plainly evident that the thumping of the footsteps were drawing closer to him. Within two seconds of the screams becoming audible, Nightwing felt the a few sets of hands clasp along his body at variable places; his thigh, stomach side, shoulder and head. The force of the impact took up from the ground and tossed him like a ragdoll towards the back wall but not quite up against it entirely instead settling for the thin dividing line that signified the connection between the floor and the vertical wall. His back cracked up into it, leading to some minor moaning as he shook his head and slid his hands against the ground to rebuild his fighting strength, "you got the parents marked too?" he spat out as he looked across to Manda whom was hurriedly working away at the bag of lotus leaves, pulling up the chalice upright with hope of recreating the ritual.

Nightwing shrugged his shoulder and took a quick sniff of his nose, revving up his fists for conflict, seeing the darkened brooding figures of what must have been Manda's parents, the poor souls trapped within their love for their daughter that they were willing to do all that they could for her safety. The father was a taller fellow with limited muscular physique while the mother held to an averaging height but retained some exercise of her own, the candles and the window moon light however failed to be of much use in determining exact details laid within the cherished couple though he could plainly judge from a simple synopsis that the mother shared a great deal of similarity with the daughter that was most evident in her precious raven hair and curvy chin while the father could be narrowed down to one whom took to a career in business as evidenced by the fine dress wear including the luxurious coat that flapped around his body in his unorthodox movements.

It was the father first whom took to a dive against the teen hero, throwing his spread fingered hands to cling around the boy's throat or shoulders, but the man's form was certainly uncoordinated and slopping, Nightwing recognizing the awkward steps his feet took allowing him time to make his move. Side stepping backwards, he swivelled down on his back and slammed up his right fist into the man's open shoulder socket producing a pop loud enough to shock Manda's eyes open wide for a mere moment as she poured the liquid blood fell once more into the cradle. The Mother was not too far behind, but the task of taking her was not much more difficult to handle. Though she had significantly better shape in her stride, Nightwing placed up ahead of himself a hefty kick that levelled right into her stomach zapping her of air and dropping her to the floor. "Ah!" he shouted outward as he felt the stumbling blow of a fist colliding with his ear producing the most annoying of sensations that shattered like a multi-faceted tree branch throughout his brain and causing blistering pain at the back of his eyes; the father had overcome what must have been the most traumatizing of pain and had started the tussle with the boy once more.

Manda nimble worked her hands around the matchstick, feeling its squared shape between her fingers which hand connection could not help but shake rapidly without any hope for control. Her breaths now were no longer heavy, but rather rapid and overbearing for someone so young. The strike to produce fire and the subsequent drop into the gaping prepared bowl didn't help much to put her at ease, feeling the soaring strength of the white and blue tangled flame against her face and roaming down her neck producing a cold chill of sweat. "I need more power," she whimpered through a delayed voice, raising the rod at a much quicker pace than she had been accustomed to doing, desiring a much a sooner smash into the bowl. The background sounds of a collapsing one sided fight were falling victim to the cackle of the rejuvenated flames and smooching of the red liquid under the pressure of the staff piece, "give me the power to vanquish my enemies," Manda called out as her eyes began to shift away from their natural state into the ethereal blue that characterized the connection she had made with the god plane.

"Sorry," Nightwing cheerfully stepped in with a menacing tongue, "this ends now." Manda let out a heavy groan and froze with fright as she felt the connection of Nightwing's boot against her side, forcing the feeble girl to the ground, forced to relinquish the staff top to the care of Nightwing's hands as he knelt down to grab it. Falling to one knee, he raised the staff up over and beyond his shoulder and with the force of a hammer made the connection with the floor smashing the gold tentacle piece that formed its top into little pieces of rubble that scattered across the floor. A bright light broke loose from the chalice, forcing the instinctive raise of his hand to cover his eyes as it engulfed the room with its magnitude of energy forcing all things under its layer.

"Thanks for the assist Proxy," Nightwing stated proudly, holding to an stance outside the burnt out candle circle, the two foot staff piece still in his hand though the snake like connection that traditionally graced the top being notably absent, "can't say I would have found the place without you."

"No problem Todd."

Nightwing stepped through the circle, lightly sliding his foot over the fallen cup. He looked down at the fallen Manda, the curvature of her body all muddled but otherwise in a state of recovering if it had not been for the odd look in her still open eyes, the green irises of her natural beauty having changed to a bloodshot red that shook rapidly in all directions seemingly looking for something but never quite hitting the mark that it desired; she is comatose, a sad end to a rather power hungry girl, "have you called in the specialists to deal with this?"

"Yes, their en route."

"Better send out an ambulance also," Nightwing bowed his head, seeing the parents in the back in a likewise state, "this family is going to need a lot of help," he suddenly snapped from the distressing image and found himself looking away at a familiar shaped item not too far away from the slumping body, "hmm," he muzzled, "I found my cellphone."

* * *

"Sorry that I couldn't bring it back in better condition," Todd verbally came across as somewhat sincere as he raised the top bit of Hera's staff piece to Cassie. The two were standing at the edge of the kitchen area, facing in towards the gap leading into the dining area and subsequent entertainment room, "I uh, sort of had no choice in the matter," he smiled awkwardly as he raised a transparent plastic bag containing the dust and some large bits of gold pieces, remnants of the cracking blow he had administered to the staff piece. He took a deep gulp, "I've never been very good with all the magic talk, but from what I understand spells don't work if one of the primary objects is shattered…" he looked down to the floor, "I'm just sorry it had to be an ancient artefact."

"Yeah…" Cassie stuttered to get out as she accepted the baggie and rod in either of her hands, "I remember now where I've heard that last name before, Nanny Neuvirth…I think that's her aunt, she used to work in the archaeology wing at the Gateway museum, she was the one who sent out the missing notice…" she shook her head in disbelief before recognizing some dismay in Todd's position, the bowed head being some give away to the disapproval or shame that he was currently feeling, "Todd," Cassie slipped the baggie into her staff holding hand, clenching tightly with her fingers against it and with her now free hand placing it under the boy's chin and raising it up slightly, "it's not your fault, you did what you had to do."

"No, it's not that," Todd shook his head lightly, "I just don't understand what's going on and I can't help but think that it's because of this lack of understanding that lead to all of this."

"What are you trying to say?" Cassie pleaded.

"She tried to convince me to love her," Todd continued while his eyes wavered around, "but I couldn't, I didn't know how or something…I don't really even understand what that means. She consulted magic just to show me how, nearly killed someone, and I still couldn't and I think this is because…" he took a heavy breath as his eyes came to lock with the deep black irises, "Mr. Wayne has always taught me to hold high respect for all people by mere fact of their existence and then you, Artemis and Auntie Diana have always instructed me to hold the dignity of women especially high…but I can't help but think that these girls at my school, like Manda, just want me to debase them."

"Oh, Todd," Cassie started up but was sharply cut off by the moan of the familiar girl whose head sprung up from the top of the couch, appearing quite dazed as the steady hands rose to rub away at the sullen eyes.

"How she doing?" Todd questioned as he turned to look at the bright messy blonde haired girl he called his friend.

"She's been passed out the full hour you've been gone but she should recover quite nicely, this kind of magic only really effects the mind for a limited time…I hope you know how to contact her parents, I don't she should be walking in this condition." Cassie lightly placed her hand on his shoulder, a kind gesture for him to get moving, "go to her." And with that simple cue, the boy took to a light step out from the kitchen area to take his seat at the side of Avril.

"Hello," Todd spoke softly as he sat himself down in the cushion, taking well to the plush set up that the couch provided, sinking in well enough to be comfortable. Avril was less than comfortable however, having come to lay with her back against the seat, legs arched at the knees though steadily collapsing as she fondly smiled at the sight of her friend, swivelling around to sit up straight, "how you feeling?"

"What happened?" Avril posited her question, as she raised a hand up solemnly to scratch through her hair, "I came over…" she slowly stammered, seeking to find the order of events that had brought her here, "then we were in the hallway," her eyes shot up into Todd's, "what happened."

"Well that's convenient," Todd turned away from her nodding his head up and down while his hands slipped underneath his bottom to be sat on.

"What?" Avril shot up in a startling move, body shaking as she closed in on the confusion that deprived her of time, "what's convenient," she attempted to look to Todd's eyes, hands having completed her reawakening and fallen to her side for support in leaning forward towards him.

"Nothing," Todd scoffed with the shake of his head. He shrugged his shoulders, "you just sort of collapsed while walking…" his eyes widened crookedly to take a sly look at Avril, "we thought you had just fainted, but I guess it was a real sleeping spell."

"Hmm," she nodded, comfortably, "so this is your place? How did I get here?" she saw the blank stare that Todd gave her, the sometime blinking look that featured him so well as the cute mysterious boy with an innocent heart, "oh…" her lips puckered up a bit as she turned away from him, clasping her palms to the side of her face in an odd bit of shame that had flushed over her consciousness. "I didn't just come over for that did I?" she questioned to herself through a sob.

"What's wrong?" Todd looked to her with some concern.

"I've got a problem with you Todd," Avril coldly started up as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the couch backing, a scowl forming up on her face which slump down to her chest, "and I have to be completely honest about it before we can move on."

"What?" Todd's brow scrunched together as he found himself slowly shifting away from her, hands becoming free and reaching for some support on the upper top of the couch and the ledge of the seat.

"You know all those things I was talking to you about yesterday on our walk home?" Avril continued, never once attempting to make eye contact, "about affection and love and feelings and stuff…" she felt the motion of Todd's head in affirmation, "well…I think I might have all that for you, ever since we met I just felt this connection…and for the first time you've made me feel jealous when you end up talking to other girls," she paused allowing for her breath to take over. Todd continued in his blinking state, "I don't like it!" she spat out with scorn. "You're just so cute and innocent…I know you don't really understand any of this, and think that's part of what I like about you…but you're still just so polarizing…it's the reason why they all love you, and I don't want to end up being just one of those mindless girls," she slapped her palm against her knee before finally turned around to face Todd, buttoning her lips tightly, "I'm just looking for a friend…can we live with that?" she pleaded.

"Yeah," Todd softly responded with an affirming nod followed by a small smirk, "I'm fine with that."

* * *

"Evening, Proxy."

"Hello, good you're on. You've done well keeping me in suspense…How'd things turn out?"

"Well, I wanted to have just a friendly relationship, someone whom I could converse with who had a different perspective on the way things are, and I think we came to that understanding…though of that understanding I've having difficulty assessing."

"Did you both take it well?"

"I'd like to believe so…I've just never felt that way about someone before, it's kind of frightening. I always thought that I would be a freestanding person whom helped people where I could, but recently I've been rethinking my future. Why not settle down at some point? I can't be expected to hold down this lone crusade all my life."

"Those are some tough questions…why don't you think it through for the coming week; we should get together real soon."

"Alright…well I'm off to bed, feel really dazed after everything. Goodnight Prox-"

"Goodnight, Avril."


	23. Young Justice Beyond 6 Part 1

Young Justice Beyond #6  
Volume 1. Story 5  
Chariots of the New Gods (Part 1)

* * *

In Happy Harbour, along the coast of Rhode Island, a noteworthy monolithic cave on the sandy and crusted dirt shores was once more bustlingly with life, displacing the collection of dust that had come to inhabit its homely aura for decades on end. The pathway leading upwards was of a soft blue sand stone that twisted and curved slightly as it made its way upwards from the shore to become more solid and coarse towards the top of the small dividing hill where the mouth of the cave began with its curvature of solid rock. While the serene beauty of the swaying trees and man compiled structures existed in the world beyond this meagre shoreline, the individuals compounding the inside of the cave complex below were neither quiet nor collectively sound in their discussions. It was the first declared meeting of the new team of young heroes, one that had still forsaken the taking of the name or taken upon themselves a quantifiable command structure; but of these two vital concerns the members were currently divided on which one was the most important.

"We should hire a marketer; I have friends in high places that might be able to arrange us with one of the best," Nightwing, the self-declared leader, cried out with a cheer filled jeer as he leaned back in his near white chromed egg shaped chair, the one he had fancifully stained with his signature blue flacon on the backside, though evidence for the ingrained side oval bat logo still remained. He flipped up his feet from the floor and pulled them up over the wide circular oak table, letting his floppy off grey boots crash upon the top of the 'J' letter of the JLA logo that decorated the table top with its delicate gold hue.

"And what good would a marketer do us?" Interval chimed in with the voice of reason, lightly sending down the side of his clenched fists against the table. The young speedster had taken to his designated chair, one as similar to Nightwing's and the others that surrounded the table save this one had upon its backside the stylistic yellow-lightning bolt painted on, the standard emblem of all persons whom would call themselves Flash. He sat on the opposing side of Nightwing from where he leaned forward calmly while narrowing his eyes through his yellow stained goggle pieces to convey his dissatisfaction for his compulsive colleague.

"We need to build ourselves an image," Nightwing continued in a strange tone that saw the spreading of his words in a lingering manner while he hovered his flat laying hand in a foot long space from his body to achieve a physical connection with his words; however, the fact that his black cowl topped faced was aimed towards the glow of the dome cave ceiling above failed at provided the necessary inter-personal relation with his teammate, "we need a name that isn't only memorable, but something that encapsulates who we are as a team. And in order to become that team, we need an image that defines us…."

"We don't need an image," Interval snapped back before becoming flustered, "well, not just yet anyways. We're not even really a team yet…the go ahead that the league gave us was just to make a preliminary tryout to ensure that we wouldn't be going off and doing our own thing unofficially."

"You know, the audiences have been holding a much different tune," Nightwing slipped his feet from the table top, slamming to the ground to give assistance to the swivelling of the chair, turning off to his side to look upon the a major com screen, the wall sized board of electronic pixels that outcropped from the stone wall that held it upright. It became plainly obvious that they weren't the only two currently seated in the central room of the Justice Cave; a tall muscular robotic humanoid was seated in a large black padded barbershop like chair planted just a few paces away from the dash board of electronic buttons and gizmos that sat underneath the large screen. "Steele hit him up with that new clip of us taking care of those pterodactyl like things with Slobo…[YJB #5]" but the machine man simple sat there, arms perplexed in his thighs just below the ominous 'S' logo within the diamond shaped emblem that associated so famously to the hero formerly residing in Metropolis.

"No, I've seen it already," the young speedster snapped up in his hand in Steele's direction, not once taking his eyes from the bat-suited Nightwing across the way, "that was a major mistake on our part…we were under their influence. We were lucky to pull ourselves together and defeat them in time."

"No," Nightwing coldly retorted as he pulled himself back to the table, whipping up his index finger and flashing his hand at the speedster across the way, "that was an incident that showed us just how great a team we can be, comparable to the Titans or the League. We just need to step up into our roles."

Interval flipped his hands to the sides, lifting to his head like an imaginary box proceeded heavy yet quick inhale of precious air producing stuttering sensation when attempting to say something important, "you were the one who caused those entities to break through into our world from their prison in the first place!" he slammed the broadside of his hands against the table, "If you had told us what was happening or what was going on within that head of yours, then maybe we wouldn't have had to deal with that problem to begin with!" He let out a heavy sigh that saw the breaking mould of his shoulders, up and down with the current flow from his lungs outward. "They were war scavengers," he huffed, "who knows what kind of damage they could have caused if the gateway you opened became even more open with those beasts spilling out with their eggs!"

"I saved a good person from an imprisonment he didn't deserve," Nightwing softly spoke down to a whisper. He coiled back into the girth of his chair, head underneath the buttoning bullet top and retracting his hands to clasp around opposing forearms, "I saved a life…."

"You discussion annoys me greatly," the barren rattling voice of the electronic Steele boomed across the floor captivating the young heroes as his presence truly sunk in, "and while I thank you for such the experience, I feel as though my services may be put to more practical uses than social ones," the chair he sat upon squeaked at the rotating tubular mooring that held the primary seating plate in place as he rose up to his feet to achieve full strength. The rectangular slate of his mouth and eyes upon a rather flat face plate exterior further placed within the gawking boys the impression of his distressed state though they were not sure as to how, "I shall be off to deal with our training facilities…I have a great eagerness to test my full capabilities," he stepped along the silver sheen that coated the floor, one pounding step after another with the clanking noise rotations of the gears within his legs, making his way through the centre of the cave just narrowly missing collision with the chairs of the round table that sat off centre. Nightwing, his back facing the centre, held up his head to his chin to get a good look over his shoulder, "these such troubling feelings can be so easily satisfied with the implication of others," the heavy giant concluded as he came across the centre doorframe at the opposing end of the wall. And with the sliding movement of the doorway panel into its wall slot, he was gone off to do as he pleased in the privacy of his hard wired mind.

"Haven't you talked to anyone about this that might be able to help?" Interval continued in his uproar. "Surely you've told your family about," his head wobbled as he blinked his eyes compulsively, "this?"

"Can't you just shrug this off like the other guy," Nightwing positioned himself lower in his chair, absorbing the meagre comfort that the foam cushioning provided.

"I can't," Interval slid his hands off from the table, the coarse echo his words pounding at the whim of Nightwing's nerves when the speedster approached a snarling state of mind, "not if it gets me killed."

"And maybe that's your problem," Nightwing's authoritative overtone stepped in as his chest collided into the thick ledge of the table, "you're much too selfish…think about it. Why does the league advertise their existence? Why are the Titans so eager to make their living space recognizable from…space?" He paused a moment, head tilting widely to one side followed by minor waves of his hands in the air, but Interval stood his ground, sitting quite disinterested, "so that when the crazy super villains escape from the roulette doors in every prison, the first place they'll attack is not the innocent people but us, the super heroes."

"And then what happens when we become too content with our fame?" Interval slipped into a sarcastic tone as characterized by the rhetorical questioning period. "What happens when these villains do finally escape and they attack us and we're not ready to handle the situation because we were too busy building up a public profile instead of getting ready to face our trials head on?"

"I'm really going to have to hate on admitting this," a daring voice entered into argument bringing forth an opinion, the support of one side, which grew unevenly in strength as the source drew closer up the cave pathway leaving wake of green energy. The clean silver gently glistened with the sparkling tinge of emerald light tickling the eyes of the seated teen heroes, drawing their attention to the third and therefore balancing member when things broke down to a vote, Iota, the teen bestowed with power and responsibility that comes with a Green Lantern's ring. "But I'm going to have to agree with the twip," the robust image of Iota came to a sudden stop at the opening, pulling to a vertical stance as he descended to the floor, a small foot high drop.

Iota was quite unique from his Lantern colleagues, at least from the perception that his current young teammates had held of the Green Lantern Corp, and not just because of the implications his age forced upon his height and experience, though his above average physical physique at least made him comparable in that one category. The boy kept his hair short, a darkened black that spread out from his scalp like small plaster spikes that hung overtop a drastically sharp lined rectangular bar piece that formed the foundation of his green facial mask; outcropping from the far sides of the mask were angular pieces that rode up to both his temples and down to the sides of his cheeks curving ever so slightly into the front of his face. Of the more matching apparel were the gloves and boots which held a very jagged boxed appearance that continued quite high up all four limbs splicing off mere integers of hitting the main central joints with the only exception to the full cover rule being his fingers which he allowed to roam freely beyond the palm encasement. The top bracket of his shoulders, spanning along the line of his shoulder blade and wrapping above, was the only solid green abstraction to the otherwise full black spandex suit that moulded quite admirable to his form. The most important of details to his self-designed uniform was the emblem piece that sat central upon his chest, a strong patterned green hexagonal shaped line which possessed inside its perimeter two white triangle pieces with their points situated against each other at the middle producing a rather hour glass type appearance though the surrounding black formed a very lantern like form.

"The league is successful as it is because they throw themselves out there into the public realm to deter the acts of those who would harm others," Iota continued in quite a tight voice as he stepped towards the edge of the table, not particularly looking towards anything but oddly kept his head straight centred on the table encompassing gold entrenched letters, "if we put ourselves out there as a team they might actually think twice about doing anything at all; they can't take us all on." Iota slapped his hands to his waist and smiled, taking the time to look confidently at his teammates. "I know that's part of the reason my crews didn't go out some nights…" he sighed with his concluding remarks.

"Yes, but the league isn't working with a bluff," Interval stepped in once more with his contrasting opinion, an invariable calmness still holding to his face despite the strength of his voice, "they have the power to back themselves up. What we have is a machine humanoid that has a limited understanding regarding the concept of living, an inexperienced and unteachable boy with the most powerful weapon in the universe, a spastic child with an x-factor we can't account for and someone who is uncertain as to why he was forced to be stuck here in the first place."

"Cause you need friends," Nightwing chimed in. The spastic human pressed his hands flatly against the table top, using his strength there to help propel him to his feet while attracting the passing glares of his comrades, "you need to know what it's like to work with others, to be part of a team and family that cares for you…to learn from one another and become the heroes we were meant to be."

"And what happens when we thwart enough of these villains?" Interval readily snapped back, switching to look to Iota and Nightwing as he attempted to reaffirm his point, "suppose we acquire people whom no longer have a desire to harm anyone but just harm us…somewhere along the way they learn who we are, who we know and care about. That's who they'll attack, who they will kill…."

"Hey, do you guys hear that?" Iota's voice cut into the dry silence that evolved following Interval's decisive conclusion. It was a strange whispery delight that floated around their ears, blistering strongly enough however to put them at significant odds in hearing each other's voices. Iota took some small awkward steps back towards the cave opening, hands shirking off to his sides with nimble fingers rotating as his vision panned upward from the table top to the area of space above.

"I think it's coming from above the table!" Interval shouted out as he braced his hands around the thickness of the table to throttle himself away from the encroaching tunnel of wind that had conceivably forced itself within their cave, disrupting their company meeting. He took to his feet and took a few steps back towards Iota, once glancing at his colleague before focusing upon the swift current of winds in the air space above the centre of their table, that while not being visible to the natural human eye, could be felt quite well by the speedster's innate tune for all moving forces around him.

Interval was quite noted for his more gritty redefinition of the Flash uniform, breaking free from the typical wear that often became associated to a speedsters under The Flash's tutelage would come wear primarily on account of the defined Kid Flash outfit having been only slightly updated by that of the current Flash to accommodate her needs upon the sudden disappearance of the former Flash, her father Wally West. The scarlet red so typical to the family remained boldly displayed over top of the rather varnished black body suit, present in his shin high running boots, dual black strapped down gloves that meagrely reached beyond his wrists, his cowl piece which left only the region below his nose open, and the triangular chest piece that began at first around his shoulders and angled downwards towards his waist where it cut off with thin wispy lightning bolts riding like a belt over top of his leg joints. The familiar circle white crest on his chest was retained with the shattering yellow bolt still in place, bursting through the circular boundary at an angle; this also came along with the silver pieces that sat on either side of the cowl right where the ears were located which sprouted out from their circular centres wire strange of the same lightning bolts that broke out and trailed behind his head a near inch. His eyes were near impossible to see behind the heavily yellow tinted goggle pieces that further led to distractions to those attempting to venture within on account of the glint that they exuded in the more than adequate lighting.

Both Iota and Interval soon found their eyes at a match when the wind current converted into a vacuum tight conduit that brought for at its eye a baseball shaped force of light that suspended itself in the air above the centre of the table. The light that it appeared to give off was a rather poorly tinted yellow at first, but in less than two seconds of the energy accumulating it redefined itself, boldly becoming much larger in is parameters as it gently began to move in a clock work projection. Swirling around like the hurricane shaped wind pattern, the ball began to deform, stretching and contorting into lengthy spider web like bands and cords that swivelled around like an opening net that shattered outward from the its small size no sooner than when it arrived.

"Wow," Iota commented, his right hand raised above his brow to block out what light he could but would still enable him to take a look within the swirling galaxy in their cave. He looked across to Interval briefly and recognized that while the young speedster held a similar posture to stare into the opening net of bright inter-connected cords, he was much less enthusiastic or interested, maintaining the swollen brooding exterior that dictated his preparedness for all and every situation, "that is really something…."

The netting appeared to stretch out in its round formation to eclipse the size of the table in its magnitude but nonetheless keeping just slightly above it reaching nowhere near the ceiling. The frontal rectangular rungs of the circular netting were a near foot in length by estimate when the swivelling patterns were slowly to a solid state, but of such quick guesses were important because while the field of cords ahead of them was in of itself a two-dimensional placement, the inner rungs beyond the first strength grew increasingly smaller and smaller, into the bright orb of light in what could only be feasibly described as the far distance; this was a portal of sorts, a tunnel with its exit leading into the Justice Cave.

"Alright, I'm confused," Iota spoke up, understandably relieved that the air currents had died down significantly barring the need to shout, "what is that thing?" he turned over to Interval for answers in his puzzlement but the intellectual of the three felt himself incapable of providing for his Lantern comrade any answers that would suffice, settling for a shrug of his shoulder in unison with the heavy expulsion of his held breath.

"It's a Boom Tube!" Nightwing shouted as jolted up from his chair, quickly adopting a spattering run for the other side of the table where his teammates stood stunned in front of the wormhole styled gate that was opening before them. The child normally referred to as being a coherent part of the Batman family was actually quite less than his costume conveyed, having taken an association and name with a member noted for his disassociation from the Robin title under Batman's guidance. This fact was further compounded by his parental heritage that dictated his inclusion in a family he seldom wished to be a part of, though he felt quite well with his aunt Cassie.

The boy's costume had changed drastically from the domino mask boy wonder of a previous generation, opting for a more full body black tight suit that possessed within its fabrics an assortment of electronics and devices that enhanced his strength tenfold with a full cowl piece that provided him with multiple forms of vision and variable radio wave accesses. Much like his floppy grey boots, he additionally had matching gauntlets around his forearms, the bulging shiny silver top that sprouted out from the top of his arm acting more or less as a compartment for his more signature weapons. Of most importance to him however was the logo, the spanning falcon wings in their crisp geometric fashion that saw four decreasingly sized flaps hanging out from the main branches, ascending to the smaller at the top, while two appropriately sized beaks sprouted out to the left on his chest from the neck thereby signifying his noteworthy place in the legacy's line-up.

Nightwing slid in between the two of his teammates; all three of them, including Interval now, interested in the foreboding noise of tapping, footsteps that appeared to grow in mass and volumes as though approaching. The sound kept them on their toes, ready for the most likely threat that awaited on the other end though the figure, this entity coming through, though shadowed to the darkest form imaginable, appeared to be anything but threatening, approaching the three in a gently walk that one would mistakenly believe as being friendly.

"Who is that?" Iota bluntly questioned. His hand dropped softly to his sides, the guarding strength of his emerald energy being dropped from around his person and rescinding back to his ring following the sight of the less than concerned, if not eager, Nightwing. Interval quickly followed suit, letting the burden of his raised shoulders slump down. Nightwing shook his fisted hands in anticipation of the figure that was blotting out the bright light image of the distance tunnel.

In the far distance within the wormhole, the boys had squinted to see a black blob that seemingly growing in immensity within the netting of the wormhole, but when the illusion of the spaced rungs of the netting became more evident their imaginations began to kick in and they saw that the figure was in fact growing but was drawing closer and closer to them. Within mere seconds of being noticed, the blob had encompassed full formed limbs and a distinguishable head, a humanoid in the loosest sense of the word, that only became more well defined when the figure was within throwing distance.

"I have come here in search of Emperor Todd!" The authoritative voice sent a spike of shock through Iota's and Interval's bodies, sending them somewhat wildly backwards nearly lifting them from their feet; Interval because of the words that were spoken and Iota more so on account of just what kind of person had presented these strange words with such ferocity. She was no doubt a titan of a force, a girl that could be no older than themselves, rivalling the lot of them with her impressively shown physique that made Iota quite jealous, though prominent thoughts of desire made him less likely to admit to any such negative temperaments outside of an internal quip. Her skin was a light purple, accentuated to a darkly shade only in her thickly sharp lips, tear shaped glossed eyes long with large encompassing irises, and shapely thick cords of hair that flexed around her back side and hovered around and just over one shoulder.

The clothing she had taken too appeared quite military in regards to the numerous straps around her limbs and torso, blocking from view the rather hard looking shield plates. Over her chest she wore a dark tunic of sorts, a vest piece that was absurdly bulky looking and presumably heavy under the pressure of the small strands that wrapped over her shoulder; however the piece was full in its composition, tightly conforming to the well curved values of her middle body, seamlessly pulling together right in a wide raise that circled her outer thighs and clasped in between. Just below this tunic were light metallic grey straps that ran from underneath the lower tunic and continue through the full length of her upper thigh. As it was though, the stretch of band did not go down much further, stopping at the mid-thigh thereby leaving much of her legs widely exposed. The thick plated boots began at her knee joint reaching down to her ankles to form quite the wide placing soles, a necessary feature for the horseshoe shaped silver sheen bracket that rested on curvature of her leg to foot and rode down the side in robust rectangular boxes on either side of the foot that blended into the sole. Her arms were in a similar pattern, her shoulders and upper arms exposed all the way down to the top of her forearm where the rest of her arm soon turned over to heavy gloves with its thick plated fabric completely flowing around her individual fingers and very much like the boots, had near two inch long metallic bracelets. She was one bred for combat and placed herself upright in such a menacing position that shared the notion that she would not be deterred from her mission in finding the man she desired.

"I know that she's an alien," Iota raised a brow as he looked over to Interval, "but do you think she wants to be a part of the team?"

"I know not of what you speak Lantern," the girl scowled with a harming glare falling upon the emerald tinted boy, "I have come here to find Emperor Todd, to what have you done with him? I am willing to fight so that he may continue to bring guidance and protection to his children!" She spoke out in a fluster of strength that prevented either one of the three from attempting to provide an answer. She nodded her head from side to side, analyzing the bemused boys ahead of her before succumbing to her training in locating and seeking what armaments that the cave might contain to harm her, "where is he, I know that he was here most recently," she drew out the attention of Interval, pulling her hands to fists, raised and ready to jump down and unleash a volley of her prowess upon him. But Interval came across as less than amused, that while she saw herself as a significant threat to his wellbeing and showed such willingness in her eyes, he for one saw what little actual threat this person posed. He was annoyed, slapping his arms across his chest and tapping his right foot against the floor, developing an air of disapproval all about him when his attention shifted over to Nightwing.

"Mellany!" Nightwing shouted out, grasping his hands together ahead of his chest as he looked up to her in his smiling approval. The boy rapidly whipped his hands to the side of his face, tapping into the circuitry of his mask to break it of its rigid emplacement, turning it to a loose cloth like material that lifted from his head with ease, revealing his true persons underneath. And there he was, this beautiful child with the most pure of silky black hair and ocean blue eyes that along with the pretty full tooth grin made the girl standing on the table body slump and shake uncontrollably on account of an unfortunate gaffe in her greeting. Within a fleeting second, the soft blue pigmentation of her skin shifted, altering out to a candy pink as though her skin was nothing more than a container which held onto the precious coloured liquids that gave her life.

"I am so sorry sire," Mellany lowered her head and spoke the words, suddenly dropping to the table with a force that no doubt caused some damage to the wooden exterior. She knelt down on one knee, the other rose up to her inward curving shoulder, head bowed as low as comfort could permit thereby causing for the spread of her cord like hair to sporadically form a veil around her upper form.

"No," Todd spoke with a cheer that was teetering on flustering disbelief, "what are you doing?"

Mellany's head suddenly shot up, wide eyed with lips forming into puckered cusps of red. She took a heavy gulp and brushed away the hair from her face revealing a strange pinkish tint that had overcome her, assuredly puzzling the two people in the cave not in the know, "I am so sorry sire," she spoke with a heavy heart as she slid towards the edge of the table, feeling her hands around the thick ledge and pulling herself over to get on the floor where she assumed the same position of humility, "please forgive me for causing your displeasure."

"Ah Mellany," Todd shot back with a shake of his head as he came across with a rather dry tone, "what are you doing on the floor," his smile continued as he nicely knelt down to tap upon the girls shoulder. Gracing his fingers around Mellany's shoulders, he gently pulled upon her, raising her up with the straightening of his own knees. He locked eyes within her for some time as the understanding had formed between them, he was certainly the boy she desired; "Come here," he started with a chuckle, tightening his grip around her and pulling her up close to his chest.

"I hate him," Iota turned his side to Interval, rising up a ring fist with its inspiring glow to his face; "I really hate him!"

Interval stepped forward, knocking Iota back upright and displacing the resentment that he had held within him for the moment. He came to a stop three paces away from the hugging individuals and clasped his hands to his sides, "who is she?" he beckoned over to Todd, seeing the bright boys chin pop over top of Mellany's shoulder.

Todd's eyes bolted open suddenly as he kindly moved away from Mellany's sagging grip, "this is my child-"

"Child!" Iota scoffed out in a voice so audible it echoed throughout the cave.

"Mellany…" Todd concluded. The warrior girl's backside appeared to them to be quite relaxed from the image she portrayed upon their meeting table, the exposed mid legs and upper arms having shifted deeply from the pink into a harder blushing red. She turned slightly to her side to face Todd's friends while perfectly avoiding a full frontal appearance of her face, forcing them to only be able to see half formed smile characterized by buttoned lips and narrowed lids over top of the displaced iris, but of more striking was the rather pinkish blotches around the full redness of her face. She took small sniff and crossed her arms tightly around her stomach as she slouched away from them so as to recuperate in some privacy.

"Yes," Interval continued with his prodding, "but what is she doing here?" he looked across the formed Boom Tube opening, "and where did she come from."

Mellany pulled her eyes shut and bent her neck backwards on a rotating cycle in a form of exercise as she slowly shifted her feet to face Iota and Interval, the flushing tones of colours within her skin having rinsed down to a delicate hue of baby blue…she appeared to be at a normal ease now, facing down the boys with hands clasp at her waist with a slight tip of her head to sign off her understanding for the questions posed of her presence. "These are my teammates, Interval and Iota," Todd rubbed his shoulder in close to her side and motioned with his outer hand the bodies of Interval and Iota in a caring fashion that brought Mellany's eyes to theirs, though they were less than receptive to the boy's charm with the strange invading girl at his side.

"Answers?" Interval butted in shortly.

"Well," Todd squeaked, "I don't know." He shrugged his shoulders just as Mellany was calling for his attention.

"I have the unwilling task of bringing you the most distressing of news," Mellany began in an uptight voice, a habit of speech developed as one the premier messengers of her home world, "New Spiritus is under the threat of war once more."

"What?" Todd stunted into concern.

"Kalibak, son of Darkseid, has returned to your world with an army that our peaceful people are unprepared to go up against," Mellany continued in her shortened fashion, keeping the breaths in-between the words to a minimum, "He desires your position on the throne. If you refuse to meet him in combat, he will destroy all that we have worked so hard to build…he will bring back Apokolips."

"Darkseid," Interval whispered.

"Apokolips?" Iota questioned in the continue scoffing loudness.

"Have you tried to contact Superman?" Todd hastily shot back, concern within his eyes as he lunged into looking at hers, "How about Orion?"

"All their messengers, those whom we have sent out to seek their council, have failed to locate them," Mellany sharply responded. "Please, you must come with me," she pleaded lightly tapping her hands upon the sides of his arms, "we need your help more than ever."

"Of course I'll come," Todd responded in a reassuring manner.

"Alright," Mellany looked away to the Boom Tube opening, "we must leave for New Spiritus as soon as possible."

"Team," Todd looked to his friends, puffing up his chest and assuming the most leadership laced voice he could hope to muster from his less than heroic frame, "there is a world in trouble as we speak…it is our duty to ensure that peace is achieved and stabilized before a war is sought out as a solution."

"Oh…" Iota coughed, placing a hand to his mouth as he further stepped back, now venturing inward of the pathway leading out, fear lacing itself through every integer of his crumbling body.

"That seems to me to be quite a big step, doesn't it?" Interval questioned with a bit of a moan.

"What?" Todd looked at them puzzled.

"Yeah, even I've heard of Apokolips…"Iota started up, "it's where you don't want to go when you die."

"Darkseid is still a name that planets throughout the universe in my time fear," Interval started, "I feign to think that any of us are in the same league as him."

"Well don't worry about it…" Todd shirked his shoulders, producing one of his classy smiles to alleviate the qualms and worries that that his comrades appeared to have succumbed to, "he's dead!" silence quickly eclipsed the room, a decade of seconds that was not only awkward but was filled with confused stares, save for Todd of course; he was frozen in his state of happiness, mouth slightly open with his teeth full shown, "ahh…" he sighed, letting his jaw become limp, "I'll explain it when we get there."

* * *

The flipping energy bands of the Boom Tubes netting suddenly broke out from its central orb, snapping free of their connective state to become the recognizable open netting that characterized the space faring tunnel; from the cave to the other side of the universe. The exit of the wormhole was forming within a chamber of sorts, a room so large that it was more akin to an indoor arena than the defined foyer that its purpose was. The floor, the walls, and the high ceiling above were of a die cast clay red that fell in line with its stone like composition, cleansed to its highest degree and devoid of any imperfection in its construction. A series of wall connected pillars stood evenly spaced of another on the broad sides of the rectangular shaped room which had emplaced upon their tops close to the ceiling glass cone shaped objects that were melted into its composition and shining brightly with their unseen bulbs giving off more than adequate illumination to the monstrous size of this room. At the centre of each broadside were large openings, doors that were unfortunately well blocked by the presence of glistening steel doors that were of a single sheet, but these such opening were of minimal importance in comparison to the one at the obvious front of the room. The straight horizontal line of front wall was cut out at its centre, the usual wall that would fulfill the rectangular shape having only a few metres indebted on either side allowing for a cumbersome extension of the room that was not to unlike the primary room in consideration of its monstrous size, but it was the shape that served much difference. The stage like plateau at the front was two steps upward from the main floor and continued frontward for quite some distance before its walls narrowed down along the side till it had formed half circle cut out. Lights, similar ones to the cones present upon the pillars, circled around this tubular high rise shape providing quite the lighting for this particular long strip of metal that ran near full the circular circumference of the wall though it failed in reaching higher than a single story; it was certainly movable, another door, but it was much more majestic and noteworthy than the others for its glossy golden glow.

"Where are we?" Iota questioned gingerly as he stepped along the ending rungs of the boom tube with the three individuals he had come along with. He stood on one of the outer sides, walking alongside the girl referred to by Todd as Mellany, while Todd stood next to her and Interval further on the other outside whom appeared quite dissatisfied over the apparent self-enforcement of a slow speed when crossing over with his colleagues, a speed he had little respect for.

"We have arrived in the constellation…what your people have called the Belt of Orion," Mellany shortly responded, not once turning her attention to the boy whom questioned her as she stepped down to the solid state of the chamber floor. She shook her body loose, quite ecstatic to having returned home but most unwilling to share this kind of comfort she had lest she be viewed by her superior as being weak. She held to a darker rare blue but this was sharply rambling upward towards the royal purple that had first characterized her skin when she had surprised the team in their damp cave.

"Another world…" Iota whispered under his breath, swallowing a heavy gulp as he turned away from the line.

"It's quite far away from earth when you consider your form of measurement," Interval commented as he too stepped down with the others, breathing a sigh of relief as he came to touch the solid clay plaster composition of the floor, "but don't be too concerned, humanity will be this far soon enough…" he brushed his head up to take a look down the row catching the attention of all three of them, blaring their eyes open in his direction, "I've travelled farther."

"Humanity may reach to this region of space in time," Mellany looked away and took a heavy step forward from the line up, "but the only way to reach into this realm is by Boom Tube," she slipped her hand around to her back side and tugged away at an object that was packaged there, a grey rectangular device that fit well into her palm. At the top end of the device, right at the base of her fingers was a thick black outline of a circle which stored within it a glass piece. She tapped upon this button with her thumb, "and only a select few have been granted such a power." Within seconds of the tap, the spiral movements of the Boom Tube's netting started up again, contorting back into the orb that it was formed inevitably dissipating into the air. The three teen heroes watched the process occur in front of them, interested in the other worldly technology that will allegedly be out of reach for their kind.

Along the broad walls, a short two metres indented away from the wall itself, were wide tables that stretched near the full distance of the room though cut at the centre where the doors were located; clean white table cloths draped the tops of the tables with their fabric pieces just barely gracing the floor with its thin ledges. Upon the tables were golden glossed plates and assorted bowls that occasionally were stacked upon one another. While these priceless objects did draw the eye quite well, it was the more appealing edible items that they contained; the varying breads and odd coloured fruits, the foliage of green that circled the outlines of the bowls that supported a salad fuelled delight, but for the most part much of these edible delights were much different from anything they had ever seen before which in some cases had quite a desirous effect on them.

"I haven't been here since the war ended," Todd sheepishly stepped around in a small circle, looking towards all the delighting features of food and the wonderfully clean composition of the room, "you've been doing quite well in all this time?"

"We believe that we have followed well in the path that yourself, Superman and Orion have given us," Mellany replied with courtesy as followed with a small bending bow of her body in a polite gesture.

"What is all this stuff," Iota took to quick a quick pace to reach the edge of the table where he saw the emerald glow of his body emanate back at him from the outer shine of a particularly large golden bowl containing within it an illustrious blood red liquid that appeared to boil with no sign of heating source underneath at the base.

"Appetizers for Emperor Todd and his guests," a voice at their backside boomed into the room with a hefty straight voice that was drenched with the wisdom and age of a philosopher.

Iota pivoted on a single leg, using the bulb of his foot to make a sharp turn to look upon the figure that had provided for him an answer that stunned him with the sense disbelief, but that of a good kind "Appetizers?"

The figure was tall and spindly, his head quite massive in its egg shape by comparison to the rest of his body which appeared to be ideally symmetrical in the fact that his shoulders were quite widely placed out from his neck before sinking in deeply at the sides to a waist line that could not be any longer than span of a grown man's hand where it then fluttered out at angles to make a hovering circle as a result of the draping white cloth of a dress that he wore. The collar was quite extensive in its formation, three thick bands of flattened fabric producing a strangely layered look as it drew smaller and smoothed out to the centre. His arms were notably stubby, but his hands were quite spindly with fingers fully outreaching the length of his palms to become nearly pencil like in their reach. The only portion of this being's body that was recognizably close to earth bound humans was the beings face, the classic wise man's appearance with the thickly flesh curving into puddles of wrinkles that accumulated up the ridge of his forehead and into bulges on his cheeks, sagging down to his chin line. His eyes were weary, a full flushed blue that only resonated a simple black dot for a pupil while a sickly heavy white hatched brow sunk over his lids. A foot high simple circular pillbox red hat was fitted on his head to be completely level, covering the obvious baldness that he was. He was man of humility, his body having suffered under the tyranny of man hoped to be long gone but regardless of the freedom given, he was still willing to make a sacrifice himself further to ensure that those principles stayed enshrined. "Of course," he continued, "before the celebration for the glorious return of our hero."

"Who are you?" Interval stepped towards the speaking figure with a questioning reach of his hand.

"I am Vice Roy Lucic," the sickly being raised his stubby arm, placing the extension of his hand at above his thin waist and knelt bent down his head lightly, "I am nothing more than a lowlie in the service of the gods."

"You honour me with your presence," Todd returned with a voice that was much too cheery a tone for the poor Lucic to handle. The boy stumbled on towards him, working his way through the breakage in the long table leading to the entrance way he had come from, "it's so good to see you again," he waved out his hands and lightly placed them on the shoulders of the frail being, drawing his head to look up to his.

"I am ashamed that we could not celebrate your return under better circumstances," Lucic's old eyes fluttered.

"It's Ok," Todd affirmed, dropping his hands from their supportive position, "this is what I'm here for."

"Your friends," Lucic tipped his head around Todd to take a look upon the strange individuals whom Todd had taken into his company, "a child bestowed with a Lantern Ring, troubled by its great power and uncertain as to what to do with it…" Iota looked to the man, puzzled as anyone else could be, "an abandoned boy, forced to take upon a legacy all alone," the words caught the ire of Interval whom squinted his eyes in their general direction, "these are your friends?" he questioned as he brought his attention back to Todd.

"They're as a heroic as their calling makes them…" Todd distanced himself backward, hands waved out to his sides as he twirled around to face his friends and back to Lucic, "I'd like for you to make them as welcomed as I have been, new gods of this world."

"As you wish," Lucic knelt down his head once more and backed up to the door once more. "Your children have gathered around the courtyard awaiting your presence…."

"Schway!" Todd exclaimed with the throttling nod of his head up and down. The boy felt his body jolt with excitement, a feeling that eased its way from his corrupted mind to the ends of his limbs producing a mild numbness in the soles of his feet which pounded hard against the floor causing spikes of energy back up in a mirroring effect. He was building a path to the stage, at least so it would seem…with less than a five second dash between himself and the first step leading up to the upper plateau, he swiftly tracked his steps side to side, producing a divergent pathway towards one side of the outcropping walls of the rectangular figure.

"Are you not going to tell us what's going on here?" Interval took some small steps towards Todd whom had placed his hands upon the wall, head looking upwards to see the trace marks of his hovering hands.

"Like, I thought this was a war planet…" Iota started up before trailing off to silence upon the rise of a pleasant feeling when seeing the crossing steps of Mellany as she made her way to Todd at the front of the room. He narrowed his vision upon her, watching the fine movements of her body where the unique muscles flexed and contorted for their designed motor movements; however, the fascination that he held lasted only so long for it came to his attention that she was quite aware of his eyes tailing her and decided to shake him up in her way. Her long hair, in its stringy texture, grated along her backside, moulding into a thickly strand that line her arm thereby allowing for the full view of the side of her face, angled as it was upon her cleaned shoulder to produce a snapping glare back at the boy lantern; the blue tan of her chameleon like skin was slipping away to a dark hue that exemplified her pristine lips as they formed a peculiar thought provoking smile. "Yeah…" the rectangular eyes slits of his mask seemingly widened to reveal more of the sickly greenish white caps that covered his eyes while at the same time he appeared to have lost control of his lower jaw bone, "didn't uh, Darkseid try to destroy earth a decade or two ago? I mean, I've seen the footage of the invasion and everything…" He shook his head in a rapid jittering fashion, a short sighted attempt to regain the normalcy lost to the girl from another world.

"You guys…always dwelling on the past," Todd chuckled, not once taking the time to look back to his teammates, instead focussing upon the wall where he held his hands hovering around looking for just the right location. When he felt that his hands had reached into the right positions, he twisted his left hand vertical to his face, his pinkie side facing the wall which he proceeded to slam against with a stunted force of strength as though he were attempting to cut right as he believed himself capable of cutting solid stone with a chop.

"Todd," Interval tossed his hands out in a feeling of revile, somehow upset by the boy's carefree attitude, "I'm from seven centuries in your future…I know who Darkseid is," He annunciate clearly, tapping upon each word as though it possessed its own sentence, "what is going on here?"

"Well," Todd finally turned the side of his head to look to them with a suspicious look in his eyes, "why don't you come take a look?" He started to run his hand down in a line as straight as he could place it, but the sound of scrapping did not ensue as one would have expected, instead producing a light humming noise that most certainly emanated from the white lighting trail that was left in the wake of his moving hand. He traced the lightning line down to his stomach height, bending down appropriately to reach the required distance, before cutting a ninety degree angle to make a horizontal line away from the stage a good metre. Dropping his hand from the support of the wall, he let out a sigh and stood back to look at the two line image that he had produced on the wall, small bolt shaped pieces of the internal electrical storm occasional slipping free of the straight line. But within moments of finding his work admirable, another set of line sprouted out at the opened ended tips, a pair that was identical to the original two forming into a pattern that was quite consistent with the formation of a rectangle.

Interval was quite aware of the processes that were occurring and calmly took to a path that led him there, Iota on the other hand was intrigued in the sparking geometric shape that formed with the slight movements of Nightwing's hand; what kind of technology turns solid stone into glass?

Interval, who had come to stand at Nightwing's side and hence the one closest to the stage, rose up his right arm and planted it side against the newly formed window, sighing loudly as let his head slip against the bulging muscle of his arm, "what is this all about?" the contact movement of his uniform, cowl to sleeve, squeaked as he looked across to the still smiling, wide eyed glared of Todd additionally catching the appearance of Mellany down the way whom had also taken to quite the open smile as she glared through the window, her head arched so as to see as far as she could downward.

It was inspiring view from where they stood, the glass was quite thick as it stood quite congruent with the wall it had phased out from thereby making it quite difficult to look down to the ground from, but an issue such as that one failed to deter Todd from planting his face up as close as possible to sneak that peak at his so called children. The other two nearest too him, Interval and Mellany, looked out to the ocean of clouds without the willingness to strain their vision in finding the sea of people along the planet's ground, opting instead to accept the existence out of spite, though Interval did find himself sometimes venturing down to the miniscule movements of what looked like a solid plane of varying colours at the corner of his eye.

Interval soon determined that the floor they were on was at the very least twelve stories high thus providing quite a mellow view of the delicate orange cloud lines; the large puffy rounding features appeared quite infinite in their grasp and coverage of the sky, though the image frosting through the glass was quite dim in catching the strength of the light glistening through. The complete view would have been undisturbed had it not been for a multitude of high standing pillars, continuous cubed constructs that visually exuded the clay red composition that defined the foyer they were in. They were at the very least two and a half metres wide on each side and quite seamless, devoid of any details that would signify them as being for a purpose other than just being for fashionable decoration. The tops of the strip heading along the window could not be seen, but further along in the distance the pillars grew smaller on account of their visual angle, making their tops visible and pattern most obvious; the main strip breaking off from the straight line across the window seemingly bent out diagonally from where they were standing, producing a pathway like set up as though it decorated the outside of a main road.

"They," Todd started up, "are throwing a celebration in honour of my return."

"Who died and made you king?" Iota finally was able to re-establish himself and make his way to the window, coming to a stop just two steps short of colliding with the shoulders of his fellow humans. He pulled his hands together, flexing his fingers into one another followed by the tilting of his head to one shoulder upon realizing that Todd had turned to face his questioner.

"Darkseid," Todd simply replied.

"What happened?" Interval spoke up. The speedster dropped his arm from the glass pane as he turned towards Nightwing, forming the triangular formation that the three teen heroes were becoming used to forming. The cold demeanour that he maintained was instantly picked up by Todd whom dropped his smile and knelt down his head a little in a bit of misplaced shame.

Todd stepped out from his point, scratching the back of his head as the thoughts cooled and became words, "I don't know," he quietly slipped out with a softer conforming tone that was completely unlike the person they had seen him as, "see, when I first arrived in this universe…" he came to a stop, his arm dropping loosely to his side, hanging out from his body like a lifeless scarecrow. "Superman saved me," his head arched back up to his proper orientation which was followed by the hasty return of the upbeat voice that everyone was so akin to, "Mellany had come looking for him to help in this civil war here on Apokolips, but he was already gone…but I offered to help them where I could and so we just took off. But when we arrived on Apokolips, something odd had happened in the boom tube and we arrived a few weeks later than we had thought. And it turned out that Superman and this guy called Orion had already taken care of all the hard stuff with the people here…" he turned back to his colleagues, "Superman had me rally the people, to be a voice for the resistance and I played my role in keeping these people together and believing in a future."

"Darkseid had been sick for some time," Mellany stepped in, walking out from the line up and across the floor towards Iota once more causing some further disruptions in his mental coherence of the situation at hand, "it became apparent that his long-term exposure to the omega-effect was playing serious havoc on his biological functions. Within weeks of realizing his inevitable fate, the crushing mental control he had upon the us…people he had ruthless kidnaped from other worlds and enslaved," she pulled her fingers into a fist, raised to her shoulder height, "there we had the opportunity to be free as our natural living intended it to be and with the help of Emperor Superman of Krypton, The new god Orion and Emperor Todd of Earth, we could achieve our goals!"

"So there I was invading the palace, side by side with Superman and Orion," Todd continued in his uplifting story, applying wavy hand movements to exemplify the greatness he considered himself to be, "before I knew it, I was in his chamber bring him down to his knees. He had perished in combat and the reign of this evil tyrant was no more." His suddenly began to swell up, crinkly with thought, the eagerness that had founded the story's narrative having left him. As such, he could not help but narrow his vision to see the tops of his feet, "and then he had hit me with his final act…" he stuttered out in a whisper that was barely audible, "something red…from his eyes?"

"Sire," Lucic's voice cut in, "your page boys have arrived." The side steel door behind Lucic suddenly burst open, sliding off to the side to reveal the hallway wall which maintained the overall red theme of the inner chamber they all stood in though it was not long till shadows made their way up along the back wall, tracing images of moving specimens that appeared to grow large but when they finally made their appearance this was found to be anything but the case. Three small page boys, half the size of the tall Interval, crossed into the opening at an angle. The pudgy individuals were round like horizontally laid tires with white cloaks and tunics much like that of Lucic thereby forbidding the appearance of legs producing a strange image of the entitles as being nothing more than potato like masses of flesh. Their cheeks were around, filled to the brim with a flush blue that panned out throughout the rest of the flat face absent of distinctive noses settling for two nostril like holes. In the leading one's sausage like fingers was a thick black garment, a velvety smooth like texture that glistened in the light…it was royal in its fashion, long and luxurious, but as such forced upon the small subject a great deal of strength when it came to prevent the end pieces from touching the ground they walked along.

"Did anyone else feel that?" Interval spoke under a churning hush, turning to Iota and Mellany with the hopes of finding an answer to a troubling concern that had overtaken him. His feet spaced out from the square of his shoulders, sliding away as though attempting to regain some lost balance.

"What's up?" Iota responded with his own form of concern tipping on his lips.

"The ground," Interval shook his head, "It moved."

Todd graced his hands on the luxurious garments that the front page boy carried, taking it into the bulk of his forearms with a grin that brought great pleasure to the little fellow whom responded with a warm smile that escalated his little button nose as he waddled his way back towards his fellow workers in their line at the door.

"So why the illusion?" Interval started up again with his prodding.

"Superman, Orion and I," Todd replied quite gingerly, sparkling with delight as he attempted to find the way in which to fit into the garments that had been brought to him, "came to the agreement that Apokolips needed time to become a whole planet…Darkseid's rule really chewed up the place," finding the proper hole for his head, he scrunched up the fabric along the side, taking it as clumps in his clawing fingers so as to make the hole more spaciously visible for his head to pop throw without direction, "we wanted a realm in peace, one that would remain untouched. No one would dare cross into this realm if they knew Darkseid was still control so we left the myth up as it was and the people he had enslaved were given the freedom to start a new life in a manner they found best without the interruption."

"As a result of the conflicts, New Genesis sealed itself away from all forms of communication…" Mellany stated seamlessly stepping in at the conclusion of Todd's words, "they are the only other people in this realm but with the absence of the new gods, they appear to have adapted a less than technological advance lifestyle."

"No," Iota shook his head, staring down Mellany in his intriguing state of mind, "never heard of it."

"What do you think Todd can do for you though?" Interval questioned out.

"Emperor Todd is a hero to his children," Lucic firmly responded, "a god with no equal save to his fellow brethren Orion and Superman. He is a lord of this planet and saviour to its people. He has returned once more to be a father to his children, to protect them from those who would do harm."

"Works for me," Todd piqued up.

"You believe that he is a god?" Interval spun around to look to Lucic and Mellany.

"He is my god and my saviour," Mellany sternly replied, "and he may be yours too if you be so willing to allow him," but Interval quickly scoffed the notion, turning away with a shattering shake of his head.

Todd made his way to the stage, this time intent on taking up the two steps to the plateau. He went through with a strong sense of determination that was most encapsulated in his raised chin, tightly drawn fingers clasped at his stomach, and the stomping movements of his feet that were quite evident even with the swaying motions of his velvety robs blocking a visual of his legs. All others whom were present caught themselves watching the emperor boy as he walked the centre line of the room, all the way up the steps till he had disappeared behind the wall and was firmly upon the stage plateau. They briefly shook down their stunned stares, proceeding to seek about a course that would bring them closer to the emperor boy, though the two teen heroes were still having quite difficulty in finding their footing, awkwardly hitting the turning peak of the corner, Iota for one nearly losing his balance.

"Sorry," Iota scrapped up his hand after it had the unfortunate collision with Mellany's shoulder in attempt to steadying himself from an undesirable conflict with the floor. The mismanaged and misguided movements of the young lantern saw the tearing away of her hair from the side of her face revealing the strong blue pigmentation, but the poor boy swore he saw the spreading of a plain purple that rightfully frightened him as he backed off from her piercing narrow eyed glare.

The loud slipping and smashing of unseen heavy metal bars, locking mechanics of some sorts, brought forth the declining of the floor high golden plate, the door at the far front of the stage that lined the wall on the necessary curvature. Then Todd came to a stop just one stride away from stepping against the door, dropping his hands limply to his side which forced beyond the flesh the long draping sleeves that formed into a wavy pattern bulges just as was the case up around his neck where a hood like apparatus hung loosely behind his neck, bunching up tightly in its fashion. Under such normal circumstances, the bunching of the fabric saw the disruption of the glistening beauty that it was, but in this case, with the encroaching power of light breaking loose from the outside air and through the widening crack above the door plate, the shine was unhampered for the power of the sky simple rattled through the disruption like they did not exist. To all those whom would stand at his front and look upon him, he was truly the golden god of myth, the one whom with the others had saved them from a life of slavery in ignorance.

Mellany, standing centre of the two teen heroes, spread her arms out wide to either side of her person; it was time that they stopped and remain where they were, waiting not only for the door to complete its full descent into the depths but also for Todd to take that first mystical step outside to be greeted by his adoring children; he had to be the first exit. Todd however was much less eager to make his way outdoor so soon, deciding to take in what he could see from his position under the roof, to discover the changes that had occurred in his long absence.

Just as they had seen from the window so high above, the clouds were glazed over with a delicate orange, though now experienced without the shield of glass, the overhead skies appeared all the more bright, as though throughout every mountain range of clouds there was a miniscule personal source of energy, a pocket sun, that brought forth this blinding force. The full view of the sky-scraping pillars was made out from the palace front, the red monoliths dotted the courtyard did indeed follow a straight line on either side of the palace, but just the pattern came across to the front, they darted inward on a diagonal path into the distance. The two most closest being spaced a hefty distance away, followed by another identical set that was quite ahead of the first set and much closer together. Several of these horizontal lines of two sets continue on for some time, coming to an end what must have felt like a mile in the distance where two pillars formed a gate like way that presumably lined up with the opening gate Todd was currently standing under.

Panning down from the pillars however brought upon the sight that was most important to the young Emperor, the people whom he had come to understand as being his children in respect to his acquired position above him. Though quite fortunately just a shadow of its former self, the admiring trait that remained in the new era on the planet formerly called Apokolips was its ecumenopolis feature; a city that was the entirety of the planet. As that was, he could not have expected that the all of New Spirtus' citizens could have come to see his return, to start again the celebrations of their long awaited victory now with a vigour and development that they had achieved together on their own strength, but this most certainly seemed to be the case to him for the ground, which he remembers as being quite coarse and bubbling a fiery red, was completely covered by the presence of the people. A large assortment of different individuals whom primarily originated from foreign worlds that they would no longer be able to return to as a result of war and conquest while others whom could but instead opted to remain and forge the beginnings of a new civilization, and others yet whom had been born to this world and saw it as the only home for them in the universe. There were the yellow skinned reptilians known as the Aellons, the blue skinned Aloi with their rigged heads, the elf like Graxions, vaguely recognizable humans taken from earth and even some Khund, the warrior race that employed a strict code of conduct in battle; no doubt a fact that Darkseid used in his strategy when he undermined them, amongst the many others. A sea of varying colours and intelligences, advanced species that had weaved their cultures together to build an unbreakable bond that allowed them to conflict the so called gods of this realm and come out victorious, raising above their status of lowlies to become leaders of their own destinies.

In the far off distance were a series of differentiating structures, pyramid like buildings with multiple steps and surrounding shapes, banners, spires and spears breaking out from their central formations. They were interesting for their height and magnitude, stretching off into the entire distance that was the viewable planet from the palace front view; they had long since been gutted of their war factory purposes, the dens in which the people toiled and succumbed to disease and death for a machine of war that played its familiar tune throughout the galaxy and realms of space. At this moment also, the steps had been cluttered with the assorted bodies, all attempting to get onto the highest peak possible so they could steal a sight of their arriving hero. Even the circular trimmed pits which once shot fire from the inner core of the planet with a hellish strength, had frozen over with welded plates of metal and stone creating an elevated plateau to fit upon it a great number of people hobbling around the taller bodies to get their peak.

"Shall I send out the requests for your companions to be worshipped accordingly?" Lucic voice wavered in as he approached the stage, waltzing in the strange waddling style that his shapely body had forced upon him.

Mellany dropped her blocking arms as the two teen heroes looked back to the old man with some mixed feelings over the question presented to their leading colleague, and though Iota had much to say over the arrangements, it was Interval whom had the first words to say regarding the situation the team had just been tossed into, "I hardly think I'm qualified," he shook his head with the implied negativity, "to come across all sanctified…I," he stumbled, "I just don't cut it with the cherubim."

"Interval man," Todd backtracked himself, jumping with excitement towards his speedster friend with his arm ready to wrap around the tall boy's neck, "what are you talking about?" Todd rested the pivots of his arm on Interval shoulders and proceeded to drag him forward to the ledge of the palace opening, holding some resentment for the push portrayed with the gnashing of teeth and widening eyes. Todd waved his hands out to the people below, "there they are on their knees, being worshipped is a breeze," he dropped his arm and proceeded to step out of the opening towards the extension of the stage outdoors beyond the ceiling scape, leading down a wide smooth declining plane that would most normally be accosted as a slide, though not impossible steep that one could not carefully navigate himself down. A two foot high stone fence began at the sides of the opening palace mouth and continued onward along the half circle trim of the balcony like extension, cutting sharply into straight lines heading down the ramp to the planet floor. Todd slyly stepped into a little dance and the bounce of his brow, "Which rather suits us in the interim…"

"The interim? Interval cried out with the obvious unwillingness to play into Todd's chirpy attitude, "the interim?" he shook out his hands in a rage as he continued forward without the forceful arm gesture.

It was quite the awe inspiring sight for the teen emperor, but it did not take long for the pressure of the role to come colliding down on his soft underdeveloped conscience; he was not properly prepared for what he was to be greeted with, it was much less, way less, than what he had expected for a returning god. Though he had come to stand outside of the inner stage with an boldness that knew no bounds, to join the outside world of mortals where he could be seen by all around with his grateful smile, there were no cheers…the crowd simply stood there in complete silence. "Eep," Todd mouth fell open, eyes blaring into the distance though the iris danced from side to side.

"It's tough to be a god," Interval came up to his side, politely making his statement while crossing his arms, sharing his overt disgust for Todd willingness to believe in his effortless divinity, "tread where mortals never trod, be deified when really you're a sham."

"I'm supposed to be an object of devotion," Todd spoke through his short huffing breath, unable to make the solidification of his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes, "the subject of psalms."

"Such a touching notions," Interval sarcastically replied, now tapping shoulder to shoulder.

"Mellany," Todd crossed a look over his shoulder to catch onto his friend, "what's going on?" his voice began to quiver along with shaking movements of his legs, not that such fear could be seen behind the body encompassing robe he wore.

"Oh," Mellany's voice gushed out with a heavy expulsion of breath. Her closed eyes popped open wide as she rushed up ahead intent on providing Todd with information that may avail him of his quivering state, "we collectively determined that a part of Darkseid's power was drawn from his insistence that we cheer his name as loudly as we could," she came to a reverent stop three feet back of the boy emperor, closing her eyes with the kneeling of her head, clasping her open hands across one another at her waist line, "we are silent in your presence out of respect of your benevolence…."

"Awkward," Todd's tongue became loose as he pivoted on one foot, turning to face the front again and all the people once more, crouching his shoulders to the height of his head while thinking through his next acts carefully.

"You have come to save us from the threat of Kalibak," Mellany concluded her sentiments.

"Todd," Interval's piercing sting sent a tossing jolt up the emperor boy's body. The level headed speedster waddled his way closer, a turn of his chin to nearly reach upon Todd's shoulder, "now that you've been humbled," he came across with a thin whispery voice, hoping to avoid the ears of the faithfully devout standing behind him, "you need to start thinking before you decide to head down there and play with your kids. You're here to handle a threat…place some focus on that," he sighed, "they think you're on the same level as Superman."

"I am," Todd sternly stated, not once turning his view away from the people below him.

"If this son of Darkseid is anything like his father," Interval continued, ignorant of Todd assertion, "than you can't just expect that he'll disappear just because you are here and say so…you have to be prepared for the possibility that your divinity is really nothing more than just a word."

"Look, I've done a lot to ensure that this planet be free of tyranny," Todd further contended.

"Yes!" Interval bolstered away from the whisper, "but it's all they're used to living under, they're used to having a single figure that can handle all their problems…but this time," he wavered, "you may not be able to do that…let's get enough information on this guy and building up a strategy accordingly."

"I can handle it," Todd wrapped his hand around the fabric trim that circled his neck, brushing it up lightly as he raised his beautifully clean chin in arrogance, taking down the path with the understanding that his godhood was very much a reality that proper reasoning would not undo.

"What's up with you?" Interval turned to his side to see Iota slowly approaching, stepping awkwardly in what appeared to be quite the painful process as it occasionally forced him to cap his hands to his knees, steadying himself when the largest breaths ever produced from his lungs overtook him.

"It's another planet," Iota raised up on hand and from his slouching knee and waved it off to Interval like a loose salute, "it's just sinking in…" he dryly stammered.

"You're a lantern," Interval, partially confused, feeling himself forced to question the teen lantern's credentials; "I was under the assumption that this was very…normal."

"No, no," Iota admitted, "I'm not really allowed to do much on my own…well, nothing like this." Iota straightened his back, brushing his hands to his side, "alright, I'm good," he commented in a stronger voice from his previous staggering state of person, ready to follow their alleged leader down the incline plain as though they be his advisors more than friends or gods.

Soon the team was carting themselves down the declining angle that was the walk way down from the palace; Todd at the forefront centre, a few steps ahead of the other two whom had taken to either side of him in their own strides that were slowly mirroring up to Todd's. The look down at the angle they were walk pressured some stress on their feet and nerves, the several stories down could take close to ten minutes to complete at the speed they were force to take in order to stay safe from tumbling. Side by side, Mellany and Lucic stood in the shadows of the palace, reverently holding their hands together, eyes closed and heads bowed.

A loud whoa like sound suddenly shot up from the people, though it was hardly a cheer a returning god would hope for, especially since the jeer and the subsequently riled up movement appeared to be coming from a single region within the audience, that of the line ahead of them, between the high pillars that dotted the outside of the extensively constructed main road. Heads had bowed, arms had been raised in protection, and eyes had turned upward to look to the sky where a dark purple force of light had brushed a few feet above their head bringing forth a terrifying sound of whooshing air.

The speed at which this entity flew was quite unimaginable for the casual onlooker, even for the speedster Interval the approaching figure could only be slowed down to a near seven seconds, and even then the approximation of the figure's composition could not be made out. Regardless, by the time the Todd was able to turn his head, the entity had brushed past him in a blurred smoky purple state and smashed into his Lantern friend.

It was quite obvious from the loud smashing noise that the entity's innards were of a hardened substance that easily rivalled the Green Lantern shield that quite fortunately found its way around Iota's body in time to save him from harm. This hit was like no other, the colliding colour forces did more than pressure bodies against the hard flooring of the pathway, it soundly crushed the clay red, snapping the pristine flat feature into little crumbling pieces where his backside had hit while the side which he was closest two had cracked down at the least two metres towards the planet surface, forming a black scar that branched out in smaller cracks through the otherwise solid stone state.

The cut into the ramp was significantly deep, fulfilling a side widening black crusted appearance, scorched as so by the high speed collision of the energy wielding beings. Well adapted to the situation, Interval was first to the ledge, looking down the frighteningly deep hellish crevice with the hope that the emerald glow of the lantern ring would at some point break even with the blackness within and sooner or later over power it though something at first would have to be expulse from the hole first before any lantern fist could become visible.

"Is he OK?" Todd side stepped next to Interval and bent his knees to get a full understanding of what had cracked through and embedded itself into the palace exit ramp. The jagged sides of the stone, numerous long connected pillar like entities that surrounded the interior of the hole like rungs, began to start up in the gentle green glow though it was quite light in its scope for it appeared that the source was reaching out from the sides of a rather large blocking feature, as though something at the centre was attempting to cover all sides of which the Lantern's light could reach. It was a fabric like entity that bubbled and shifted in its uncoordinated directions, deterring the glow from teasing the eyes of the two observers but not affecting its strength in anyway, in fact it appeared that the force of green along the sides was getting brighter and more powerful with every passing second.

"Move," Interval coldly whispered as he along with Todd fell back as quick as they could, arching their back as far away from the hole and keeping their arms waving ahead of their bodies to keep themselves from losing balance, all watching as the bright purple smoky figure arose from the hole at a the blistering speed it had arrived from but this time the source of this fast pace was no doubt the gushing strength of the Lantern's will. A solid beam of the emerald energy arose from every point of the crevice, crushing into the blocking cloak with a blunt smash tossing it far beyond what an able body jump could reach.

A sheen of purple fabric flipped away from the interior it covered, fluttering into the wind where it seemed to extend out for dozens of feet which was further sharpened by the rise of the pure particles of smoke that arose upward of its sides flushing away from the noticeable humanoid shaped body that the flapping flag was attached to at the neck; the piece that had covered the hole from the Lantern's light was merely a marvellous cape worn by an even more impressive figure. The flamboyant expulsion of its cape gave fully view to the skeleton like body; a thin torso lacking in an muscular definition, long arm pieces that worked on a curvature norm that spread outward smoothly to only aim back towards its body at the wrists. And while the legs maintained the sickly thin bone structure, the thighs were considerable straighter while the small circular bulb knee joints separated from the shin pieces that meagrely curved outward to the centre below falling back in at the ankles where small feet pointed downwards in accordance with the vertical raise of its whole body. The neck was suspiciously absent or unseen on this humanoid figure, that region being taken up by a roundish head with a flat face, the only notable distinction being the soulless pure green oval eyes situated in the expected norm location and a purple chin piece; these such things, along with the face crunching cape, were the only dividable colours for the entity had really taken to the skeleton appearance with much of its body being stained in what looked like black and white straps that were well connected into a seamless pattern, a zebra like design that was quite intriguing to those whom looked up to him. Despite the weak looking frame, it wasn't hard to determine from the sizable crater he helped create that the entity was much stronger than it appeared. It hovered out a short distance away from Todd and Interval, stretching its plain hands to its side and spacing its feet out accordingly to impress an image of order over them; the Lantern's light failed to make an impact.

"Who are you?" Interval called out with his authoritative voice but before the figure could hope to respond, it came under attack from the bolting Iota, who having regain form following his exit from the hole, took to his challenge in the sky with a reckless behaviour comparable to Todd's usual outbursts though evidently filled with more passion and anger than the delight Todd was accustomed too. With fists raised to his sides and ahead, legs trailing in behind, Iota burst towards the figure, blindly taking to a strength that would no doubt collapse the chest of a normal person and then some. It was upon contact however that he found himself quite surprised with the distaste on the other end. With less than a foot away from making contact, the mischievous figure fluttered the cape back to his body in half a second, splintering his strangely sick and pail body into whiffles of smoke that Iota had found him fluttering in, breaking his attacking formation to wave at the billows of purple smoke that eclipsed his emerald sheen into darkness.

"Oh come on!" Iota screamed out in revile over the current predicament he had found himself in. He slowed to a stop in the air and waved around for only a short moment before finding that his ankles and wrists were suspiciously closer than they should have been and was mysteriously finding difficulty pulling them away from each other. The fluttering soon turned into a tight jiggle motion that saw the raising of legs from closed knees to full stretching simultaneously with the intense movements of his narrowed arms up and down from the knee tops; though silly in its orientation, the movements succeeded in displacing the smoke from his person but to a most unfortunate discovery. Around his wrists he found tightly bound purple hued bracelets that were most notable for the connecting chains, four inch sized pieces, that extended across one wrist to the other in a very strong melded appearance. Such a disastrous outcome was found to be a similar just above his ankles though he swore the arrangements down there to be much restricted in their movements than compared to his arms. With the difficulty melding of his legs, balance was a critical issue since he desired to show himself as prepared for a fight when it became apparent that figure was still up in the air having teleported a short distance away, just standing there in that menacing fashion that riled up Iota even more when he attempted to lock glares.

The zebra patterned person curved the full extent of its arms out to its sides before curving inward at the small bulb like elbow. It pivoted the side of its waist in Iota direction, pulling its arms up close to its chest though with its hands facing towards the teen Lantern with its fingers fluctuating, tingling up, down and around on their shallow joints with the intention of conjuring up something magically from the air.

The cruelty for combat that was once so strong in Iota's eyes began to soften, taking on a more oval shape that conveyed the curiosity he now held for his attacker's strange movements, not that he would be given the time to fully appreciate the entity's artful skill with his magical creations. Within a split second, the bright light of the outside world had disappeared to the lantern boy, and now, not only were his limbs cuffed tightly together, he now felt himself confined to a body sized container, a coffin built for his impending doom.

Watching from below, the people saw this immaculate sarcophagus, a large robust image with a well-defined humanoid shape with the understanding that it was necessary that the location for the feet be raised up significantly higher from the flatter face of the container and that the sides near high to the shoulder be angled outward for the elbows. Despite the case being quite pristine, it was quite absent of noteworthy details, taking on a smooth diamond like appearance that glistened in the bright purple hue that was quickly becoming a staple colour of this entity's material. It wasn't enough however that the lantern be locked up in a case meant for burial, the experience of death on the horizon must also be enforced and with that mindset in place, the entity set about the production of skewers, several thick tubular rods with long fine pointed ends that spontaneously appeared around the coffin, aimed from near all angles and encroaching upon it with the obvious implications they had; to pierce through and ravage and riddle the Lantern's body.

"Are we going to do something?" Todd twisted his head to look at Interval on his back side, coming across as quite baffled with a single raised brow.

"I don't know," Interval dryly commented, "can you fly?"

Though quite slow in their movements, the skewers were quite powerful in their destructive force, now scrapping upon the outer barrier of the coffin and puncturing through it like butter dwindling the time allotted for Iota to make his escape; a concern that not only his teammates had but also those of Todd's children whom could not take their gawking faces off the spectacle taking place before them, a show that required quite the successful showman to make successful, a person with a particular talent that Iota in his private life just happened to be training himself as. The thick lid suddenly propped open under the strength of Iota whom pressured his feet against the mid-section and pushed upward with as much strength as he could muster from the rather difficult muscle arrangement he had fallen under in such a confined area. The startling surprise for him were the skewers, three of which that had made contact with the opening lid at their strange angled, one of them importantly aimed vertical at his chest and as such snapped the roof in half when it poked through and bent upward along its shaft. Iota grunted and moaned as he nimbly laid his body off to the side absent of the lid hinges, taking that small moment to analyze where the skewers were headed and plan a flight plan accordingly. Within a minute of being locked in a container of death, Iota was free and standing nonchalantly in the air, surrounded in his emerald shield and sharing his confident smile.

"Too easy," Iota said with some arrogant flair to his voice. The surprise for the intimidating figure was the teen lantern twirling around in his finger the chain that connected the bracelets which were currently unravelled from his arms, "I've been studying that simple stuff since I was a kid." A sudden jeer from a group of audience members at his success arose but was quickly hushed down back to the reverent silence of respect, though in its short lived time it did provided for the inexperienced Lantern boy some confidence in an ability he developed without the ring, not that it didn't help in the meantime.

The skeleton like man was not however distressed over the escape act that Iota had pulled, deciding to press forward with another of his plots that would test the boy's escapology training. The swivelling of his hands, the rotations of his fingers and the narrowing formation of its emerald eyes all brought a new vigour of interest in Iota whom prepared himself into a fighting stance, arms raised with fists prepared to box his way out in a fight; however the impressive formation he believed himself to hold was quite short lived for the fingers of this rival suddenly stopped and Iota found his limbs being wrenched outward, uncontrollably away from his body twisting his organic flesh in quite a furry of pain. He gawked at the sight of his hands and feet, bound in heavy shackles that more than well contained the fullness of his appendages. Jiggling as hard he could, he quickly came to understand there to be a cross like formation of unbreakable boards on his back side, straight panels connecting his hands and feet while these subsequently held in place by a board that ran vertical his body; there was no hope for pulling any one of his hand across to aid the other. "Oh crud," he let out a sigh, curving his chin to a shoulder to look out at the twirling winds that had been forming behind him. It was a whishing of turbulent strength, quite like the Boom Tubes opening in shape and immensity but not anything like it is so far as visibility and tranquility were of concern.

"It is a howling winds of the eternal darkness," Lucic voice chimed in, stepping closely to Todd with his eyes, like all others, transfixed upon the terrifying sight overhead, "I'm afraid that if your friend is drawn in, we may not be able to retrieve him."

Todd raised an eyebrow as he looked back to the Vice Roy but in the process of doing so, he came to the attention of intrigued Mellany in her full blue, taking to a swift stride to reach his side, "it's a mother box, this monster has one on his back," Mellany's eyes widened as she pointed out towards the zebra painted man, pulling Todd's attention back upwards to the bulging utility pack that rode around the tightening cape scarf where a set of silver clips hung loosely down his backside, though of what exact orientation was difficult to see at such a distance, the purpose for such things was quite obvious; his power.

Todd hurriedly flipped away at the bottom of his cloak, working his hand around the bottom trim which increasingly rose in weight as he pulled upward to get underneath to his Nightwing gear, "yeah, I can take that out…" he mumbled as he blindly pecked away at the capsules that were positioned around his belt. In his hand he came to hold a flexing black crescent shaped object, a baterang with several sharp points along spreading wings from a central blue oval piece. With style, grace and speed, Todd lowered himself lightly, narrowed his vision down upon his target and whipped the device from his palm with a trajectory that sent the weapon on an a strong curvature outward in a smooth grasping pattern that passed around the being's cape and snapped upon the closest rectangular clip that decorated its back.

The oppressing entity let out its first sound, a bellowing moan that was almost mechanical and hollow, a reverberation of anguish that spiked as the electrical ties that emanated from the Mother Box on its back wrapped around its body in its violent blue tendrils, shocking and disrupting the natural control of its body. Its chest popped outward and it limbs went numb and flew away past his caved in back, but the pain and suffering felt of this one creature was of less interest for the collective group of heroes came to watch as the circular black hole, this disgusting twisting of emptiness came to an abrupt end giving way to glistening clouds that it covered.

Iota rung his hands out, free of the constraints that held him, those shackles and connective boards having disappeared into the smoke and then nothingness just as the coffin and skewers before. He hovered across the sky ready to meet the attacking entity with a bit more hands on approach, scolding silently to himself with the shine of ring growing immensely to form a ball of energy that blurred out the existence of his hand.

"That is enough of your illusions for now Phariah," a shattering voice bellowed from the sky convincing those who would do combat a few feet below to stop and wonder what lay even further beyond the clouds. The heads of Todd and Interval crooked back even further, squinting their eye to get a generous look at a blackened circular spot that was panning out in its reach and parting through the delicate clouds to become more solid in its scope as perceived by the onlookers.

"But he is a Lantern," Phariah, the stripped entity with the mastering lethal cape, shunned his head to the heavens, clenching his fingers around the edge of his cloak and pulling tightly to his sides with a bitter distaste for the order.

"His time will come," the voice from above became coarse yet stingily wet as though spat out with a conceded resentment, "The Guardians have little concern for these matters." The dark saucer hovering down from the sky was quite spacious in its diameter, being wide enough to hold up five full bodied persons on its top side and provide for them a few feet of personal space, granting of course that the layout was a squared with four near identical members and the apparent leader and source of the voice at the centre; Kalibak. The brutish beast with the wide shoulder girth had faced a downgrade from his biological self, appearing more machine than anything else. The large head was encased in a strange wrapping, a blue metal casing that engulfed the top and the sides of his head while neatly clinging into his cheeks and top of his forehead leaving a rather T-shaped open for his bushy slanted eyes, widening flat nose and thickly dry lips where the chief attraction was loose pieces of skin tearing off; his face was a flush of grey with a multitude of banding white and black scars and wrinkles curtailing into his helmet, he was old and decrepit but nonetheless, this was the most natural looking part of his body. The helmet seamlessly continued down into shoulder armour plates, a thick inch piece that rode straight along his top chest line and around his metre wide spread, rounding upward and narrowing up to his head as though this well connected device was the sole reason for why his head was kept up straight on otherwise strong shoulders. A darker rare blue filled in the thin full body suit that he wore underneath his head piece, though despite the brooding shoulder hang, his arms were shown to be quite thin by comparison, being cumbersomely long and tubular, the elbow joint appearing to be a part of his reach with no breakage, a thin fingered claw like reach that quite shockingly touched the top of hovering plate on which he was positioned on resulting in a very ape like appearance. Panning down from chest, they found that Kalibak was absent of his small legs that once kept his massive body upright, opting instead for rather tank like tread, wheels that churned a coarse carpet for movement; the blue tonal value of this extensive connection moulded well with the head piece, two parts that probably connected through a pack on his back side, it was so well entrenched inside his stomach that it was quite difficult to ascertain just where his biological substance ended and the mechanisms began.

Needless to say, the four guards that surrounded the crippled new god were in better condition despite their presence having long been decimated from their planet of origin. Parademons, creatures developed for the purpose of war, formerly serving Darkseid with an eagerness to die needlessly in battle. These ones that Kalibak had grown were not much different from the ones under his father's control; they were quite lean but still mastering an amount of muscle tissue that was understandably thick and visible through the green plastic like body suit. As far as their armour was concerned, each had fashionable bright yellow gauntlets and boots that chiselled out from their forearms and shins respectively to become quite triangular; four points narrowing down towards the ankle and wrist joints. The most captivating feature of their armour was the massive shoulder pads; maintaining the bright yellow, this piece wove giant rounded off waves at the ends of their shoulders, cutting a loop just around where the arm began, while spanning smoothly across their chests and equivalently on their back sides. As the case with Kalibak, the shoulder caps rode upward towards the sides of their face, covering the entirety of their head and foreheads leaving very little of their face visible, not that one desired to see the sickly grey appearance of their bug like complexions. Little circular black stained goggles on their eyes further made the bug aspect of them even more evident. Regardless of how easy one hero may have with one Parademon, such a collective with its hive like mind was most formidable in the packs that they formed, going into battles where they alone succeeded through sheer numbers more than strategy or technological advantage.

"Kalibak," Todd sharpened his tongue, stepping further down the declining platform to where the edge of the plate had made its collision, stopping flat, parallel to the planet floor. Todd came to a stop at the edge, looking down to his feet to ensure they did not touch the plate before taking a chance to glare and analyze this threatening monstrosity that had made a claim to his position as god of this realm through birthright.

"Todd, one of the three emperors of this planet," Kalibak stifled, holding his position at the centre keeping his distance from the emperor boy he was calling out, "you were not the one I was hoping would come to secede to me what is rightfully mine, but we can't always have what we want…"

"You're looking well," Todd took on a light heart, smiling with his sarcastic words, "what have you been doing?"

"I'm afraid that the death of my father has prevented me from being healed of my ailments," Kalibak grunted through clenched teeth, "my last conflict with my step-brother Orion has dealt me a great blow."

"And you're more than making up for it aren't you?"

"My body may be at a disadvantage, but my mind and will are now much sharper and stronger than ever," Kalibak shaped up towards glee, shortly revealing his decaying teeth with a fleeting smile, "over the course of the battle, I found myself fused to a Mother Box, its elixir of life useless to me now, but its power of intelligence and universal happenings is much at my command…" he paused momentarily, "I expect your surrender at this moment, under threat of war."

"Look," Todd waved his hands across one another, "I'm just about to have a celebration for my return, a blessing of a god," he gingerly placed a sincere open hand upon his chest, "can we plan your inevitable failure at a later date?"

"Failure?" Kalibak stifled up in anger, "you would dare challenge my army to combat? Apokolips is my home! My father has willed it to me; you are no god, you are nothing by a boy, unknowing of the power he wields. Your bones will soon be crushed under my magnificence, and if you do not surrender now then I will ensure that the demise of your children is extensively painful and longer than dreams would forebode."

"Ok, we don't need a war right now," Todd continued in a tone that came across as a taunt, "lets settle this one-on-one, god to hmm…" he shirked his shoulder, "whatever it is you've become."

"You dare challenge me to a battle? A duel?" Kalibak became riled up, steaming through his porous nose with a tinge of red overcoming the pale grey of his face.

"Hold up Todd," Interval rushed over to the emperor boy's side, clasping at his arm, "think this through for a moment…."

"I can handle this ease," Todd cheered as he turned to face his teammate, "look at this guy, he's half past defeat already." Todd sized Kalibak up, "just you and me, we fight for the leadership of this planet…If I win, you leave…" he swallowed awkwardly and tapped his had around his shoulders, "and if it goes the other way, I'll leave this place to you," he stammered.

"You have to midday to prepare yourself," Kalibak cried out as the plate shifted away from the palace ramp and rose back towards the sky from which it had hovered down from previously, "today, the triumph of the better god will dictate the ruler of this planet."

Todd kept his smile closed but nonetheless quite wide as he waved up his hand in a royal manner to the distancing Kalibak, son of Darkseid, former ruler of Apokolips. Interval swayed his head, slapping a hand to his brow in disbelief, "this is not going to turn out well is it?"


	24. Young Justice Beyond 7 Part 2

Young Justice Beyond #7  
Volume 1. Story 5  
The Gods Made in our Image (Part 2)

* * *

Interval felt his fingers roam and then tighten around his upper arms, opposing grasps that formed a cross over his chest. He felt strangely out of place, the body and its assorted organs becoming numb and barely functioning most likely as a result of that intellect of his that he was so keen of was working into a harden storm of facts that were quite off setting, facts that would logically conclude a death scene tossed in there somewhere with no one around to sing him to his sleep. The scarlet clad speedster with the shocking yellow Flash lightning bolt emblem emblazoned on his chest looked out from his yellow tinted goggle pieces to his colleague and the assorted persons that had conglomerated around his leading teammate Nightwing, their emperor, with internal disgust over the social draws that made this friend of his a divine entity on this planet, a feeling though that would never quite become ever apparent in his rather straight facial features.

Currently, Interval was in a large chamber of sorts, an decently sized room for around two hundred person capacity where the walls, floor and the high strung ceiling above were all shaved perfectly together into seamless ledges with a darkened red hue that appeared almost clay like in its smooth texture; it was a slab of stone with its innards cranked out with absolute precision, the work of the gods. At the centre of the room was a long strip of the stone like composition that moulded upwards from the floor upwards of the average man's waist line. Though not particularly wide, the table like rise was incredible long, reaching nearly throughout the entirety of the broad side of the room though coming quite short of the ending walls a good few metres; regardless of its unnecessary length and meagre height, it was the holographic images that rose from its top that were of appeal. The entirety of the table's top was composed of green lined squares with pure white insides that appeared almost glass like though the objects produced through the light energy generators below were anything but pure of colour. The pyramids, narrow spires, shapely palaces and the large robust war factories had been shrunken down to board game tokens no bigger than a fist; though retaining the shape of their real world counterparts, these tokens held to colours quite unlike the reality for the war factories were painted a sulphur like yellow, the palaces coloured with a royal purple and so on with all the others. With an understanding of the layout, the holographic forms displaying the many structures that decorated the single city planet, Interval discerned that the colours represented the importance of defence and use in a conflict; this room, with its obviously heavy protection, was among the many strategic war offices Darkseid had constructed across his domain, though unlike the purposes of war that he was often associated with, this particular room fulfilled the purpose of defence for his home: Apokolips. The bunker like feeling was reinforced by the appalling exit ways, heavy barricades were embedded quite well into the wall with sloping ledge leading into an indentation. With only two existing at the centre of either broad side and additionally only being a darker shade different from the walls they were built in, the difficulty in escaping this permanent prison was incredibly high; it would appear that Darkseid intended that in the event that this place was destroyed, his minions in command would be buried alive if not crushed by its destruction…it was a coffin but nonetheless a suitable place for strategic council.

What had drawn the attention of the room's occupants was the centre of the column where quite the separation for the norm was obstructing away from the straight sides of the table; a squared piece of the stone blended out from the long table slab about a foot on each side. While this particular outgrowth maintained the panel green lined squares and white tops, the all-important building icons and units in their colour coded attitude were absent, instead projecting a planetary view, a sphere of light energy hovering over top, a massive spectacle that shared all the intricate details of the planet; the wide circular geysers reaching the planets core that reigned out fire in Darkseid's time, the embedded catacombs with their branching out paths, bunkers and facilities of war that have yet to be turned over, and the housing developments with patches of vibrant green that quite contrasted the rather hollow red that flushed through the cellophane looking image.

"As can be seen," A gruff voice started up, "since we had believed our existence here would go undisturbed, all facilities dedicated to the accumulation of materials and production for war have been deconstructed or rerouted for other purposes…In the event of a conflict with an enemy as strong and numerous as Kalibak's…" it paused, taking in the overwhelming silence, "we would be most unprepared." The speaker was tall, standing nearly seven feet tall which accounted for the deep boom of his vocal operation. Furthermore, he was a Khund thereby conferring the seriousness behind the situation at hand for people of his ilk were without humour, preferring an established code of honour that compelled them commit to battle with intense valour and virtue; breaking his long established essence of unwavering fear for even a moment, especially in front of his emperor, was the hardest thing he had ever done. He was quite human in his look save for the obvious height advantage, a norm for his species, and his stained magenta coloured skin. Upon his head and shoulders was a bullet topped helmet piece that revealed only the rugged thickly dark features of his face in a small circle while the helmet piece fluctuated outward to his shoulders and crossing inward along his chest with a small dipping half circle rounded down his sternum. The rest of his impressive physique was compressed by a skin tight black suit that proceeded around his fingers and covered the tops of his toes; it was an under suit for Khund armour, a piece of him that had since be lost to time.

"Don't concern yourself old friend," Todd began with a tone that was rather mysterious, cheeky but still quite assertive with an attempt to be reassuring, "it'll never reach that, I shall have him defeated and peace will be restored for all time." Like the Khund, Todd had gravitated towards the centre piece save that he had been overwhelmed with the willingness to be at the front where he could place his hands upon the ledge of the table and kneel down slightly with the buckling of his knees, attempting to get a good shot of the globe three times to size of his body from a lower angle.

"I am certain it will be a most glorious battle," the Khund slapped a palm to his puffed up chest, standing to attention in an act of showing respect to the young boy in the best way possible according to his code of honour.

Apokolips, as it was called under Darkseid's rule, had undergone a multitude of changes since the time of his demise. With the triumph of the lowlies, mindless drones of conquered species and lower gods, a new reign of freedom began with the change of name, distancing from the doom of the original and invigorated with a new lease on life, now being called New Spiritus - or New Life. And though it was expected of the heroes that day, Superman, Orion and Todd, that the people here would grasp an understanding of self-rule, the end results were less than expected. Since they had come to understand the rule of a single deity whom protected and gave them purpose, the people were quite displaced on what role they could give one another and opted to name the three their emperors, gods in succession Darkseid. Today, under the threat of war with Darkseid's son Kalibak, saw the return of one of these emperors, though the young boy that was Todd was anything but the god that they believed he was…well at least according to some opinions.

"You can't be serious," Interval stepped forward from his shadowy presence against wall, crossing the floor to mix into the commotion around the projected planet sphere, "don't you think with an army that size he'll attack the planet anyway, win or lose?" Interval nudged the hulking Khund from his side, reaching the ledge of the table drawing the attention of Todd whom abruptly rose to his feet. Todd was quite a bit smaller than the slim speedster, but some would argue that such a height really made his cute features all the more appealing. His vibrant black hair straightened and curled from the top and out to the sides of his head, tipping outward above his clean brows which accentuated his tear shaped eyes with their sparkling blue iris; the model shapes of his cheeks bones, curved chin and pristine skin tonal value further deliberated the notion that he was indeed a god. His face of course was only visible because he had flipped down his Nightwing cowl, his alternate identity, a necessity since his children, as they were called, did not recognize him as the hero of the night. The Nightwing suit was a typical black full body suit with the unconventional additions of floppy grey boots and bulky circular gauntlets along the tops of his forearm, compartments for his more trademark weaponry. The most important feature of his costume, considered so by him at least, was the wide winged blue falcon across his chest, the wings angled down from his pits to the centre of his chest where a diamond shaped tail trailed down to his stomach and a long narrowing neck hit closer to his own neck breaking off into two slanted beak like features to his right side; he was the second in line of the bat-centric Nightwings though his exact parentage often dictated otherwise.

"Kalibak's a person of honour, he fought as a champion in his father Darkseid's army for years," The emperor boy peaked up with a smile, staring down his speedster teammate whom continued his look of revile, "he'll be so humiliated by his defeat that he'll have no desire to enter an obvious losing battle."

"Or you could just make him more mad than he already is," Interval snapped back in haste, "and he'll invade the planet out of spite," he waved out a hand to the planetary projection, lowering his back to lean his head in close to Todd's in a towering fashion, "which we have already found that we are unprepared for."

Aside from the three beings involved in the discussion turned mild argument, there were three others in the room, the most prominent of which being Interval and Todd's other teammate, Iota, best known under these circumstances as the Green Lantern. Despite the usual selection processes taken by the Lantern Corp, Iota felt himself to be quite the random choice in receiving a special Lantern Ring which much to his dismay had bound itself to his finger upon contact; learning of the Lantern's conduct throughout the universe, he was left to wonder why his ring had selected him for through much of his life he had attempted and was involved in illegal activities, though to his defence it was either robbery or starvation. He was young, but quite strong and abled body which he hoped would make up for his lack of creativity, a problem that had been the gripe of his mentor. His suit maintained a strong green typical of most lanterns though his armour like components, that being his fingers less gloves that rode up to his elbows and the angular flat headed boots that climbed up to his knees, was anything but the standard norm expecting of the lantern's uniform. Further breaking away was the logo piece that was enshrined within a green octagonal shape outline; two white triangle pieces with their points forming inward of each other. The rest of the suit was a moderate black save his shoulders which were a hard crusted, straight cut of green that formed along the line of his shoulder blade. His black hair was less vibrant than Todd's, being short and spiked outward over top of his forehead which of course had its lower part covered by the straight bar of green that was his mask, extending outward from the side of his eyes with jagged end piece that rose around his temples and curved downward and inward of his cheeks. He was considered to be Lantern; however, this was his first time on a planet that wasn't earth and he was taking it quite well, possibly as a result of a particular person in their company whom kept him strangely intrigued.

To Iota's side was a girl, the so called child of Todd whom had sought out the boy with a hope of bringing him to this planet to deal with the threat that Kalibak presented. She held a humanoid form, though the most abstracting feature from the normal human expectation was the pigmentation of her skin, or rather the varying colours that her skin shifted into. Todd had called her Mellany and currently she held to a pastel blue throughout her body along with her twine like hair which like her eyes and lips often took to an exemplifying darker tone. Her wear was distinctly military like in comparison to the lacking Khund, though of course much more styled to the facets of her body. Her torso was covered in a dark heavy tunic, a vest like wear that shaved an indented line up the centre to the V-shaped outcrop around her neck which in turn fluttered out to her shoulders with only meagre straps found to be holding up the vest, but the destined weight drop had little to fall down to on account of its superb tightness as well as the curvature of the tunic around the outside thighs of her legs and continuation in between thereby conferring a rather one piece like body suit. The plate like material possessed her hands and arms all the way up just past her elbows and followed in a likewise pattern from her feet up past her knees. The most notable distancing features from the heavy material were the silvery metal plates the curved around the top of her ankles, like bracelets just outside of her wrists, and bands around the top of her thighs, blending out from the tunic piece. She was made for action and sought out to serve as Todd's right hand girl and though she loved him dearly as her father, she was beginning to hold heavy reservations about his heroic friends.

"So, I was just wondering, you going to go watch the fight?" Iota started up with quite the shy persona having been adopted, conveyed of course oddly with hand placements at the back of his head for a casual dragging scratch. The question of course was aimed squarely at the girl, but rather than receive an answer in any terms he would respect, he got a lukewarm rub at his side as she made the move towards the centre globe to join at Todd's side.

"The place for battle has been selected by Kalibak; the Syriac dwelling," Mellany asserted herself forward with an authoritative tongue, drawing the cut of Todd's eyes to her own.

"Great…where's that?" Todd puzzled as his assistant clasped her palms to the holographic table top, gazing shifting up the planetary figure with all its integrated features.

Mellany rose one of her hand to the globe, slipping the tips of her fingers upon the hemisphere closest to her, flexing through the texture of the building to clasp upon the outer core of the spehre. With a simple swivel of her wrist, the projection shifted gears to a steady rotation bringing forth other side, "right there," she pulled back her fingers and pointed upon a flat patch of red where no coloured buildings or patched greenery were present.

"Hmm," Interval raised a hand to his chin, rubbing his index finger along the side of his cheek, "that's conveniently distant from any the geysers or infrastructure."

"The hideous Darkseid had declared certain lands unattached to the facilities of war," Mellany snubbed her chin to her shoulder, looking back to Interval, "served as ground for the collection of his forces and on occasion for battles of entertainment…" she looked back to the globe, "many a person perished in his gladiator games."

The other person, and the last, within the room was a quiet elderly like man, the wrinkled face of a wise person with bulging cheeks cushioned outward and sagging down to the button of his chin, though the round red hat that fit so well on the top of his head added colour, the point of draw for those looking to his face were the rather large sullen eyes, a pure blue straight across with a small black dot representing the moving iris. Further though, his body was quite staggering to follow, the shoulders, while much slimmer than the nearby Khund, appeared quite broad considering the narrowing down towards a waist no thicker than a grown man's hand. The draping white robes that he wore however did well for the absence of his physical self, branching down from the sides of his neck in thick and wide collars. While his arms were quite stubby, his fingers were nearly pencil like in their long reach. He was Todd's Vice Roy, Lucic. He was the leader of his flock while Todd was home on Earth dealing with what villainy was present there.

"And you're just going to meet him there? Under conditions that Kalibak no doubt set in his advantage?" Interval grunted with a look aimed to Todd.

"Yep," Todd chirped with the bounce of his eyes.

"And you trust him?" Interval nodded towards the towering Khund.

"Emperor Todd is one most capable of combat," the beastly being stunted down, keeping its chest as flexed as strong as he could, "he will lead us to victory just as he had done before."

"Alright," Interval swallowed with shaking head. He turned away from the table with its hovering globe, working his way beyond the back row of one that was Iota, "everyone get out," he grunted followed by a long withdraw of silence that steadily brought the crass movements of the room's occupants to look upon Interval's backside, his hunched shoulders and brooding head, "private team meeting…Get out now!" he whipped around to face them pulling his fingers in tight to fists that flared off to his sides.

The reaction however was not quite as instant as he had hoped, all persons, even Iota, had focussed their eyes upon Todd, their emperor, for some reinforcement upon the instigated orders from a relatively unknown off-worlder. But Todd was quite lenient in the apparent disrespect shown to him, though he narrowed his eyes quite heavily upon his teammate with the flexing of his hands at his waist to show some act of displeasure that resonated through his believers, "so let it be…" Todd nodded with a shallow voice, "I shall take his advice in private."

Following the heavy chime of a falling unseen pillar leading into a smash, one of the large indented doors, the one closest to them at Interval's back side, began to grind against the floor taking to a powerful yet slow slide inward of the wall slot awaiting for its incredible mass. Iota nodded his head, shaking up his hands as though doing push-ups with the air as he backed away allowing for the three non-team members to brush past him and dodge the straight standing Interval, headed for the dark exterior of the hallway; the reddened features of the clay being a prominent feature of the inner wall of the corridor just as it was within the room.

"What is it that troubles you my son?" Todd questioned once the solid door had reassumed its blocking position; those whom were once within now being successfully elsewhere.

"Will you shut up?" Interval snapped in with revile at the tip of his exclamation, "What are you trying to do here?" he tossed out his hands, flatly facing out towards Todd in a sign of humility, breaking down mentally over the answers that were quite unachievable through his general line of internal reasoning.

"I'm saving this world," Todd broke down from the divinity like persona he had established, gliding his eyes wide open to reveal the strength present in his beautiful blue eyes. "I can handle this," he fell into some heavy breaths, raising his hands to accentuate his feelings, "you saw what Kalibak was like…he's old and weak. I just need to pull some Nightwing moves on him and he'll be gone over night."

"He wouldn't have accepted this duel if he didn't believe himself to have a fighting chance."

"Doesn't' matter," Todd shrugged, "whatever suit, weapons or armour he has, I can take him…the better armed he is the bigger humiliation."

"Fine," Interval slammed his arms around his chest and winced, "then see to it that Mellany gives me access to the Boom Tube."

"You're leaving?" Todd fell into shock.

"Well I certainly don't want to be here when this forsaken planet goes up in flames," Interval jeered in quite the menacing manor.

"Come on man," Todd gingerly raised his hand, softly patting it down on Interval's shoulder, attempting to drawn the cold gaze of Interval into the warmth of his own but finding the line there to be quite difficult, "have a little faith."

Interval slapped down Todd's hand a unseen speed, nearly knocking Todd off balance as he stumbled forward to regain some composure, "just because you and all of these inhabitants think that you are a god," Todd rose up slowly, following up the scarlet hue of the speedster's boots and crossing into the blackness of his leggings, "doesn't make it so."

"Please stay," Todd pleaded as he straightened up, "I can handle this…."

"You really don't think Kalibak is going to level this planet?" Interval ascertained a nod from Todd in an affirmative gesture, though he was still not convinced and certainly not relieved, "if I stay, I want to do some investigations of my own, there something strange going on here, more so than you playing god with these people's lives…I don't exactly hold any faith in you at the moment."

"I'll make it so!" Todd cheered with a wide happy expression characterized with a nod.

"I bet," Interval relinquished into sarcasm.

The sound of steel collapsing against flat heavy stone sharpened itself through the conversation window drawing the focus of the speakers back to the storied door. The churning of gears and columns proceeded from the heavy smash bringing forth the opening to the outer hall once more, "Emperor Todd," the feeble appearance of Vice Roy Lucic swept through to the centre in his strange wobbling sensation that kept his garments so visibly still and close to his body, "it is time," his head tilted with the raising of his right hand, fingers drawn out filled with his plea.

"Alright," Todd chuckled as he made his way towards the door. With less than a second of self-hesitation, Iota shook himself down to some normalcy and followed up on Todd, taking to a stride that placed the two teen heroes side by side when making it across the opening, past the huddle Lucic whom humble swivelled to face his boy leader as he passed alongside, "I'm really looking forward to the celebrations…a return and a victory?" Todd looked upward with an open gaze that conveyed the growing excitement that shattered through his bones like wild fire, "it's almost a shame we had to postpone the return, we could have gotten two over produced celebrations of the masses," he concluded but within moments of feeling the confidence he suddenly shrivelled up with puzzlement, taking a hand to his chin in consideration of what was lost, "wonder if I can get them to cheer this time, perhaps chant my name…that'd be cool, never had someone chant my name before!"

"You do not wish to attend the battle?" Lucic waddled his way into the room; Todd and Iota have now left around the corner leaving only their casted shadows along the high red hallway, "do you not support your friend?" Interval continued to stand, unmoving slightly ahead of the holographic globe that hovered overhead at the centre of the room. Arms crossed, feet spaced out to his shoulders, narrowed eyes; he appeared to the man of wisdom to be quite angry if not dumbfounded.

"I have other things that require my attention," Interval stated in his dry monotone, taking to a quick turn to face the holographic imagining, back facing to the Lucic whom nimbly stepped closer to him, "not that he needs me there to cheer him on," he grunted lowly leading into a jumbled whisper.

"You appear to be quite troubled," Lucic came across with his warm concern, a characterization that all such people in his company had come to find despite the sightless looking eyes, "may I ask what this trouble is that it be preventing you from the celebration of your friend's victory?"

"How can you be so certain," Interval started up in a stronger shot of passion as he hurriedly switched to face down Lucic, "that Emperor Todd, as you call him, will come out as the victor of this fight?"

"Of Emperor Todd," Lucic maintained his calm, keeping himself a short, though safe, distance away from the speedster, "I can say that there is no equal save to the New God Orion and the Kryptonian Superman."

"Surely you must be wise enough to know that he is no god," Interval beckoned, slurring down into a moment of intense weakness with a plea.

"Under such normal circumstances, I would say of such a thing as blasphemy," the sage like calmness continued as espoused by Lucic, but this enduring trend in his voice was all the more structured to reach some emotional depth that Interval could not quite comprehend, swallowing a deep gulp as his eyes wavered around in wonderment of the being's wrinkles, "but you know him better than I." He paused, taking a sniff through his hollow nose with the tipping upward of his chin, "I must admit there is much different about him from the first time we had met, where I had first found him a god to my lowlie status."

"He is not a god," Interval snapped, "he's just a boy…he has no power of his own."

"Oh but he does," Lucic stepped up to a more reassuring tone, enamoured with a new breath that sent some dispelling chills down Interval's soul, "he has the power of goodness and kindness, the power to love and the desire to seek out peace in all that is darkness…what better way has he shown this than through his will in bringing this world from the horridness that was and bring it into a new era of prosperity and happiness that is unrivalled in any part of the galaxy? Why is it that the people of this world stand in holy reverence of his appearances?"

Interval found himself taking in large gusts of air, shaking his head with the occasional narrow nod, "and what stops him from becoming like the darkness before him?" Interval questioned believing him to have found some sacred flaw that would break the being to a silence.

"You speak in great circles, lonely one," Lucic responded, sharply dipping down to his all too consuming calmness, "we would have not chosen him as one of our leaders if we did not believe in the truth and justice of which his image served. He is a god whom may one day become this darkness, but we are most willing to take this gambit with him for he is what the people require; someone to protect and lead us through the better times."

"Lonely one?" Interval slowly worked up, accepting the slight edge in the man's words if not standing behind them all entirely, "you've called me that before."

"I have slight empathetic abilities," Lucic slyly commented with a slight smile looming over, "I have only drawn a conclusion from the impression I have gathered from your presence."

"And what conclusions have you drawn now?"

"That you need goodness, kindness, love and peace in your life," The sightless looking blue eyes of the Vice Roy narrowed in through the goggle pieces of Interval like they weren't even there, confronting an understanding often ignored by his young fragile mind, "you need Todd in your life more than we do."

Interval nodded slightly, arching his head away from the direction of Lucic, slowing down to face the floor, "I still have some reservations about Todd defeating Kalibak…I know that others have not felt it as I have, but this planet is suffering from increasingly powerful tremors, I've felt a dozen short bursts since I have arrived here," Interval suddenly looked up to Lucic, "I'd like to put forward my own investigation into this."

"We currently lack the proper facilities for such things as they are in opposition to the new way," Lucic firmly responded, "but we do have many relics of the technical age preceding this one when the gains of such developments were intended towards the purposes of war, perhaps these abandoned supplies could be of assistance to your studies."

* * *

In the distance Nightwing could hear the ranting cheers and discussions of the excited people, his so called children, awaiting the appearance of their hero. It was to be quite the spectacle, a tormentor of the past responsible for the deaths of thousands, a master torturer whom forced the enslaving of millions and a soldier devoid of any morals and ethics whom only sought the entrenchment of the darkness that was his father Darkseid versus their true blue boy, the always happy child with a purity unmatched by the common do-gooder. If history was to attest, this victory was to be as significant as the ones of the past; the triumph of the good over the darkness.

Despite the well-formed soles of the floppy boots to roll of his feet, the cold grey marble of the floor he walked upon produced quite the tapping noise that echoed throughout the corridor. The floor, much to his viewing pleasure, had lighter tones of grey contrasting against the darker pallet, swirling around like clouds that broke forth in smaller bundles with the occasional image formed as divulged by his acute imagination. The walls and ceiling though were more thoroughly solid in their grey stone composition, though the walls to their credit were at a slight slant inward forming a rather trapezoid configuration. The mouth of the corridor was anything but recognizable, just being simply the ending of the concrete composition leading into the realm, the arena where the fight was to take place.

The arena floor was absolutely flat, not a single dimple or extrusion along its surface giving credence to its god like creator. For an arena it was large, encompassing a portion of the ground that could barely be comprehended without standing within it for five minutes to truly take in its immensity. It was near quadruple the size of a football field including the rafters and confectionary if it be so included behind, as such though, it held to a more square orientation. The size, while important on the strategic level, was less than impressive for its perfection in comparison to glass dome like structure that just edged out around each line with a stunted circular angle, though it was quite fair to note that the single story high wall concurrent with the corridor prevented the full breaking of the otherwise perfect square. The high rise seemed tall enough to contain the levels of Todd's twelve story home palace, something he would like to try and cram in after all the matters at hand have been settled. The quartz that composed the doom was quite different from normal glass; at varying perspectives one could make out the glint of the well-defined grid patterns that was embedded within, glistening with the gaseous orange clouds that blotted the sky up above with their fine sun like excursion; it was quite evident that this glass was merely the near indestructible stone quarry of this planet made transparent through the abundant god technology of the former regime, a standardized formula in creation of the ecumenopolis that was Apokolips.

"You know, me an uh," Iota started up, "Emperor Todd," he stammered with a sarcastic grin, "go way back. He and I have been fighting side by side for as long as I can remember."

"That just fine," Mellany's stern reply came. No longer feeling the gaze up the lantern upon her, she swivelled her attention from the stage to catch a glimpse of the disgruntled boy in her company, "what's that in your ear?"

"Oh," Iota seemed to brighten up, tapping his fingers to a black circular bulb that sat in the crevice of his ear, "it's kind of a mobile phone…" his head arched away from her, looking for some more refined words in his explanation, "Interval gave it to me. Says he'll give me a call if he needs my help with stuff I guess?"

The Lantern ring wielder and the scrappy messenger of the gods were sitting just outside the domed arena, taking to bench line seats that extended all the way around the area built up in that solid red stone fixture that was all too common place of this planet, the fiery complex that it was. The spanning benches had quite the depth to them in addition to being quite significantly higher than Iota's head becoming virtually a wall that offered him some comfort from the shallow returns that his current companion was often felt to be conveying. Looking to one side he saw the mass of growing spectators in their shades of yellow, orange, blue and other specifications all too different and mixed to determine an absolute, further compounded by the appearance of those with scales and subsequent reptilian features, fur in clumps or short spurts, spikes and visible bone characteristics that provided some insight into their planet of origin, along with their variable and formidable eye formations, slanted, jagged and menacing filled with the reds of anger and anguish as well as the orange of avarice and baby blue of delight; for Iota, the only thing that had drawn all these intensely different beings was their happiness, each one was so sure of the outcome of today's sport. This was common ground for all them to stand upon, where there was only one hero in which all placed their loyalty upon. For Iota though, this was all too much. He had little experience in dealing with non-humans though he had quite the small fixation upon Emperor Todd's closest child, Mellany, whom he would focus upon from time to time when the faces, sneers and otherwise gentle gestures of the surrounding alien forces became too much for him to handle; she was quite pretty to him despite her strange colour shifting skin, but maybe that was what made her all the more enticing.

Quite thankfully, to his other side was a breaking point in the otherwise full rounded benching, a straight bar of stone grey that acted as the roofing top of the corridor leading in, the same one in which Nightwing was poised to make his exit from and enter into the arena. He clung up closely to the side, dipping his head forward as best as he could, working closely to the glass of the dome a few feet away, doing anything he could to get a glimpse inside but such efforts squandered themselves for the glass proved to be quite thick and not even the other side of the corridor could be made out from his arch perspective. With a disgruntled groan and tossing of his arms, he allowed himself to be relinquished back to his seat. To those around him this complaint arose; he has the front row, what was there to complain about?

Nightwing licked his lips, kicked his heels down to the floor one more time, shook up the bits of his body and boldly took a step from the mouth of the corridor, triumphantly, or so he believed, taking his place in this planet's history once more. "Come on?" he quietly spoke to himself, his hands suddenly waving out to the sides of his head and spread out beyond his shoulder breadth. A mere foot inward and the stands all around suddenly and disturbingly broke down in an intense silence, a sign of respect for their favoured Emperor but it was still something he was not quite ready for. He let out a heavy sigh, clenched his hands tightly around his stomach and lowered his head down quite low as he levelled a path to the centre of the playing field, stepping quite determinately against the hard surface; quite ungod-like.

"I don't understand," Iota cried out, displacing the silence, "how are we supposed-" a sudden slap from a heavily back hand hit the side of his face, throttling him towards the ceiling of the corridor. A snappy look over to the hitter revealed quite the beleaguered Mellany whose tight blue skin was dousing itself purple. Hush, her hand gestures propositioned. He turned his head back to the dome, thinking he might be able to catch his teammate's backside as he ventured across the arena but was quite surprised to see that the transparent dome shield had glistened up with a picture, a rectangular piece of loose colours adaptive to the glass technique in viewing but none the less conveying a picture, that of the face of Nightwing. Looking up and down the side he sat upon he saw these coloured splotches with the image of the boy wonder so that even those in the distant benched above would at the very least see some close up action regardless of being in the nose bleed section; this planet never ceased to leave his body numb.

"Where is he?" Nightwing called out. The plucky black covered boy came to a resounding stop at the dead centre of the arena, in so far as he could gage it to be so, and tossed up his hands in a bit of a confused rage after failing to understand the absence of his enemy, the feeble Kalibak, whom had called upon him to surrender his positioned as one of the enfranchised gods of New Spiritus. He swallowed and licked his lips once more, arching his head from shoulder to shoulder and lowering his body with the bending of his knees; he aspired to be sharp with his deductive abilities, but this gift so apart of his mentors that weren't on his mother's side felt rather absent of him at this moment for the entire reach of the arena space, this city block, felt quite missing of any other presences but himself. He so assured himself that if Kalibak attempted any kind of deception he would notice it flat out, having found nothing in his scans, he let his body relax, flexing upwards to the straight posture he felt more comfortable in.

A sphere of light, this formed baseball size ball of yellow energy, spontaneously appeared in the air less than ten strides ahead of Nightwing. Within moments he was most certain of its origin and what kind of purpose this ball would be serving, realizing outright that Kalibak would not be acting out in any form of deception for this battle; he was flat out going to meet him head on. The ball began to spiral out of control, twisting and turning with waves of particles fluctuating outward from its central core. Forming bars of light, the energy grew larger and larger in a strong circular pattern designated by clear ladder like rungs that were shaped from the bars into forming bands. The front circle rung was a series of rectangular boxes that lined up their ends against one another; it was the largest of the circles for every rung following it had boxes of an increasingly smaller orientation thereby creating a three dimensional image on an otherwise two dimensional plaque of the massive circle. Within three second of appearing, the small ball of energy had grown to the size of a truck. It was a gateway from one place to another...a Boom Tube.

In the distance of this gateway, Nightwing had spotted a black shaded splotch on one of the farther rungs where the light bands almost seemed to fuse together into a thicker band, but quite oddly, the splotch was gaining in size, stepping outside the blurry realms of the back to become more recognizable in shape and orientation along the energy wires that were visibly creating the ladder like steps to the arena floor. Nightwing stepped forward with an assertive right, clenched down hard on his teeth and pulled his fingers back against his palm; the image had made itself known, defined with the life and colour that had presented itself as his enemy: Kalibak had arrived.

The times of wars past had not be kind to Kalibak, the son of Darkseid was rather defeated and torn of what had made him most powerful. With the passing of his father, he was forced to enter a period of his life without the rejuvenated power that he provided to him as a sign of respect for their blood relation and as Nightwing had learned recently, the last battle that this sad person had with his step-brother Orion was anything but legendary, at least in consideration of his shattered state of being. The large head of Kalibak was encased in a metal bullet shaped container, the blunted top curving outer to his sides and all around, clinging meagrely around his forehead, dodging his eyes to come squarely at his cheeks and eventually wrapping around his chin thereby leaving only an almost T-shaped like opening for his tanned skinned face to be seen. His eyes were quite angular in their fixation, a heavy dark black brow accentuating the rusty jaundice like whites of his eyes which openly curled around the single white dot irises. His flat, spaced out nose was quite extraordinary curved out to one side with the dividend following down to his lips which were darker tanned and bulging in length all while being anything but clean as it became apparent that there were still shredded piece of the dry skin were still trying to break free of their restraints. The metallic blue of the helmet slid down into wide branching shoulder pads reaching the full metre wide breadth of his person, encapsulating the entirety of his massive shoulder strength was no doubt the most impressive feature of his remaining natural body, but this could have only been if one had not consider the strong connectedness with the helmet, the seamless welded pattern which was indicative of the shoulder connection being the sole benefactor to the head, keeping it in place as straight as it was. In the hours previous to this encounter, Nightwing and his colleagues had met a Kalibak whose arms were quite shallow of muscle, being long cylinder like tubes with elbows that blended in arbitrarily into the reach along with a lower chest region and stomach that was quite rugged with flab accentuated by the tight black suit that he wore underneath the head piece, but for this occasion he had dawned upon his body a new variety of appendages. The upper arm underneath the plate of his shoulder had bulged up with a blue metal bracket of its own, a circular badge of sorts that had recreated the lost muscle, and so was the case for his elbows which had taken on quite the life of their own with the black wire like lining present on the inner side of the joint. The forearms and the hands in extension were quite of interest for they had become gopher like in their formation, being extraordinarily rigid at the top section nearest the elbow before narrowing out quite strongly towards the wrist where it blended into a circular palm the size of a basketball. Darting out from the ledges were the ten finger like appendages, these curving black structures that broke out straight before taking quite the dive inward fashioning at their ends spikes that were sharpened to a point that glistened in the light.

The tank treads connected to his stomach from the previous encounter was noteworthy for its absence in this current conflict, replaced it would seem by two fully functional legs that moved and walked as though they were a part of him though one may contend them to be quite extensively larger than his previous more organic based legs. The decorated armour patterns of legs followed in line form his arms with bulges of fabricated muscles in that stylish blue having formed the portions of his things and calves though on account of the strength of his upper body, the knee join and the shins took a massive redefinition with sizes so massive they nearly eclipsed his large head; his shoe ends with their curved in styled stomping boots could even attest to such a comparison.

The chest and stomach had quite oddly maintained the skin tight drag of black, this sheen of fabric that forcible showed the lacking armour of his hide though there was a particular new addition that was quite alluring if not warrant for suspicion. Upon the centre of his chest was a sizable diamond shaped pennant enfranchised there, glowing a moderately strong yellow which lend credence to it being the source for the long streams of energy that fluctuated around throughout the limbs of his body. Running on either side of the diamond were long strips, an inch wide, that rode down him like suspenders but quite contrary to such, these bars did not end at the waist, instead they curved outward from the sides of his waist and ventured down the outsides of his legs blending into the patterns and bulges that were in existence there. Further bands were also prominent along the outsides of his arms where the bands ends at the tops had in fact fluctuated underneath his head piece and sharply turned towards the arms to continue a path all the way to the centre of his palm where a glowing orb existed surrounded by the sharp points of his claw like fingers. He was charged and in power, awaiting for a simple kill and his claim to the throne his father had left for him.

"Are you ready boy?" Kalibak's taunted with a grunt, taking a sizable step down to the main floor with a stomp that caused some minor fluctuation, shaking around his opponent. With him successfully outside the grasp of the tunnel, the substances that formed the boom tube collapsed inward; the bands of glowing energy wrapping in closer under the spirals of its language, tugging deeply inward towards the centre glowing orb of light where it finally dissipated into nothingness. "Does our agreement still stand," he tipped down his head.

"Most certainly," Nightwing waved out his hands and let loose his dashing smile.

Kalibak appeared quite reviled out this, swaying his massive structure to and fro with a wincing of his eyes, "are you not surprised or afraid of my eminence?"

"Not particularly," Nightwing shrugged his shoulders as he took to a softer tone, "I mean, you had me going a few hours back with that whole aged look, but I had to assume you had some sort of body armour laying around, you don't feel very god like with those tank treads of yours do you?…after all you were so eager to get in the ring with me and you're just so smart…" he strained with sarcasm, "you're still as finished as the moment when we first met. I'm a full on honoured god, I could take you on even when you were in your prime. Give up now and I'll let you walk away with some dignity."

"You are no god!" Kalibak shouted with a passionate sneer that hurtling sloppy sweat and saliva towards the immediate floor surrounding Nightwing. The massive new god leaned down, gleaning his eyes across the boy's head. He was over double the emperor's boy's height, "I will kill you where you stand! And then this planet will be mine!"

"Fine," Nightwing flipped up his fists in preparation to take a jab and begin the long boxing affair, "let's do this dreg!"

* * *

"But what is it master Interval?" a deeply kind and polite voice chimed in with a sincere question beset by earnest puzzlement.

"It's called a seismometer," the snappy monotone of the speedster satisfied the question posed to him.

"Yes, but what does it do?" a more slippery snake like voice brought forth a second question working from the first, somewhat leaning slightly into a lisp but nonetheless conveying coherent speech if not muddled by the slurring that regularly fell upon his conduct in speech.

"It measures ground motions, seismic waves that are produced from earthquakes and the like," Interval continued in his manor with the air of superiority that implied in regards to the knowledge he possessed, "it will help me gather information on the ground tremors that have been occurring lately. Essentially, I have a piece within that is unmoving, so when we are hit by an earthquake, the sensors around it move recording the power of the effects from which I can triangular the epicentre given that there are enough seismometers in different locations."

The first being to present a question to the speedster was a gently giant type, two full heads taller than the teen hero, with a massive shoulder length that look bolstered up appropriately with the well-defined bulges of muscle that decorated every inch of him. For the most part, this feature of him was quite exposed, a thickly plastic green fabric surrounded his stomach, stopping short of his lower chest, and continued down to a small pair of shorts that clasped firmly around his thighs a few inches short of his massive knees. The piece of clothing, no matter how tightly it conformed to his body, was supported by suspender straps that seamlessly connected around up his shoulders and down his back side. The only other article to his body were the heavy black boots that clasped roundly over his toes with accentuated gold for the soles and three sets of straps running from the top of his foot to the ankle and around his lower shin. His face could best be described as rugged, flecking out from the top of his head, down his sides and forming along his chin were strong unflinching black straight hairs that formed quite the unusual mane around homely facial features; wide spaced out nose, cloudy white angular shaped eyes with bushy eye brows hanging quite well over top, and barely visible brownish lips that nearly spread to both sides of the hair streaks that cowered over his cheeks. With a slight magenta pigmentation the argument for such a person being a Khund was likely though this man appeared to be more of a hard working hand rather than the warrior type that defined that species. "And this epicentre is where the earth quakes are coming from?"

"Indeed," Interval concluded.

The other person that had been attached to Interval's research group was a scaly creature with three digits claws to each extending limb save for the long tail that rounded quite thickly around at his back side before narrowing out to a point a good metre in behind, resting upon the floor. He had quite the reptilian image, entrenched of course through the out growing alligator jaw with the straight jagged teeth along with the wincing green eyes with the dividing black spike blistering through. He was a meagre muscled creature in comparison to his companion and had forgone the use of clothing which was unnecessary in consideration of his smooth yellow complexion. "My culture has always believed that the movements were caused by the overseers," the voice faded downward from a tone of certainty, drawing the appeal of his hands to his face and the tipping of his head downward to examine the floor upon which he stood, "I suppose Emperor Todd is the cause of these such things now, if what you say is truly occurring," the serpent's eyes matched into the capable speedster, "then perhaps we must ask him for his guidance."

"I already have," Interval responded, "he's placed me in charge of the investigation which is why I have called for some help." Interval spaced himself out for a moment, taking in his surrounding areas. Unlike the deeply rooted tunnels and catacombs, the skyline of pyramids, palaces, and stacked housing, of the inner city, this particular patch of land was restricted to the more industrial aspects of the planet though the tall structure that surround him a hefty distance away appeared rather run-downed, abandoned of the purposes they were built for though still glistening with that sharp red on account of the structure's foundations having been so perfectly moulded out from solid slabs of stone. It was a sizable plot of land, a large square surrounded by the cubed buildings that rose upwards of twelve stories and levelled upwards into spires, a courtyard of sorts that was most notable for what was at its centre; a giant perfectly circle geyser. To say the least, any side of the geyser going down past three metres was impossible to see, the crisp clean red turning over to darkness rather sharply with barely any differentiation, and though he could not see the bottom, he knew quite clearly where the end was; the core of this planet.

Interval stepped along outside the ledge, the foot high stone wall that was enfranchised around this massive indenture into the planet's scorched red surface. It occurred to him that there were once passage ways leading in here, probably some firm metal that ran from four directions forming a cross along it. Looking to the wide outline of where these pathways once were he understood there to be block like outcrops from the bottom floors of the connecting factories; the planets core had once been tapped for fuel to power the war machine above.

Interval held up a sizable bullet shaped casing in his hands, its size being upwards of his central torso and thus require two hands to wrap around its sides for support. It was an odd vessel, a shrunken down silo with a blunted curved roof melded into the tubular prop beneath which was quite bleak in its grey state but accentuated by black straight edged bands the touched vertically upon it up to the top piece, occasionally swerving at an angle but nonetheless reaching the top. "With the military supplies still available here I was only able to build forty of them," he stated bring to note that the bullet shape of this item was indeed so because of its previous purpose; perhaps a projectile that was originally built to carry any assortment of deadly explosives or diseases, "I want to get as many as I can closest to these major geysers," he lowered his back somewhat and smashed the bottom of the device into the ground chunking out some of the softer red minerals that sat upon the surface.

"Will this take long?" the brutish figure questioned with some more sincerity.

"I've already set up a few," Interval looked at these associates with an unsteady eye, "but even with my speed it's difficult to get to every place as soon as I want it to."

"We have a deadline?" the slippery voice chimed in.

"Before the end of Todd's fight with Kalibak," Interval sternly stated, "I fear that there might be going here than just a dual for royalty."

"You should not be too concerned master Interval," the giant beckoned, "Emperor Todd will assuredly defeat the like of Kalibak and his forces."

"You really do trust him," Interval snapped in with a monotone that was indecisive of belief.

"Even those whom were agitated and against the gods are now all for him," the reptilian man cried out, nearly breaking free of his lisp.

"Nonetheless," Interval turned away to look within the hole, the unimaginable distance that such a reach went. Following a nice quite moment, he knelt down to the ground to reach for a small rectangular device that had left placed there, "I want you guys to start setting these seismometers within the palace limits while I work my way up to the more outer regions," the glass top piece of the black rectangular item suddenly spiked up with colour, glistening a backdrop blue as the foreground was dominated by a red sphere like image, a captured picture of the planet they walked upon, "I've counted up to twelve tremors since I've first arrived…it shouldn't be too long till we get another and I want to be able to track it."

* * *

Iota rested his elbows upon the bones embedded in his thighs, leaning forward with perplexing thoughts, staring down into the greenness of his palm with the occasional toss back of his finger showing its obvious contrast. It was true that the fight was quite exhilarating to watch, within the first few seconds of opening, Kalibak took a diving swing with his right claw to Nightwing whom nimbly swivelled out of the way with a pivot leaving the tip of the razors to collide and flatten upon the playing surface churning up some debris in its wake. In the aftermath of the first strike, Nightwing had taken leaps and bounds around the mass of Kalibak, agitating him with his quickness and occasional burst of boot boosters that took him to heights unimaginable and back again. The young emperor's fists, however rare that they were, did next to null on damage and thus the fight rolled out as one sided; one hit from the mighty Kalibak and Nightwing would of surely been down for good, and Iota was just starting to notice his fellow teen hero begin to grow tired, falling back to a strategy of batarang shooting that hardly succeeded in puncturing his foe's armour. At this moment he was agitated himself. He very much wanted to get involved in the fight but felt more tempted to focus his jealousy for this spastic one whom had shown in this battle the skill and determination that had made him such a force to reckon with. Also, the surrounding crowds, feeling the numbers to be in the millions, was completely stunned into a frenzied silence, just listening to the sounds of battering feet, bouncing objects and the smashing of claws thrashed through the air or hammered against ground.

"Iota?" Interval's shrivelled voice befell the Lantern's ear canal, clawing out from the static of the ear bud he had been given by the speedster some time earlier.

"Glad you called," Iota sort of piqued up in his seat, but his words came across in a more whispered pattern as he shifted his legs to the side closest to the corridor, riding his shoulder up along the solid stone slab while clasping his palm to the ear bud and angling his neck in a manner that placed his head in coverage of his winged out elbow, cowering away from any observers.

"Why are you whispering?"

"This crowds is insanely quiet, only getting the occasional 'oohs' when Todd lands a punch," Iota spoke up in quick syllables, "I'm not willing to speak up any more than I am already for fear of cold shoulders and punches, if you can't hear-"

"How's he holding up?" Interval cut in decisively.

"Good…" Iota solemnly stated, "I think."

"I was on to something with the earthquakes," Interval entered his informative realm, teetering on the emotionless drivel that he was comfortable with, "there's something real strange occurring at the core geysers. I'm going to need your help to get to the bottom of this."

"I'm not flying to the centre-"

"I'm at the central geyser outside the palace, at the back in the industrial zone. Do you remember how to get there?" he paused for a moment as though an answer was expected to be given, but Iota was more than aware that any words that he would speak would completely blow by the speedster when he had entered this mode of conversing, "get Mellany to show you how to bring you here, tell her that it's important to the success of Todd's battle."

At that moment Iota looked back over his shoulder slightly, catching the intimidating glare that the foreign chameleon skinned girl had forged on him, "I'll try," he whimpered.

* * *

"What is going on?" Mellany's shrill voice broke through the huffing expansion of her lungs, the weary warrior hoping to rest but refusing to do so on account of the strange call for her presence, taking her away from the battle to determine this planet's future. She had taken a short sprint towards the geyser in question, leaving the floating Lantern well behind her, to greet the speedster whom looked less than impressed at the hole's edge, crossing his arms over his chest with a scowl as she approached.

"Try not to concern yourself too deeply," Interval spoke in a downward growling tone, "I just wanted to ensure that my Lantern colleague would be delivered to the right location."

"If this has anything to do with the success of Emperor Todd," Mellany passionately presented herself, "then I must be a part of it."

Interval had kept his primary focus upon the geyser most closest to the research bunker centre, the square red courtyard with the towering factory facilities all around that edged out a torn up four prong path from its bottom floor to the massive crater hole that scrawled all the way to the centre of this planet.

"I don't know," Iota caught up, floating downward from his meagre height in the air to land softly upon the ground with the flatness of his heels, allowing the soft emerald glow from his ring to dispel from its clasp around his body and dissipate into the dust and particles of energy that whiffed away into the air, gone forever, "maybe she can help," he looked to the eyes of Interval, taking a more a relaxed posture by comparison with his hands lightly shaving down to the bulbs of his waist.

"I can handle myself," she scowled in the Lantern's direction before pulling her own hands to her side and leaning forward towards the unchanging mood that Interval conveyed. Iota stepped back a bit, sharply raising the openness of his palms to block against the potential attack that she could be pulling in the next few seconds, though his eyes came to sharpen upon the twisting fluid of her skin, declining from the bright blue of her natural state to become a rather plain purple that he learnt to categorize as her warrior state; she was quite ready to assert herself, "What is going on?"

"When I first arrived here I felt a low frequency tremor, a fact I made note to Iota at the time," Interval sullen appearance turned towards delight in making his conclusions known. He rose up his right hand, angled to a straight angle at the elbow, and tossed out from it his fingers which he shook a little, adding some physicality to his discussion tastes, "in the last three hours there have been eighteen of these tremors, increasing in strength marginally but at the very least double the previous one. I've been setting up seismometers to measure the frequencies and I've reached some conclusions that are outside my natural understanding of planetary development."

"Alright," Iota shook his head followed by a scoff, "what have you got?"

"Usually the first waves are compression," he laid his hand out flat in front of his face and slowly pushed it down to the centre of his chest, his elbow fluctuating out to his side like a wing, "whereas the secondary waves tend to dribbled," he kept his hand level but shook it violent up and down, "however, the from what I understand, neither of these waves are happening, at least not in a natural sense…the planet surface is being drawn upward," he returned his hands to absolute stillness and slowly reverted from the compression example, heading upwards once more to his head, "something is pulling the surface to the sky, and it's getting stronger with every pull. I'm not sure what will happen when the crust finally snaps, but I'm certain that there will be little remnants surface world that we see now."

"And the sources of these 'tremors' are the geysers?" Mellany fell into a state of shock, irises distinctly growing wide over the whites as she stepped over to the small foot high stone rail that layered the outline of the massive hole to take a peek inside.

"How is it doing this?" Iota chimed in.

"I'm uncertain," Interval retracted his hand to cup his chin, angling his eyes to the floor, "I've been throwing a few hypothesises…" he looked to Iota, "right now I'm think that the Core is acting like a magnet like there's some large, massively large for a planet scale, molten metal pieces embedded in the surface that are causing a repelling connection and pulling the surface away…."

"I don't know," Iota started up with a squint to the hole, pulling his hand to the back side of his neck with bent up lips, "looks kind of deep…couldn't there just be a bunch of small magnets all around the planet or something?" His eyes balked up with evident uncertainty but nonetheless a willingness of his hypothesis to be true regardless of what ramifications such a thing would have upon the surface.

The speedster appeared ready to say something but sharply drew into silence, hands wavering limp to his sides as he arched his neck back to give his eyes the viewing splendour of the golden clouds, "but something as large and molten as these things would need to be would make them near impossible to hide considering the necessary proximity…" he trailed off, the monotone association of his voice suddenly tapping into intrigue. "Mellany?" Interval snapped, head rapidly curving the girl at the outside ledge. One of the girl's brows arched upwards, taking a daring look at the boy who called her out, "how long have those clouds been like this?"

"Um…three days," Mellany swallowed.

"And is that normal?" Interval's eyes winced up as his voice became a whimper, a saddened state that Iota had never seen him as before.

"I don't know," Mellany looked away with the shake of her head, "there clouds they come and go with the patterns of the weather, the gods are in charge of the way they move."

"No, but," Interval blinked with the clearing of his throat; "everywhere I went, these exact clouds were blocking the sky?" he pointed upwards to the sky with a new rage, "how often does a planet become full engrossed in a single weather system?" But Mellany looked back at him blankly, just barely understanding the rhetorical questions that the scarlet boy was sending her way, "We need to get up above that coverage," Interval became calm yet still assertive in his directive intent with Iota, "get me up there."

"Yeah," Iota grunted.

"I'm coming too!" Mellany, regaining her strong muscular form, stepped between the two teen heroes, taking within that moment an opportunity to narrow her intrusive warrior's glare upon them leaving quite the impression.

Iota squinted, pulling up his ring fist to bring forth its emerald glow which sparkled and shined with its ethereal particles flowing wholesomely around his body. The wispy air particles suddenly blistered out from the ring and traveled in a strange hurricane fashion in a narrow band aimed towards the scarlet speedster. The stretch of energy slapped up against Interval's chest, wavering outward into the strict small beads of energy but still managing to reach back into him with its falling prongs, gracing his body and rubbing around to all his facets like a fluid, engulfing the entirety of his form thereby deepening the coloured hues of his costume. "Do you need a lift?" Iota looked to Mellany with a sympathetic tongue.

Mellany sharply looked to the sky, "I'll be fine." She slung her left hand over top of her right shoulder, whipping away the strands of hair that sat along there, forcing her hand around to grab hold of an object strapped onto her back. Coming back down straight, she had within her hands a largish gold item, a strictly circular ball at the centre about three times the size of her fist which had coming out from its sides wings, half foot long flat bars that broke off into open spaced squares, handles, that her fingers flowed through and clasped upon the outer bar. The twirling sounds of metal hardened cords untwisting from their coils ensued followed almost immediately by the opening of four centimetre wide holes on the orb, a set opposing one another at the top of the orb with the second set appearing at the bottom on either side; within seconds, the cords made their appearance from the openings, thick gold metallic cords with a thin yet crisp blackened line that rode on like a drill up and along to the flat ends of the cord. The top bits ran up vertical of her chest wrapping over top of her shoulder and closing down to her lower back where it began to coil up from the outside inward; after several loops, small silver fibres broke free of the line, connecting the wrapped cords together into a circle that quite solidly stuck to her back. The second set connected together with the silver fibres almost instantly at the centre of her body, descending down a hefty distance before breaking off once more just below her knees and angling outward a short distance where they arched around the outside of her feet. One at a time, she rose her feet to accept the clasping of the cords which crossed over top of her foot and down to form under her sole a coiled pattern connected by that was quickly hardened with the extending fibres. The handles snapped off from the wings, pulled away from the central orb with their own cord extensions to provide some moving comfort. "Let's get going," she stated as the intertwining fibres under her feet and at her lower back began to glow an intangible blue, heating up to support her body for flight. The three of them were soon off, taking to the sky in their modes of transportation; a vertical path to the heavens lead by the reaching fist of Iota with Interval landing in tow.

"How are you able to survive up here?" Iota placed his question to Mellany once they had reached a stature within the fluctuating clouds, a height that was quite beyond what was believed breathable for someone without a Lantern's ring. The girl had managed to jump ahead and up to his height, quite a hefty distance away from the trailing speedster.

"My harness produces an energy field, keeps me protected from a variety of energy based weapons and produces oxygen on a recycling system," Mellany responded. She scanned the Lantern boy as he turned his attention up to the vast emptiness of space with its numerous uncountable bright shining stars, the trail of green behind him becoming stronger and stronger as the foundational orange clouds whipped out from his wake, but what was of interest to her was the Lantern's darting fixations on that distant patterns of stars, a look of thrill on his face that she had seen in no other, "what are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Iota chuckled as he looked back to her, "Just, I've never seen the stars from a different planet before…it's unreal."

"Iota," Interval called out, "get me closer!" What they found hovering around the planet's atmosphere, just above the clouds that held its secret, caused quite the stir in Interval's stomach, filling his mind with intrigue and a rabid anxiousness that would not be sufficed till he had touched upon its form and examined it closely.

"What is that?" Iota cried, pulling to an abrupt stop, turning on a dime to look back to the clouds where a particular item hung overhead.

"I don't know," Interval snapped, "come on, get me closer." Iota fully obliged, twisting his wrist and dragging his ring hand along and out from his body to give his teammate the much needed boost towards this peculiar item in space, stopping only when the speedster had finally stepped upon on one of the outer corner piece where he felt the solidarity under his feet where he let out a sigh of relief, "I hate flying," he muttered under his breath.

The configuration they had come across was composed of four objects that appeared like brackets, thick pieces with the width and height of a hand made with a particularly dark metal that heavily blurred into the fabric of space. The pieces stretched out one foot in one direction, than curved a full ninety degrees to run a foot in that direction; as such, they became arranged in such a way that a square was formed, spaced out from one another a good two metres in distance though they managed to come across as quite evenly laid despite not being attached by any visible connections. What was traveling from the inner curves of these brackets was a priority interest to the speedster, a thin sickly chain of white energy, fluctuating trails of circular open holed disks that clasped tightly to one another at their farthest edges with a multitude of shedding blue wisps that curled and intertwined with the disks. The chain held up straight across from one another; however the collision of such forces was blocked by a peculiar object, something quite unseen by anyone one of the heroes for while the brackets and the electrical chains were produced from an intelligent hand, the central object at its centre, a solid sphere, was quite arguably a natural in its composition.

The sphere was the size of several men, near double the height of Interval and appeared to be composed of a deceasing clay, stripped of its strong red to become a strong rustic orange, while mixing in heavily with an unknown metal that held a rather dim, yet fluctuating, grey; it was a conglomerate ball of various materials but despite the rather strange mixtures of cold and warm colours, it glistened with a golden shield of energy that broke out from its rigid mould. Placing the facts in his working mind, Interval was quick to discern the source of all the strange activities that have been taking place upon the planet's surface.

"It's some sort of molten…ball," Interval stammered with a strange shake of his head. He attempted to reach his hand in close, gliding through the gold ambience but quickly learned that the green shield that kept him alive prevented him from feeling any temperature it may have been giving off, "It's probably quite hot and these electrical beams are not only keeping it in place but also making it even hotter…" he crouched lowly on his corner bracket, clutching the fingers of his hand to the side of his face, "it's what's causing the magnetic pull."

"But why?" Mellany lowered herself down to the strange ball of fiery metal, pulling in close to Interval, "what would someone have to achieve from tearing the planet apart?"

"I don't know," Interval snapped back, "but I reckon there's more than just one," his eye glanced upward, catching on to the shine of other objects scattered around the curvature of the planet's atmosphere thereby affirming his assumption which he quietly took with the kneeling of his head.

"Guys?" Iota called out.

"There's probably hundreds," Interval suddenly shock back up, assuming his standing posture, "with so many, it's a wonder why they're holding back…unless of course they're waiting for Kalibak to finish off Todd, then they wouldn't have to use them."

"Todd will come out victorious," Mellany hovered in with a menacing chime that shared her flaring anger for the assumptions being made.

"Guys?" Iota shouted to gather there attention, throwing his hand out to his back side, "look!"

Taking heed to the Lantern's concern, Interval and Mellany watch the glow of the molten ball of metal become more vivid in its illumination while the years on carrying light that was the stars was eclipsed in darkness. A simple look over their shoulder's revealed the bottom of a impeccably large ship, a blackened tar like bottom that curved at the apparent front facing them while trailing off endlessly into the darkness of space, near perfectly blurred in. The tip front of the ship was rather curved like a kitchen plate though narrowing to straight distant lines on the turns. The plate front was flat along its edge so as to connect with an obvious top piece, but then bulging out significantly towards the peak centre line that ran vertically of the ship's broad side; in this respect, the shape and soaring movements gave it quite the distinctive zeppelin like appearance though it was quite obvious that this was anything like the air filled container of the earthly variety. It was quite the model ship for leading an invasion and was quite invisible to the unaided eye from just about any distance.

"We've got company," Iota's solemn voice concluded.

* * *

Nightwing slid outward from the front face of his heavy tormentor, gracing the ground with the fingers of his right hand while the bottoms of his boots dragged along the pebbles that Kalibak's claw had dug up; an attack that nearly cost him his life. The boy was quite weary but nonetheless unwilling to give up. Taking back to his full standing position with ease, he surveyed the floor, following his tread marks all the way up to Kalibak whom also decided to take his time in making snappy comments his small combatant, "you do not even grace me in full combat," he growled, "not only are you less a god but you are also less a man for not meeting me straight on."

"I'm getting there," Nightwing responded through the huffs that had painfully been withdrawn from his lungs. The quick paced acts of his feet and the gliding of his hands had finally met an impasse with his will, the strength of his muscles succumbing to the splotches of sweat that soaked and tore at his skin, building up in an excess under his suit.

"Succumb to me and I may just let you leave here with your life," Kalibak continued in his moaning state, bulging up his shoulders to bring his massive gopher claws to smash on their sides against the ground ahead while he simultaneously primed up his legs in a posture ready to run.

"I don't know," Nightwing conferred with a hush, "I think I've still got a few good runs left in me."

"This is your last chance," Kalibak growled.

The fingers of his front right hand began to fluctuate in and out from the comfort of his thigh while his covered left hand in behind formed a comforted fist leading into the withdrawing of a baton sized silver pipe from the large gauntlet containers that wrapped around his forearm; dropping down a significant distance beyond the length of his longest finger. Kalibak's eyes bounced in surprise as the pipe bolted from its container to the arena surface without warning, crushing through the top sheen of the quarry to sink into the rock a good two inches; most certainly firm enough to stand on its own.

Nightwing's right hand likewise withdrew its baton; however, his hand was poised upward aimed down at the rather confused Kalibak. But just as the piece was about to be thrust free of its holster, the arm had slight change in its direction, taking a flight path that angled outward gracing the air at Kalibak's side before smashing into the ground at an awkward angle, its length being diagonally protruding from the floor but nonetheless heavily entrenched therein. The black wire attached to the first propelled baton was straight and firm, but the cord that followed in behind the second baton was rather limp and unintimidating, falling to the floor and producing quite the squiggled pattern in its reach.

Kalibak suddenly broke out into a hardy laugh, taking to mind that the boy had missed his target on account of his rather weakened state, being most unable to keep his arms steady for the battle. Nightwing lowered his back, scowling in Kalibak's direction, seemingly angry by the ensuing laughter aimed at his blunder in combat. But when it was time, when the moment for such scoffing had long lasted its stay, Kalibak returned to his steady stance, following through on a run towards the boy, a full venture with his massive feet tearing up the floor and vibrating the small particles of debris upward to his knees, a fierce look of desire and destruction both in his eyes and on the edges of his stencil sharpened teeth; what he was not prepared for ever was the plan that Nightwing had set in motion.

When the new god was a within four strides of crossing over top of the limp black cord, Nightwing bolstered off in his boot boosters, aimed outward to Kalibak's side opposing the fired pipe all while allowing the mechanisms within his wrist guard to begin to reel in the cord of that same pipe thereby making it quite solid for the briefest of moments, but that moment was all that he needed for the cord rose up sharply and tangled itself within the new god's robotic legs sending him upward the full distance; tripped while running at a near unstoppable speed, sending the giant beast soaring into the air. Within the meagre seconds following the initial trip, Nightwing allowed his boosters to drop propulsion and hurriedly worked upon the reeling in of the cord connected to the first pipe he had shot which up until this point had been limp since he bolted off. The speed at which his body travelled easily beat out the force of gravity pulling upon the new god, getting him back in time to his starting location to get a firm grasp upon the floor with both legs. Angled downward at the knees, the boy clumped his fingers down into the tightest fist he could muster and unleashed the most impressive uppercut he had ever pulled off right up into Kalibak's jaw producing quite the crunching feeling of the new god's bones falling to waste; it was his final move, the finishing which would hopefully end this battle.

* * *

The sound of metal being shredded down and displaced from its straight solid arrangement evicted the thoughts of a twisting spire, a drill bit, that was rapidly decaying the outer hull of the ship, the thick plates that they were, reaching to the inner world of the ship that it was built to protect. Within the front ship section stood a half dozen parademons, the soldiers formerly under the command of Darkseid. They were quite lean humanoid figures though mustered up quite the muscular bulge that was exemplified quite finely through the skin tight like plastic material that wrapped around the entirety of their persons. With four pronged angled down yellow gauntlets and boots, as well as matching shoulder caps that headed into circular waves over top the ends of their shoulders and down across his upper chest while fashionably blending up over top of their heads like Kalibak's bullet helmet, the creatures were quite prepared for combat with the invading heroes. Their faces were a tanned brown and appeared quite crunchy with circular eyes thatched across with black lines; they were bugs, just as their creator had desired, lacking in any coherent individual control and collectively intense in their loyalty even if it brings them needlessly to their death.

The interior of the ship, the front end at the very least, was rather clean in comparison to its tar like outside. The floor was a modelled metallic blue that was levelled straight, no doubt being the flat section plate that divided the two bulging hull plates of the zeppelin shaped ship. As the exterior suggested, the width of this interior pane was near towards the size of an indoor arena and near two thirds of that in height. Additionally, the floor could have continued onward for an un imaginable length in distance of the ship had it not been for a wall that rose up seamlessly from the floor just over half of it height, curving inward as was necessary from the narrowing walls thereby making the rest of the ship less than viewable not that they saw much there but an endless pure white cavern as they fell down. The lantern's drill piece snapped through the top roof with relative ease producing few if any spark and spattering thin shreds of metal to the outer realms of the ship which, although few, floated to the floor like feathers upon feeling the pull of the artificial gravity. In jumped the three invaders, Iota taking the charge in as the large body size triangular top piece dissipated into the air opening the hole to his followers; Mellany in her gold cord laced harness and the speedster Interval coated in the Lantern's green sheen, floating down under his teammate's command.

Once upon the ground, the heroes looked out to the inner dome of the ship, marvelled by the translucent appearance of its sidings which outwardly deviated from what they had perceived from its exterior. The stars and the vibrant red planet were quite visible though through a tinted filter, it was quite the glass like spectacle but the time for such ogling was short lived for the six parademons on guard were quick to pounce upon them. "I really thought that would work," Iota looked to the ceiling, his man sized hole giving off an undeterred view of space, but no vacuum of its pressure to be accounted for.

"Prepare yourself for battle Lantern," Mellany shouted out as the gold cords around her body suddenly spun out from the expenditures of her feet and backside, crawling back at a split second rate back to the sphere along with the articulate wings narrowing down from their half foot lengths to mere millimetres. With a move to place the harness holder on her back side clamp, she unleashed a furious jump at two of her attackers, leaping upwards the required height to smashing the ends of her elbows into the throats of the demons. Iota likewise broke off; finding great intrigue in her fighting skill, he armoured himself with the sharpness of the ring and dove head on into two of his own foes.

A split second passed and the two parademons left to Interval's end collapsed to the floor with an unbearable condition; crushed chests, broken limbs and swollen heads. Indeed the only thing that saved them from the deathly pain was their lack of understanding for the concept, a fact that warranted much learning since they hobbled their broken bodies along the floor to follow the slowed speedster whom stepped away towards something that was quite more belonging to his interests. At the centre of this front section was a tubular pillar, a tall transparent glass like constructed tube that presumably stretched through the full height of the ship. Three full bodies could be crammed within its width, but it was nonetheless absent of such macabre instead substituting for an electrical gauged yellow energy that fluctuated through its varying shades, occasionally tapping upon the thick coating that kept it encaged. It was no doubt a power source of some type and Interval was immediately intended on finding just what exactly it connected to if anything relevant to the current mission.

"What is it?" Iota questioned as he pulled up to the speedster side, Mellany in the background stomping upon the head of one of the crawling parademons while the other more lifeless bodies of the drones laid scattered along the metallic sheen of the floor with occasional bursts of the inner green blood gut from aggravated throats.

Interval had clasped his hands down on a metre long panel piece that was hung horizontally on the pillar at a diagonal edge upward, sitting close to his chest height. The smooth panel conveyed at first a black image, but with the imprint of his fingers, it suddenly brightened up producing an invariable blue mixed with bright shots of white hollow circles that confined a strange character language that neither of the two understood; shapes that were rather geometric in their orientation but with the accentuated breakage of other smaller shapes as though someone had taken a knife to a rectangle and severed a triangle from its abdomen. However, to the far left side was a strange image to Interval but nonetheless one that acutely resonated within Iota and the approaching Mellany. A large humanoid figure composed in a darkened blue graced this side, lacking in any noteworthy detail save for the these yellow lines that fluctuated up its body like suspenders and trailed along its legs and shoulders all the way up to the tips of its longest finger and toe. "That looks an awfully like Kalibak's armour arrangement," Mellany chimed in, reaching her hand down to grab the edge of the panel.

Interval raised a brown to Iota, "yeah, that's it," the Lantern teen steadfastly conceded. Iota's head darted away for a moment from the panel, looking outward to the sides of the ship. Though his eyes caught upon the vastness of space, he was more tuned to the trim that ran along the ships edges at their heads height, a crisp ember red that fluctuated from blackness and out at regular intervals, "OK, what's that?"

"It's an alarm," Mellany sliced in with a monotone widely acceptable only to Interval, "do not waste your time with concern, it's only notifying that fact that we are now on this ship."

"You can read this language?" Interval looked to her.

"Quite so, but I am not very skilled in technology," Mellany offered.

"Does it say anything about shutting it down?" Interval puzzled.

Mellany took a quick glance at the panel, slapping her hair away from her inner side as she turned back to look to Interval, "it's asking for some passcodes…I don't know."

"It's almost pathetic that person whom would fashion himself a god would seek the assistance of mechanical enhancement," a strange steely voice echoed throughout the space of the room, drawing the three young minds to where they had believed it to have come from; behind them, above the wall. It was a strange voice, but not something that was unrecognizable and when the voice giver made itself known at the ledge, there was no doubt whom it was.

"It's that Pharion thing…" Iota snapped up his finger to point at the tall standing being on the ledge of the wall.

The entity known as Pharion was quite unusual in its shape, possessing very little tissue that could be called muscle opting instead for a composition of a hard material which it applied to its work ethic as though it were unbreakable. It was skeleton like, with arms being like narrowing sticks that rode outward from his torso on a curvature, bowing out to the extent of its elbow before reciprocating with a curve back to its waist at its wrists. Its legs likewise appeared similar in thinness but the thigh portions were much straighter while it was the knees and shins that curved inward before balancing outward to its attached feet which were more or less just extensions of the shin, flat and paddle like. The skeleton styled appearance was further conveyed in its skin, a twisting formation of black and white in crossing strands that appeared almost zebra like. The only evidence of colour within this monstrous creature were the never changing green ovals that were its eyes and this flamboyant purple tinged cape that rode up into curls at the side of his head blotting out any existence of there being a neck. It was simply the most luxurious of capes that Iota had ever seen, seemingly growing and shrinking in line with the entity's movements, bringing forth the shine of the quartz at every turn. The way it twirled around him, fluctuating closely and extending outward with the movement of his hand bringing forth a suspicious purple fog that was steadily pulling itself away from view.

"Still," Pharion spiralled into a discussion like tone unlike the menacing key that he had been attributed with, "he holds a great deal of respect from his colleagues for his cunning nature mired of course by his transparent honour."

"The core spheres," Interval stepped in with his questioning voice, turning to face the wall and looking upwards to the green emerald eyes of Pharion, "are we expected to believe that Kalibak would tear apart this planet, his home world out of spite for his father's failure to hold it?"

"You may believe what you will," Pharion conferred, "but if he so much as destroys this world his contract with his army will have concluded for he would no longer be able to give unto us what we have desired."

"That's it," Interval angled his head down, thoughts seeking out a second hypothesis that was in line with the facts of what was, "Kalibak's not planning to tear apart the planet…the spheres are lined up with the geyser," he turned to look at the baffled faces of his colleagues, a look of thrill in his eyes as the dots in his brain were connecting, "once they're ready, he's going to have them dropped simultaneously. Right down to the centre of this planet…" his loud triumph trailed off to a silent whisper as he aimed to the blue lit panel with its strange imagery, "he's going to reignite the core. It's brilliant." He nodded his head, accepting this as the appropriate conclusion to the operation before turning around at his super speed to face Pharion, "surely you know that that instant effect would cause the tectonic plates of the planet to run out of sync with one another; whole city blocks will be destroyed and plots of land will be moved till the centre has cooled and becomes stable…that could take months."

"Yes," Pharion slurred off, "but it will survive all the same, that is all that matters to me. Those lowlies whom survive will serve in the rebuilding effort. Order will be established once more in this chaos."

"Why bother with this dual?" Interval shook his head, "why not drop them now."

"I deduced this softness within Kalibak," Pharion offered his judgement; "he has a need for these lowlies and a respect for the world that his father once commanded. It is a weakness that goes unshared with those under his command. I assure you, even if he fails the cores will be dropped and those whom survive will be forced into labour, just worked extra hard to make up for those whom were lost."

"I won't let this go through," Mellany shouted out, asserting herself forward to the wall with her warriors glare upon Pharion, the delicate purple flushing through the parameters of her skin to become whole.

"Then have your master surrender little one, and now one should come to harm," Pharion insinuated from his stature, "you are of no threat to me."

"How much time are you going to need to shut that thing down?" Iota looked to Interval but saw within his eyes a look of uncertainty that was certainly not something he wanted to see within his hopeful deus ex machina.

"There's over twenty different keys, with the need of fifteen different characters," Interval hummed as he looked back down to the key, his fingers fluctuating towards the finger tips sized buttons with the strange letters he had little understanding of, "could take me anywhere between a minute and an hour to get the right one. I don't see what difference it would make if it's just going to shut down Kalibak's armour."

The fingers of the speedster suddenly slipped into an unwatchable speed, saluting through the air with a vibrating speed that the lantern could no longer keep up with, "yeah, well," he stammered, "maybe we can convince Kalibak to hold his end of the bargain…in the meantime; we'll try to hold him back for that long…."

Pharion leaped from the balcony top, one foot poised straight ahead while the over bent at the knee in behind; its hands were raised with fingers twirling into the purple magic of his trailing cape that seemed to grow so heavenly with its fluffiness, he was ready to command forth his traps as was inclined by his mysterious nature. Not to be put out of a good showing though, Iota charged himself up and with the power of his ring, rose to the occasion for conflict, taking to the air with a majestic fist pressed forward to lock onto the flat face of his opponent. The moment of time that flowed between the two's majestic movements seemed to slow down but much to Iota's detriment. His face violently contorted into wrinkles with wincing eyes and clenching teeth while the wrist of his forward placing fist began to break backwards of itself towards the length of his arm. Pain was the understatement of this affair for the creature Pharion had taken command of the Lantern's body once more, strapping to his wrists and shins body conforming purple quartz composed gauntlets that stretched out his limbs the full distance from his body. It didn't take long for him to realize that the unbreakable boards had been connected to the gauntlets piece and then crossed down with a vertical board that made any attempt to move his limbs vaguely impossible.

Pharion paused in the air, pulling his legs side by side and angling out one arm out at the angle and down to his waist with his hand while the other fluttered out and reached towards the teen Lantern only teen feet away from him, suspended in the air. The cape of the mysterious being flowed unevenly in its past, continuing its magical continuation into lingering flames that produced a heavy smoke like ash, "I shall finish you fast Lantern."

"Oh not again," Iota looked over his shoulder with a grunt, recognizing the enveloping circle of black that was the howling winds of darkness. A thick coat of black clouds rummaging around with a sturdy stream of white snow that made the image all too much like a galaxy facing its imminent implosion at the centre with tentacles of its mixed distaste breaking free from the truck sized opening into an unquenchable black hole. The hero was being pulled quicker and quicker towards the death that was an eternal, lonely life.

Mellany, knowing full well of the mother box straddled around the backside of Pharion's neck, the source of his power and connection to the eternal darkness, ran towards the wall ready to cling to it as best she could for a second leap that would take her up to the entity's side. The tip of her foot crunched up along the wall, her body following through with enough energy to pressure the bone to break, but with swiftness and skill, she allowed the foot to explode up straight giving her enough momentum to place a jump off the wall to get higher in the air, turning with her hands ready to clasp around Pharion's neck…but the fell apart quite suddenly. Pharion turned his head back sharply to catch the girls movements just before her touch could make it, slowly moving by comparison with his processor of vision awareness making her all that easy of a target to grab hold of.

"Whoa!" Iota let out a shriek as he suddenly found himself hurtling to the other side of the room. The shift in posture proposed a movement of Pharion's hand that controlled Iota, turning him away from the death trap that was at the end of his show. The boy shook his head violently, clenching his teeth down with absolute hatred as he attempted in vain to break himself free of his restraints.

"Little one," Pharion glared down into her widening eyes, choked with little hope of breaking free. Her fingers flared around Pharion's tight mechanic grab but the pressure added of her strength was beginning to fade with the purple hue of her skin beginning to fade of its colour into a pale assortment, "you have no idea of what power you are dealing with." Pharion swivelled around quickly to face the wormhole of his creation, further tossing Iota from its path but much to his dismay as he realized his fate had been traded to her. The tight clasp had been let go, but the wavering of his fingers in their tightly knit orbit showed that he was not quite done, forming a quartz neck chain around Mellany's neck, cradling along the mould of her chin keeping it upwards with its choking strength. And so there she went, fluttering away towards the hole, drawn in by its power.

"Interval!" Iota cried out but the scream did not meet well with the indifferent speedster whom steadily worked away at the keypad with a hope of cracking its code; as such, the Lantern to be was forced to work upon his own solution. "This is going to hurt," he grunted as he began to twist around his shoulder joint, turning over the extent of his right arm from front facing to back. Needing the extra space, the glove encasing so strong upon his forearm suddenly stripped down to his organic skin giving him that extra percentage to force a deafening crack that brought out the dislocation of his arm; with a free hand, he was that much closer from breaking free.

Pharion was suddenly blindsided by a darting emerald lit figure moving at a speed he could not get a handle on, a full on tackling dive that broke down the central beam of his back forming a unimaginable arch backwards of his shoulders from his legs but not once letting out a shriek of despair that any other person would secede to. Iota had grabbed the full weight of his body around Pharion, pushing him on a collision course with Mellany up ahead. With an angry laced shout, Iota pulled back and unleashed a violent beam of his green energy that engulfed the entity's back side.

"No!" Pharion finally let lose his dry monotone of concern for his wellbeing. The force of the blast upon his backside had a simple aim in addition to sudden him to his doom: his power source which it undoubtedly punctured. the small gray rectangular box like electronic, known as a mother box, that road along the back of his neck had been lost in the aftermath of the attack; something he was just realizing when the electronic feedback shared it to be less than operating at its top condition. Unfortunate as it was indeed for the path he had been throttled into was anything but glorious, the hole of his own creation which embodied thoughts of its despair and damnation. The neck crunching girth that cuffed Mellany's neck suddenly broke off of its control, barrelling to the ground but quite saved by a boy with a happy grin; Iota's arms flowed around her, keeping her close as he descended to the floor for safety. The wormhole leading into the darkness snapped a few bolts of its internal electrical storm before decreasing in its size, boiling down to a single point that shattered into nothingness.

"That's it," Interval exclaimed, "I've got it!"

* * *

Kalibak was down to his knees, scrapping along the floor as he waddled his massive structure to get back up onto his hulking feet but couldn't quite get past the medicine balls that were his knees which continued to slump and slumber on the red crusted floor; all this while he pulled up his massive claw hand facing the heroic Nightwing to his face, curving the wide circular palm to cradle his chin which had met its match with an unmanageable pain that was so unimaginably forced upon him by the strength of a teenager. "I can't…" the new god stammered through loose lip that descended from their usual fixed positions, "Is that all you got," he final growled as he pressed his palms into the grounds, sinking his claws in for steadying as he allowed his feet to regain their solid positions on the ground.

"You can't honestly believe you'll win dreg," Nightwing insinuated just as the coils of the black cords wound back up into their compartments followed by their attached pipes, "now, if you want to surrender now, I'll take it but you aren't going to be leaving with any dignity, we're well beyond that now," he finished off with a smirk, swivelling his hands around his waist line to perform quite a heroic, even god-like, image.

"I will destroy," Kalibak attempted to continue to scowl but the looseness of his lips and indeed, the collapsing of his jaw continued to take hold, "You!" he shouted as loud as he could possibly muster, through all the sickness within, hurdling blood and spew from the bottom of his throat upward; he was more than just angry, he had an unquenchable thirst for the limp body of the bat-boy under his tyrant built boots. Without time to think through a coherent plan of action, or even moment to think of anything really, the hulking mass that was Kalibak went full on into a second tread like the last though this time with absolute rage in his blood lust eyes.

Seeing this blob like entity with its hanging flabby jaw in tow, Nightwing was forced to confront the fear that was divulging itself throughout his body. He suddenly began to freeze up, relying upon the instinct to raise his hands in self-defence knowing full well now that he had exhausted all of his resources and strategies and that this time Kalibak had really taken to the claim of his ultimate desire with his unsatisfied vengeance as a motivation, treading a near twenty metres of space in the span of two and a half seconds, barrelling as it were towards the boy.

"What?" Kalibak's slippery voice rung through as his proper glide of running suspiciously seemed to mysterious blow out; his legs suddenly slouching down hard to the floor and unmoving while the yellow gem that decorated his chest and subsequent body encompassing lines losing their intense glow. His leading shoulder found the dive first, bringing forth the right hand to block his fall while the entirety of his left hand awkwardly fell to his back side leaving a tear in his shoulder socket. To say that this monstrosity tumbled was quite the understatement; he had literally made the ground his own, though the god of the dirt had little sway in leadership matters.

Nightwing's flinching state came to a sudden stop; the clenched teeth slowly loss their tense while bolted shut eyes came back to life along with hands and feet suddenly coming back down from the poor defensive positions they had taken. He suddenly felt a jolt of shock down his spine, the resulting aftermath of seeing such a sight that was the slumping and unmoving Kalibak, littered on the ground like the trash he had always figured him to be. "Yes!" Nightwing bent his knees forward slightly and tensed his arms at right angles finishing off with fists and staring up to the sky with a wonderful glee to his smile; victory had been achieved. "Really?" Nightwing suddenly relaxed his shoulders just as he stood up straight, shaking his head with an air of dissatisfaction around, "not a single cheer?"

"Does it hurt?" Kalibak mustered up a strong tone as he waddled around on his shoulder ends attempting to make his face clear to the conqueror standing above him, though the difficulty for such an act became quite appalling on account of the head piece being so perfectly connected with the shoulder armour, "not a single word spoken, not a single cheer for your triumph here today…."

"Wait…what?" Nightwing lowered himself down to get an image of the huddling up face of the fallen new god, seeing there to be along the outer cut of his lips, ahead of the metal bullet casing along his cheeks; new scars.

"You haven't won by your divinity," Kalibak scoffed with chuckle that appeared quite painful with the darkened flavour of his blood gushing through the yellow stains of his teeth, "I have fallen of my own unworthiness, but you…you parade around as though you have earned something but this act of yours won't hold for ever…there will be a time where they will see you bleed, someone will come and see through this outlandish charade." He began to huff awkwardly, straining to keep his body up, "and you can't always be here, you weren't even here when I arrive…I assure you that I have been most lenient with these people while you were away, an attribute that others will not be so keen to follow; they will slaughter your children while you sleep."

Nightwing began to feel the boil tensing up in his chest along with the tightening of his teeth. He raised his foot and placed it upon Kalibak's shoulder at the access point leading to his head, "shut up," he stuttered as he placed a light pressure that nonetheless snapped the new god's will, allowing his head to fall freely to face the floor with what would no doubt be the final blow.

* * *

"Well, I'm glad that over and done with…much too long and too less riveting to keep me enticed to the end," Todd gleefully stated with a tooth encompassing smile. The bouncy boy had taken to his dark velvety emperor robes, the thick body encompassing garment that heavily weighed down on his shoulders and rounded loosely around his arms and neck producing ripples but nonetheless stood to shine a golden brightness with whatever meagre lighting was available. "With Kalibak safely in prison," he ruffled up the shoulder's to get more comfort upon his Nightwing uniform underneath, "I guess we could say that the wrath of Darkseid is long over."

"You have done your children a great service once more," Lucic slipped in with his humble form.

The lot of them; the team of young heroes, Mellany in her blue, and Lucic, had come to stand in the palace foyer, the place where their recent story had first started on this planet. It was a medium sized indoor arena like space, very much like bunker in its single slab like construction, hollowed out to accommodate a party of individuals within. Needless to say, the walls, floor and high ceiling were of the quaint red hue of vibrant fire, though this place had a bit more of a luxurious stature than the other rooms ventured into; large pillars moulded out from the walls, sitting evenly spaced from one another, and widened upward towards the ceiling on a diagonal line. Near the top of these pillars, just a few feet short of the ceiling, were creamy white cones that blended outward shinning the softest of glows, a steamy path of light that lit all that was below. At the apparent front of the room, there was a rectangular cut into the wall with two encompassing steps leading up into stage which narrowed not too far ahead into a curvature forming a half circle where a long single story high strip of metal was layered; it was the golden door which had been open once before this very day and now would be open again to the multitudes of people who had come to pay their respects to their saviour. The group was firmly huddled around in a loose knit circle at the centre of the room, though it was fair to mention that Todd was turned towards the door, somewhat ready to break formation at the moment that the time arose for him to do so.

"Kalibak may had a motive guided by his personal interests," Interval raised his voice up from a slow grovel to gather the attention of those around, "but he may have had an excellent idea. This world would certainly benefit greatly from a reignited planetary core. The amount of energy that you could harness would greatly exceed your current radiation retaining mode."

"I fear as though it would be too much," Mellany nodded in response.

"But what will you do with the cores?" Iota puzzled.

"We have scavengers whom will collect the cages," Mellany returned with a nod now to the Lantern, "they will be examined and analyzed. Whatever gradual energy can be gathered from them will be siphoned, but only within need."

"This planet is no longer the warship that Darkseid intended it to be," Lucic bumbled in with his own concluding logical outlay, "we only take what is required from our resources."

"Come on, let's get going," Todd quickly leapt into a determined stride towards the stage, pounding the flatness of his boots against the ground and proceeding up each step while the gears and loud smashing of unseen barriers saw the collapsing of the golden, falling in within the slot that supported it. Todd slopped down to simple steps, pulling his arms up right as he ventured into the opening, stopping at its exit line, where the light of the world fell upon him with its graces.

"I want to thank you for saving my life," Mellany turned to Iota's side and clasped her hands around the Iota's ring free hand while Interval and Lucic took to a step towards the stage to join the pride that was atop it. "All my years I was told that the Lantern's code was too great to include the lives of others, that they pitied the people and yet did nothing to end their suffering." Iota turned slowly too her, quite surprised by this girl's drop in tone, narrowing towards one that was anything but warrior like in its composition, almost sincere tipped with sadness, "I know now that I was wrong," she looked to his eyes and locked strongly within but was quite puzzled by the boy's heavy puffing, heart racing so strongly, "what's wrong?" she thought to ask quietly.

"Nothing," Iota blurted but was unable to shake his sight from her tanned organ skin with cradling dark eyes and lips, burnt blonde hair flowing out to her sides now over top of her shoulders covering the marks of her ears, "you just remind me of someone."

Todd's friends in behind watched now from a stationary position as the golden boy stepped outside, onto the outcropping circular balcony and towards the declining ramp straight ahead that led to the ground floor; a path he was to take to join his people. But as was to be expected, the crowd fell into a stunned silence, their sign of respect for someone as great as Todd who looked out over them from his high up position where he could see the city around his palace near stretch out forever with the multitudes of people standing where ever they could just to be in his sight, but it was within this realization that his smile suddenly slopped and his hands fell like heavy bags to his sides though unlike previous occasions of this encounter it wasn't the lack of chants for his eminence that were breaking down his ego. He turned suddenly and walked back inward of the stage plateau, head slumping as his hands started working around the ledges of his robes, pulling upward along his sides into bunches in an attempt to take it off of his body in time for encountering his surprised comrades.

"I thought today was an example of how great we are as heroes, as a team," Todd curled up the thick garment in both his hands as he rose his head up to greet the puzzled glares, save for Interval whom simply crossed his arms and leaned heavily to one side with a look in his eye that made it appear as though he knew what was to be said beforehand, "that this only affirms that we should be out in the public like the league is, advertising and placing ourselves at the front line because that's just what we're supposed to do to protect the innocent; make ourselves the target. But I'm not ready…" his eyes fluttered with the strange sways of his head to each side, "I won today not because I was a god with divine powers, but because of my friends; I needed my team…" he looked to Lucic and to Mellany with his glazed blue eyes, "I'm not always going to be here, I can't be," he stuttered, "Interval was right, we can't just hope that our presence will be enough to deter villains from attacking the innocent, not when they find out that we're incapable of actually putting up any real fight. When they can't get me then they'll go after anyone I've ever cared for…and I can't stomach that."

"But we never would have found out about Kalibak's plot if you hadn't come here to challenge him," Mellany stepped up, "we need you!"

"I'm starting to understand why Superman and Orion wanted to keep this place a secret and rarely come here," Todd started back up again, "these people need to learn how to confront their problems on their own strengths, like they have already…look at what you have all accomplished here without us; you've turned a war planet into a thriving garden filled with life. If something like Kalibak comes along I'll certainly help as best I can, but I can't save the planet all the time and it's not because I don't want to…I really do, I wish I could be here all the time to watch over everyone…but I can't, I'm not god...I don't want to be. You can't rely upon me all the time, I'm going to fail you," he choked up, "I'm going to fail myself." He hobbled along the stage back into the inner room but came to a resounding stop at the side of Lucic, handing to him his emperor's garbs, "consider this my resignation."

"He's always wanted to say that," Iota whispered.

"You've been reading his war journals also?" Interval hummed in response.

"Let's focus on being a team first," Todd graced his two teammates, reaching his hands around the top of their shoulders and pulling himself in between, taking to a small grin, "there's a lot of potential in us. One day we shall show the world what we're made of."

"Alright, that was one of your dream lines," Iota slapped his hand down on Todd's gracing arm, walking away best he could, "and don't be telling me you wanted it to apply to the team because it definitely read 'I' instead of 'we'."

"Trivial," Interval crossed his arms and stepped away.

"What?" Todd shouted out with his arms raised to his sides. "You know I was saving that line for just the perfect story…just listen…."


	25. Nightwing 6

Nightwing #6  
Volume 1. Story 5.  
Plasmatic Justice

* * *

The work load for someone in the legal profession was often arduous, even though being endowed with the swiftness, strength and beauty of a god, Cassie was no exception. She was thrilled to tell herself that all her goals for the week had been accomplished, albeit quite poorly by normal standards, but the weekend proved time to unwind and deal with the matters affecting her personal life. There was one particular issue she desired to so strongly to address for some time but was never quite certain as to how; and that problem was her nephew Todd.

Ever since he had arrived there had been new troubles and new challenges in her life, the boy was quite energetic but not in a way that could be construed as being professionally useful, rather the form of energy that flowed through him often produced a very spastic child with a fragile mind that sporadically shot off from topic to topic upon the slightest waning of interest. The problem of course arose from the latter feature of his character because as of late, he had been anything but that. Quiet and tempered, the boy was either sitting in his room or out doing the thing claimed as his living purpose; gallivanting through the night as the costumed vigilante Nightwing. The context of the problem was no doubt a crisis of the heart; throughout her existence as a super heroine she had experienced a multitude of relationships with other heroes and enjoyed the close ties with her family that had made her stronger as a person and a hero, it was a part of her that she thought to be for the most part was shared throughout the hero community and as such would be most beneficial to the young heroes whom were just getting started, though she had to admit to herself that there was one particular person within their ranks whom did not share this view, and that person just happened to be someone Todd looked up to.

Cassie was quite tall woman with a muscular physique to match. Unlike most of her compatriots, she wore her hair quite short to her scalp, allowing the curvature of the thread like hairs to pull away at her forehead but modestly hold straight at her sides. Her blue eyes however we quite in line with the others, a hardened crystalized blue though of a much softer variety. With a perception of perfect cheek bones modelled to a modest chin, she was no doubt the child of a god; one half anyway. Taking no time to change, she kept to her fine lawyer garbs; sharp white collard blouse with a black long sleeve jacket that was rather boxed upon the tops of her shoulders but softened down her rather buxom form. The dark matching pants and polished shoes followed in the fashionable design; it was luxury wear in a way, as far as considerations for the threads and fabrics that made it up, but still, it was quite comfortable as was the purpose when she selected the outfit for her workdays.

Cassie tip-toed her way along the single hallway within the apartment that she now shared with Todd, the absent of light as she did so making the walls in their paling blue appeared to be narrowing down towards the end. The last door on the left side led into Todd's room and with a simple double knock and a slight push against its firm door, the hinges at the corner edge gave way to its interior. Todd's room was anything but clean at the moment, if in fact it could have ever been compared to something that was moderately clean. The walls were still holding to a strong blue as in line with his favourite colour that contrasted the white trim that blended into the ceiling which further sought to complement the cream coloured carpeted floor, though perhaps it was whiter before he had arrived to make it his living space. The room was rectangular in its shape and she had entered from one of its broadsides nearest to the so called inner side for the adjacent wall was no more than a foot to her left side. Along the opposing broadside was the lone window, a long rectangular piece with a pure white inlay that surrounded its sides and cut it vertically in half; it was big enough to fit a crouching body through just as Cassie had imagined her younger friend to have been using to his advantage. Underneath the glass was simple dark brown desk with the multitude of drawers down on either side of the blue cushioned chair that snuggly fit underneath; it was full of thick papers with various scribbles and felt colours, nothing of which indicated a particular homework bent to his being but rather an exploration of artistic talent that she had not been made known to. The floor had met its match with his clothing for Todd had believed himself to be one to wear something new every day though this was seldom the case, the much lighter varnished dresser that reached Cassie's chest height and was stuck to the long wall to her right had its drawers pulled wide open and yet so unrevealing of their contents; perhaps it was never used. Mishandled dishes, odd looking trinkets and bat related gadgetry consisted of the other things that had fallen upon the floor, all of which left to their bacteria fuelled delight. It was positively untidy save for one detail; the jack sized bed that laid out end to end at each broadside, clinging to the smaller inner side wall directly in front of Cassie, it was fashioned quite nicely with its clean blue blanket its 'made' condition, though this was not surprising since it was hardly ever used. It was on this bed that she found Todd to be smiling unevenly as he cradled his hand underneath the chin of his slumping orange tabby cat, peaking in for a soft scratch that resulting closing of the cat's eyes with delight.

Todd was a rather bright child, though not classified as such based upon his intelligence but rather for the good looks of his being, god like traits that were inherited from his mother though he was quite lacking in height by comparison. His hair was smooth, gracing the top of his head in straightness before curling out to the sides of his head; it was a pure unmatchable black that was arguably unnatural for any person to have been born with. His eyes likewise conveyed a glossy oceanic blue that appeared like stars even in the whites of his eyes. Today, he had taken to wearing a short sleeved thick collard white shirt graced with the overlap of a black vest that just rode by his waist line where he wore the most luxurious of dark dress pants with a well-mixed belt save for the bright metallic blue buckle that was at the front and centre though its shine failed to take ones attention away from the majesty of his face.

"Todd, I'm home," Cassie started up with a simple kicked away at a discarded pair of red pants. She half-heartedly laughed to herself as she trudged forward in the room, "how are you doing."

"Fine!" Todd's eyebrows bounced with a smile, his hand dropping tired from the cats chin allowing it to slump down to the top of the bed for a well-deserved rest. Todd swivelled out his legs to reach out the end of the bed, "how was your day?"

"A bit hectic," Cassie responded with an unnerving roll of her eyes, "Celeste heads in for the Bar exam-"

"That your secretary?" Todd interrupted.

"Paralegal," Cassie stared Todd down, "she's been overly paranoid as of late so I've been forced to take up much more than my regular load." Cassie scrawled her way towards the desk, lacing her hands around the top bracket of the chair and pulling it free through the rubble of the floor, "so how are you doing," she took her seat directly across from the boy, "really?" she leaned in.

"Fine…" Todd stretched out his lone word with narrowing eyes, the detective's hunch telling him that something more was going on than just a simple question.

"Really?" Cassie continued to prod but only got a nod of affirmation in response, "cause it seems to me you've been spending a lot time in your room lately."

"No," Todd shook his head, "I've been keeping up with my education, and you know there's that night time stuff."

"Yeah about that stuff," Cassie led out with a snicker, "I was wondering if you had given any thought to the things I was talking about; you know about one day dropping the tights and maybe starting a life for yourself, like a real life with your friends and family."

"What?" Todd dropped his back against the wall; crunching his legs back up to the bed while ensuring that the cat would not be disturbed by his movements, "you want to get back into all of that again?"

"I want to know what you think about this mission that you've taken on," Cassie stepped up with a serious tone.

"Well, it's the right thing to do, I know that," Todd stated with a value that was less than certain, "as heroes we're expected to make this great sacrifice in living our own lives, to put ourselves on the line so that others can be given the opportunity to live in a world with violence or crime."

"But when do you expect that to end?" Cassie cued in with an understanding of the boy's confusion, "when will that world exist when you're no long needed?"

"No," Todd interjected with an informative tone, "the war is never over. We fight on because the criminals of the world never tire with their acts and someone has to be there to stop them, people like us."

"Then there's just no time for friends and family?" Cassie came across as rhetorical, "what about your teammates?"

"Well I haven't exactly been the best leader, not in the strictest sense," Todd conferred, "and it's not like I really need them to be my friends, I just kind of needed their skills, what they have to offer to the table so to speak…I guess I just really need them to think we're all good together so that they stay around. I guess you could call that leadership in a way, I've only needed to say a few good words about them in person and in my war journals."

"What do you think of me Todd?" Cassie cut in sharply, "do you like me?"

Todd slipped back into his sly detective mode, narrowing eyes with a haphazard wince of his face, "yeah…you're an adequate caretaker?" he lips numbed up with paranoia regarding the inevitable backlash such a statement could incur.

"I don't want to be just your caretaker," Cassie began in a manner as Todd had imagined it; distraught and disturbed, "I want to be there for you, be a part of your life and family…I want to be someone you can look up to just as your mother is."

"No," Todd whimpered in, "I don't want a mother," he spoke in a furious hush, eyes transfixed upon his knee top while his head wavered from side to side in his own form of distress, "I don't need her."

"Todd, what's the matter with you?"

A sudden ring, a medium pitched roar, suddenly caught them off guard. In an instance, Todd broke from his wayward state to leap off from the bed attracting the green eyes of his fine furry friend as he popped over to his desk, nudging by Cassie to get through all of his papers. "Proxy?" he questioned as the smooth rectangular device slipped up to the side of his face, "what is it?"

"I've got a strange case I'd like you to handle. It's a bank robbery."

"Schway," Todd took on his menacing Nightwing voice, at least he though it as so.

"Todd you can't run off now," Cassie attempted to reprimand him.

"I have a case Cassie," Todd hushed her down, "what're the details?"

* * *

Two sets of feet in dark leather boots stamped across the smooth marble floor, "so what happened here?" a calm straight voice made its puzzlement heard, forwarding into a pause of silence that produced bittersweet stares between the himself and the next speaker.

"Beats me…" a growling shrivelled voice echoed in response followed by a deep ridden cough. Despite being an officer of the law, this beastly man was not shy in sharing his impressive girth characterized by a round belly supported by waddling fleshy thick legs; an aspect shared with his upper limbs extending outward to sausage like fingers. Though some detested, the girth that was his own was exemplified in a fine form fitting black jacket that straightened down to his knees, kept around his body by the application of eight round buttons set along the left side of his torso in pairs. His pants and shoes followed in with the rugged design, the tip of his toes being protected by no less than half a centimetre of metal coating with a thin layer of rubber. His face was less than puzzling, recognizable for the short curly red hairs that clung tightly to his scalp and freckled bulging sags for cheeks. The focus of attention had fallen upon his widening aged eyes, the multitude of small crevice, wrinkles, having formed after long tireless years of service. "Alarm tripped, but get this…" the guff man continued, the occasional rattling of his neck leading to some difficulty speaking, "it was from the inside of the vault…nothing going on from the outside of it."

"Couldn't the outside security systems have just been hacked?" the clean voice continued with its prodding. He was a much taller fellow than his colleague and much more brazen with a youthful vigour. His hair was of a fair blonde and road straight of the ledge of his high wrinkleless forehead allowing for the full view of his sharp tear shaped eyes with their darkened tastes. Overtop of the standard blackened blue officers uniform was a grey trench coat with inch wide lapels that crisply ran around the back of his shoulders before narrowing out down his sides; opting not to clip the buckles that would draw the coat shut.

"No sir, this stuff happened during business hours; everything's remained on the security grid…this things been broken into during the day with barely any notice," the tubby detective beckoned, "Anyways, it's a national bank, security system was built up by the NSA, mighty difficult to break into. Manager could have pulled this off but even then the cameras link up to their head office for the eyes of his superiors…they haven't been tampered with. We've also Done all the usual checks; no tunnels or tool marks. Somehow, the dregs just got in. Mighty crafty if you ask me…wonder how they did it," he muzzled.

"How do you figure we have more than one person on our hands?" the clean officer's eyes bounced with the rhetorical sentiment as he stepped by his fellow officer with intent of dropping to his knees to take a look into the open safe door, "we have a mystery on our hands…no doubt about it."

The two detectives were not alone in this adventure, a score of other ranking officers scattered throughout the immediate area well dressed in their fine black impact proof waist coats and padded gear. As was attached to the normalcy of the police uniform, golden pentagon shaped centimetre thick badges bunched on the outer ends of their shoulders leading into their arms as well as on the right side of their chest, more distinctively listing their district title.

The interior of the bank was rather majestic, large and smoothly built up with a glistening marble that was wrapping tones of greys and whites in a spiral fashion. Two of the side walls were rather miniscule in length through comparison, one fourth the size of the broad sides, but nonetheless long, being approximately nine metres in length while holding to a height no less than five stories. Jutting out quite a distance away from these side walls were the teller counters, spacious black painted boxes with short counter top arching into a pane of glass that not only straightened vertically but also round into a corner heading towards the back wall to form a ceiling. Eight squared pillars compiled the majority of the inner bank in support of the ceiling, standing as tall as they were to a short distance ahead of the tellers' booths to come almost in line with what would figure to be the centre; the pillars being broken down as four to each side countering each other in sets thereby forming a centred pathway in between which just so happened to lead from the front to the bank vault of interest.

The bottom of the bank front was comprises of two sets of doors composed of a pure sheen of glass, a necessity since the automatic movements reeled them within the hollowed side slots in the marble for coverage thereby opening this realm to the outside world; at the moment however, the doors were very much locked in their place. At the dividing line of what would be the first floor was a thick foot high black painted metal that rode horizontally above the doors; this was evidentially the supporting beam for the extensive use of panels above it. These metres high, foot long squares of metal were entrenched all the way up to the top of the building where like the teller booths, curved around to become a part of the ceiling, coming to a sudden stop at half way. Within each hollow block was a sturdy aqua coloured tinted window piece which with the presence of sunlight produced a fabulous oceanic projection that spattered along the floor leading up to the silver coating of the vault. The location for the vault was on an elevated plateau, two steps up from the main floor. The vault door, a large no doubt heavy metal construction was just slightly ajar but was being opened further by the detective leaning his hands along its inner edge and pushing inward to take an extensive look inside.

At the ceiling level, the lights were enclosed in cone shaped objects that hung to the inner stone of the ceiling by their cords intertwined with metal chains to keep them aligned. The length down was quite long and thereby perfect for the teen hero Nightwing to keep himself unseen to the inquiring officers below. "This would be easier if he had given me the cloak app," he complained under his breath. The hero had drawn himself into the inner corner of the building opposing the sun filled glow of the entrance, clinging the bottom of each foot to adjacent walls for support, further using the arch of his knees to bring his back up close to the wall to gain a measure of comfort as he peered down at the police activities.

"What have you got for me?"

"What is to be expected when a story starts out like this," Nightwing responded swiftly with the usual flair of sarcasm, "cops show up, they're baffled, then the young hero of the tale comes along and does everything for them…looking the places they can't, finding the clues that they would never have expected," he paused for a moment, clasping a hand to his chin with a puzzling index finger following a rubbing trail along his cheek while his eyes narrowed from the white to black.

"And what have you found?"

"Not sure at this moment." The Nightwing of this era was quite a different person from his noteworthy predecessor; though this youthful character retained some of the more base costume arrangements, he had taken to more stylized approach for himself. Todd opted for a fuller black body suit, forgoing the domino mask for a full facial mask with small bat ears that somewhat rose with a curve to the back of his head. His boots were an offset grey, clinging to his feet awkwardly with rather baggy padded fabric holding rather loosely around his shins. His forearms were covered in gauntlet like objects that unlike the boots were pretty well hammered down to his flesh. The outer side of the gauntlets were particularly large, near bubble like though narrowed downward towards his elbow from a rather cumbersome front; it was a carrying case for his more exclusive weaponry. Upon his chest was a blue falcon, an arrangement of geometric shapes with a long wing span diagonally straightening down to the centre of his chest, with a diamond shaped tail and a narrowing angled neck that saw the spread of two beak like structures out to his ride side; the mark of his arrangement in the line of heroes whom dared to take on the name Nightwing and responsibility that it brought with it.

"We got an officer reviewing the tapes," the thicker cough voice started up again, "says there was a suspicious looking vehicle that parked outside the front entrance of the bank for about ten minutes over three hours ago…that'd be a half hour prior to the alarm," he let out a sturdy cough, reaching the cuff of his wrist to the mouth in a half-hearted attempt to keep those around him clean from the disease, "nothing went in, nothing went out of it. Could have something to do with it."

"Alright," the clean man rose to his feet, swivelling as he did so to counter his comrade, "let's take a look at what we're missing." His coarse hands slipped into the slanting pockets, immersing themselves in the velvety fine texture of the bulky insides as he stepped along to the end of the plateau with hunched shoulders letting his mind wander through the events of the day to piece together what exactly went down at this location that has gotten him so stumped.

"What have you gotten any thing on the security breaks?" Nightwing prodded with a muzzled narration.

"Its NSA technology, Agent Thermos constructed security software that's proven to be difficult even for us to hack in to. Not that we'll be having any issues today, the man responsible for the software's core components also created the software to break in to it before he defected."

"Well, the crime here happened during the day," Nightwing continued to confer with his bat source on the other end of the line, simply known as Proxy. "We've run into guys who can go invisible…" his eyes slumped with a reaffirming scowl.

"I'll vie for your right to have the cloaking app. Now, can we move on with the investigation?"

"Thank you," Nightwing nodded with a heart-warming smile, "but even with invisibility," he narrowed his attention back to the vault with a more serious tone encapsulating his voice, "it's not like you can walk into a bank and open a thousand pound door without anyone noticing…some sort of multi-atom phasing technology…?" he puzzled.

"It's not something completely unheard of."

"Good, cause I just made that last bit up," Nightwing relented with a unseen sarcastic grin.

"That kind of technology often leaves behind traces of its activities. Toggle the radiation and ion spectrums."

"Is that an order?" Nightwing curved his head, looking through the length of the pillar created path of the bank lobby while keeping a steady hand to his head, fingers pressed lightly along his temple, "detective mode activated and probably saying so for the duration of this case, sigh." The ocular panel within the cowl began its spattering arrays of different modes of vision; taking into one that threw the world into a complete sheen of red and another that threw the world into complete darkness save for the lights which shined less than half of what they actually gave off. He came to a stop the moment the ocular gears had shifted to a vision template that made the world appear completely blue as though the aquarium atmosphere as posited by the front entrance windows had been extended beyond just the reach of the sunlight, though the fitting wave patterns it performed had become completely absent. It was as though a blue piece of cellophane had been pasted on to his mask blocking his eyes, though it was in this vision mode that he had come across the clue he was looking for, "I think I've got something."

"What is it?"

"It's being picked up on as an ion trail of some sort," Nightwing turned his head towards the front doors and followed through to the bank vault, "it's a thin dark cloud layers. It's just kind of flying around from the front doors to the safe vault…someone may have walked into here after all."

"Can you get me a sample to Analyze?"

"Yeah sure," Nightwing commented with an eagerness to entice himself in some much needed action. The trail that had caught his attention was a rather abstracting feature to the flush baby blue that had encapsulated the marble floor as a result of the vision filter; it was a dark, near black cloud that rummaged in a cyclical pattern all the way from the front of the building, where no door slid open, all the way to the vault.

"Whoa?" The tubby officer threw his hands up and felt the eclipsing of his balance, stepping backward at an awkward angle to fall into the hands of his partner whom likewise placed upon his face a look of shock and wonderment. The smaller man slumped down the front of his partner, shaking his head with absolute bewilderment; all this caused by the sudden appearance of the teen Hero Nightwing, smashing to the ground with a softened thud as a result of his frog like position followed by an almost immediate prop back up straight.

"This is kind of cool," Nightwing proceeded to wave his hand around into the air, fluctuating his fingers as they came to reverberate around the blue particles at his chest, through the bubbles of blue outward from the line before they reshaped back to their straight path. For whatever reason, it was marvellously fun and he soon found his imagination squandering in the patterns being made by the shapely movements of his hands; he had almost lost himself.

"Can you keep your hand steady, I can't get a clear reading with all that movement."

"Alright," Nightwing piqued up to a high pitched response. His eyes fell back down to their natural strength as he opened up his palm, holding his fingers out as straight as possible, suspended in the smoke.

The tips of his fingers lit up in a strong electronic blue light, phasing out from the gloves in a format akin to computer chip scribbles; straight lines contorted at angles on various degrees and forming more or less geometric shapes along the breadth of his larger fingers coming to an abrupt stop at the top of his palms, "I'm getting some awesome power readings on my ends, this stuff is strong whatever it is."

"It's plasma; ionized energy."

Nightwing's head looked up ahead to the glass doors, "its got quite the trail. I'm a try to see if it leads me anywhere." He slapped his right hand upon the ground and used its frictional pull to break into a full on run along the path line.

"Hey, what are you doing?" The disgruntled detective with the cough beckoned out with a coarse sneer that appeared quite painful through all the phlegm which chunked its way up with the final questioning word. His thickly flesh arm reached out to the teen hero with all its might but it just wasn't enough to even get a snag.

"What are you doing here?" The taller clean officer dropped his grasp from his partner when balance had been reassured, stomaching an induced shock of irregular breaths as he paced himself for the actions needed to be taken with the hero their presence. "What do you want?" he continued to process through the necessary questions even long after the boy was out of ear shot, nearing the front end of the bank.

Nightwing pivoted his right foot forward and started up into long strides along the smooth floor to reach the for a way outside, slowing down somewhat with the approaching collision as time would need to be provided for the sensor to take up his presence. With the slide of the door to its inside wall slot the power of the afternoon sun blistered through the blushing oceanic green stained floor of the bank with its yellow tinted rays that returned the hurricane white and greys of the marble to its proper context. A few steps more and he was outdoors, stepping upon the firm concrete the made up the wide panning sidewalk that surrounded the bank building. As could be expected at this hour, the tar roads of the inner city were quite aglow with the lively blue tinted vehicles in their many sizes suited to variable purposes along with the chattering and stepping of the strange blue people that crossed along the sides walks fulfilling their natural need for outdoor air. The buildings to his front on the opposing street and further down the sides of the bank were not much different from one another though he was enthused by the occasional Romanesque styled constructs with a quarry of plastic stones protruding out from a rather steely glass building that soared upwards of the heavens, as was the case with the bank behind him. But in the meantime, a particular part of the inner parking lane along this sidewalk was of interest to him for that was where the trail had ended, "it's some sort of bubble, a ball of this cloudy blue energy," he commented, "it's kind of just sitting in the air…could have been the power source in a vehicle or something, probably that van the cops were talking about."

"I've already got our satellites working on finding other plasma uses, won't take that long to find any action in the immediate area."

"Great," Nightwing slyly commented with just a slight shoulder snub back to see the mass of officers clambering through the central path of the bank hall to get their hands on him.

"We have a few sources who know a lot about using plasma as a form of weapon energy, I'm going to see if I can get a hold of one of our operatives. In the meantime, get some height; I'll have some places for you to check out within the next few seconds."

"Kay," Nightwing responded with the injection of the boosters at the bottom of his boots that are embedded into the soles. The distressed detectives had just gotten through the entrance doors just as the teen hero was making some time for the atmosphere; they had lost their only lead.

* * *

"Mr. Wayne, sir, there is a Miss Cassie Sandsmark requesting you."

Bruce Wayne was entering into his elderly years, but the sleek crown of grey was long in waiting considering his many years of wise council and leadership. His shoulders were wide and well formed in a squared formation, a throwback to his years under the cowl, the history which continued in his tight fitting suit; a black garb of the finest materials. His eyes had never changed, they were neither uplifting nor mortifying…just plain stubborn. He was sitting behind his oak built desk in his not too shabby office space; it was unnecessarily large and reached over two stories in height though it found its support in the wall spacing pane of the glass that comprised his backside giving quite the exemplary view of the stone and glass works of Gotham City. The finer features of the room consisted of a blood red soft carpeted floor with slightly contrasting blues that crawled along the smooth stones that made up the walls.

The old man's fingers played around with the small black speaker box on his desk, toggling the sound with his thumb and index finger while his other hand roamed towards the square foot flat panel piece that was his desk computer. The light blue that emanated from its glass top suddenly lowered down to the blankness of an empty screen, "That'll be fine, allow her in," his gruff voice sounded off, fingers leaving the controlling dial.

The automatic thin silver sheen door slid into its slot revealing the gentle blonde haired hero daring to take her first few steps, though the lawyer garbs distanced her from the belonging that Wayne was often associating her to. "You're a bit far from your base of operations Miss. Sandsmark," Wayne grunted as the tall girl made her way towards his desk, the hefty distance requiring her to take on a more hasty stride than she had been accustomed to.

"Well I'm sure you've clocked my speed before," Cassie carefully entered the realm of sarcasm, "I can get from one side of the country to the other before the elevator hits the bottom floor of your building here," she came to a stomping step at the front of his desk, numbing her hands into light curled fists at her side with a intent of showing her impressive height and muscular build that quite heavily out-weighed the former dark knight.

"What brings you to my city?" Wayne came out in his blunt tone.

"I've come to talk to you about your little soldier," Cassie cut straight in, "I want to know once and for all about what compels you to take on such nice innocent children and shape them in to hardened warriors for your war on crime, how you've managed to convince them that it's a war that'll never see its end."

"I had not heard your complaints when to Tim was under my tutelage."

"Tim never forgot about his friends or his family," Cassie rose up her right fist as she took on an angry tone, "he actually believed there would be a time when he would no longer be needed, but he always knew that we would…somewhere along the way, you just forgot about that and re-fired the machine with a new generation of kids."

"Now you're sounding just like him, some of those young ideals holding strong. Don't think I haven't been keeping an eye on your relationship with Luthor," Wayne sneered as he propped up his hands on his desk, spacing them out from his shoulder length, "are you planning on re-joining his crusade?"

"My relationship with Conner has nothing to do with Tim," Cassie spoke out sternly with a heavy smash of her open palm upon the heavy desk top, snapping in a leaning glare at the ever calm Wayne, "I just want to know why you would take sweet boy like my nephew Todd and make him become another man like you," Cassie rose back up, arms crossing along her chest as her eyes feasted to her inner rage, "he doesn't even believe in his own family, he has no concept of friendship, or how to love…it's just things that are there for him to use as tools, he's playing a game with anyone that's ever going to care about him…and I don't think he understands what he's doing. That care free attitude didn't hold up to the reality; he's hurting himself and he doesn't realize it," she let out a sight, "he wants to be you, but he's much too young to believing that yours is the only way."

Rather than get a flat out instant response as Cassie had expected, Wayne seemingly chocked up, silently staring at the top of his desk as though finding for himself a place of solace, "your wrong," his words fumbled, "I had nothing to do with his selection into the ranks," he narrowed his eyes into hers, taking on a whole new persona that unnerved her, "that was a decision made entirely by Dick…if I had it my way, he never would have gotten involved in all of this." Wayne let out a brief sigh, letting the pressure of his recent past free, allowing a more casual conversational tone to take hold "I always feared this would happen one day; that all the families in this hero community would someday come together and then their children would adopt new personas from a mixed heritage. I have always sought to keep my line distant from the others…."

"Why?" Cassie spoke up.

"I suppose I thought that everyone else was much happier than I was," Wayne uncharacteristically concluded, "over the past few decades, those enlisted in my services have always come to me…" he took a deep breath, "then there was Todd." He pressed his hands upon the outer ledge of his desk and pushed backward, giving his body some space from the top, "when I had first found him, he was so thrilled, so excited to be in this world as he called it. He knew everything about us…who we were, what we did. There was something familiar about him that I couldn't quite figure out so I had a sample of his blood tested and made the connection to his mother. When I had told him of this and offered to contact her…that happiness drained so fast away from his face. At that moment he was saddest child I had ever seen."

Cassie felt herself shake a little, clasping on to light breaths of air as her young nephew's history was beginning to unfold in manner she had never heard before, "there was no way I could care for him," Wayne started back up again, "I called in Diana to come get him, too find someone to take care of him as we both know her activities had little time for caretaker duties. I understand that she tried to contact the Todd's mother but she steadfastly refused to see him, it wasn't until Dick and Kory stepped up that things started to become better for him. I am uncertain of what events that led him to staying with you."

"I don't either," Cassie shyly responded as she turned her side to Wayne with a downward nod of her head, "he doesn't talk much about his time with Dick."

"I don't know what has happened for certain, but what I do know is," Wayne lurched in with his more than serious tone, "Todd was hardened long before we ever met…."

* * *

"Alright, so this is the place," Nightwing stated upon taking into his final leap. From the cornered edge of a bygone higher building, the teen crumbled at the knees in preparation for the landing upon the far ledge of another, the last building within the inner city limits. A sporadic indented ding snapped off when all of his limbs came to be planted upon the foot high rail around the perimeter of the building, the soft metal coating on its top somewhat being deformed with the pressure given off by the hero's body. He had come close to the coast, from a perfect location to look out at the rumbling of massive green tinted waves as they got caught up in impressive ocean current; though it was fair to say that he was only within smelling distance for a section of smaller buildings, mostly storage and boating facilities, dotted along the coast line which was blocked off from touch by high light coloured concrete barriers with their sloping half circle tops thereby diluting the existence of any beach heads. There was one particular building however that had gathered his attention, a warehouse like building large enough to fit around four semi-trucks with their massive trailers which is what he believed was its built purpose when taking in account of the cumbersome exit way on the wall adjacent to the ocean which additionally had only one road; an incline that lead up to the higher highway running parallel to the coast line. Today though, something more was going on than casual shipping.

The building he was crouched upon was centred well with the four lane highway below; the highway was elevated from ground on its outer side facing the ocean since the natural decline towards the waters was impassable for construction purposes. As such, a series of intricate poles and coverings produced a false floor that headed off at the bottom level of the building he stood upon and likewise continued along the line of all other buildings at either of its sides; suffice it to say, the outer rung of the highway was protected by a sizable bumper wall of rubber further dividing the connection from this inner world to the meagre coast lining society.

On the other side of the highway, and quite visibly so, was the top of the warehouse of interest, the building itself being on the actual ground which had been levelled flat for its purposes. Its outside body plating appeared to be quite brittle on account of its wavy pattern, indenting small circles to outward hills of the same size lining up vertically of the structure; the sickly green paint that coated it didn't fare well in making it any more presentable. The top of the building, while maintaining this weakly thin wavy covering, carried on a darker green that nearly tapped upon grey producing quite the contrasting difference. It was a roof composed of two pieces, angled upwards to hit each other at their inner edges, a full line at the centre running parallel to the broad sides which themselves were consistent with the ocean. While inclined, the ledges of the roof were not particularly steep making it possible for someone to land upon it and walk quite freely, a notion that Nightwing was quickly picking up on, seeing from his short distance that a lengthy window would provide well for his surveillance activities.

"It's loaded with this plasma activity," Nightwing continued, now formulating a informative attitude as his vision shifted towards the delightful baby blue tones, well at least in so far as the surrounding area were concerned for the warehouse had gathered a warm reception on account of the immensity and swarms of darkened blue gaseous particles that formulated around it blotting out all of its exterior details to the point that it appeared as though a blackened blob had replaced it. "Why is it always a warehouse?" he complained as modified his vision receptors back into the proper colours of the world.

"What do you mean?"

"It's just like…" Nightwing began to stammer. "These criminals are always hanging out in some abandoned warehouse or building and not only that," his head arched to his shoulder, looking around the to the incoming waves of water, taken up in its increasing power against the immovable walls, "it's always near like water or something…convenient if ever anything needed to be tossed away to safety, like a bomb or something."

"It's secluded, and number of storage buildings along the coastline, especially for shipping, range in the hundreds…it's difficult to pin point criminal activities in these areas without a trail as strong as ours."

"Still, don't be expecting me to be to toss anything into that pool of water," Nightwing tossed out his right arm, pointing towards the far reaching distance of the ocean, "Those vehicles and buildings will be exploding long before I start chucking them away to safety."

"We'll take our chances. Check it out."

"Moving in," Nightwing clasped his fingers down around the horizontal break of the ledge followed by a sudden prop forward, taking a lunge that saw the full recompression of his feet. A hefty distance away from the building and the strong blue wings retracted out from under his arms, pulling free from the inner side of his gauntlets at an angle to the middle side of his torso. Feet bound closely together, hands spread out far to his sides; he silently made his approach at a steady glide, down past the highway streets to the warehouse in question, occasionally gaining the awe of the vehicles humming along the roadway; becoming somewhat stifled in a couple cases upon the bat like shadow falling upon their windshields, slowing down to compensate for their shocked terror.

"Bet that's the van that was outside the bank," Nightwing immediately reached his hands upon the long window pane facing back towards the city scape after having made quite the sound landing with minimal tear down the slippery side. The window was revealed to be less fuller than it was in the distance, being instead a series of multiple square foot windows divided from one another by flat inch wide black metal bands. Numbering four of these panes upward, he was having difficulty keeping himself completely invisible, forced to draw himself back to the roofs ledge as far as possible which had the drawback of making the visibility of the interior rather difficult; nonetheless, he managed to make out a clear image of the apparent bank thieves and their vehicle.

The vehicle of choice for these criminals was more like an extended van, the back portion of which being a massive box like entity with squared sides reaching in excess of two metres upwards with nought a window or any significant markings upon its soft surface. This back end smoothly blended into the axel region foreboding the full appearance of a rather bulky set of black robust rubber tires, limiting the viewing space to just their bottoms touching the crude cement floor. The front of the vehicle however was not much different save for its open viewed tires, allowing for the fullness of this dumpster truck sized rubber wheels with their intricate treads to be seen in full circle under the two full seated cab space which was quite box looking in its near seamless continuation on from the back end. The side square shaped windows and vertically flat windshield were tinted to a heavy black while the paint job produced the feeling that the van had somehow been literally engulfed in a pool of tanned yellow paint; it was quite the ideal vehicle for the common criminals.

The criminals themselves, numbered as four in so far as could be seen. Constants to their persons was the all-encompassing slate grey body suits which had firmly over top of them a suspicious harness that wrapped tightly around their torso's. The harnesses was primarily composed of a thick fabric that outwardly appeared like plastic and was quite coarse to the touch; two inch and a half straps rode up the front and backside of their bodies like suspenders, taking such a position to act as holding boundaries for several of the same sized straps to wrap around their stomachs and encircling around their sides and backs. The only part of the harness that was double strapped was their shoulders; this was the result of two crossing straps at the front of their chest and at their backs, connected as it was to the top of the stomach encircling straps. "There's some sort of circular orb thing at the centre of their chest," Nightwing commented under his breath, "it's glowing like the plasma even without the vision filter…"

The interior of the building was rather bleak looking, the walls being certainly more flat than their exterior counter parts but well varnished in a rustic brown colour that quite readily broke into contrast with the even bleaker grey cement floor. With only few sources of dimming light, it was positively sickening to look at, but the occupants weren't too concerned about this fashionable despair for they were seemingly sick for another reason that they couldn't quite affirm. "Gene?" the weakling member of the group cried out with some disturbed pain emanating from his gut. He was certainly the youngest, regularly associated features of his being probably dictating his skeleton like frame with minimal muscle tone, an angular straight down chin that saw his cheeks be sunken into his mouth, and a flushed red nose that was quite narrowly protruding out from his face. Of the more calmer parts of him was his silk like brown hair that was ironed out across his scalp, parted at near one side of his forehead which gave excellent view to some rather large hazel eyes. Along with the harness, the young man was wearing the slate blue jump suit that clearly zipped from his waist upward to a rather stunted collard piece that was quick flappy around the bulge of his neck. The sleeves were cut off straight as though the cuffs had just been clipped off with scissors thereby making his limbs appear even more so frail as they bounced around the excess space, "I don't think I'm doing so well Gov," he continued to complain in his haphazard tone. He let his hands slip down along the van side as his knees stuttered in bending; dropping down to his bottom, he slumped over his lap slapping his thin fingers to his temples while inverting the bulk of his palms to come into contact with his aching eyes.

"Would you stop whining," a more assertive gruff voice crashed in with the heavy handed response. The man crossing along the front of the van kept his hands casually graced inside of his long jacket's pockets, an eccentric feature unique to him though still falling in line with the slate blue coloration of the other apparel. He filled out his frame with a hefty amount of muscle with a chin and cheek muscle structure that looked like it could stop bullets; all the more enticing on account of those menacing blue eyes that consistently appeared to be narrowed in with a frightful intention of violence despite whatever feeling was circumventing his desire to steal and destroy. His hair was straightened out to the sides, not to shortly worn as to make its thickly appearance well known in a less than consistent coloration; an array of mixing moulds that levitated from brown to blonde depending on angle of perception. With an above average build and an impressive height, it was quite well understood that he was the head of this operation if not its most level headed member. "We've already got enough problems as it is Chris, thanks to you tripping the bank alarm…I had big plans for this place and now we got to leave," he blurted out with a menacing finger bolting out from his pocket protection to take aim at the slumping member upon reaching the side of the van, "now buckle yourself up and let's get these funds out of here, we got a be leaving this city before the D.E.O. creeps realize we got one of their kids," his face suddenly winced into closed wrinkles as groan propped itself up through his gut, the jutting arm being retracted to provide arbitrary relief; no one on his team was to see the pain he was in.

"I don't know boss," Chris relented through a deep seated burp that brought forth the sickness from his gut, "think maybe she's poisoned us?"

"I don't know," Gene grunted in a lowly breath, turning his side to face the boy on his team of men, "Tyler!" His chin rose with an open mouth, a cry that rung out cleanly through the gurgling bubbles for the attention of his teammate.

"Yes Gov?" the light tone of Tyler came in almost immediately. A kindly looking gentleman stepped out from the back side of the van to stand on the opposing end of his leader, the tightly wound Chris still shackling himself to the ground at their centre. Tyler was lean fellow by comparison to his boss, but he was no slouch when it came to amassing some muscle tone; his face however was baby like in its cleanness though quite rounded to a small chin. His eyes were plain in their texture as was his brown hair which he wore short with the over lapping of sharpened bangs capping along the top of his forehead; in general, he was the most generic of the cretins, being one that looked to be the most honest which is probably why the boss trusted him with the most crucial of tasks.

"How's our power girl doing?" Gene shouted out with a sneer, the free hand retracing its steps back to the pocket with a painful push inward, clumping to a red fist.

"Well, I uh," Tyler began to stammer a bit, "I'll go check on her," he nodded with some reassurance as he awkwardly sided stepped to his original position at the back of the van to take a look at the cargo they stored within.

"Yeah you do that," Gene hummed to himself.

"Gov man," Chris continued to moan, now applying his hands even harder to his eyes as the intensity of the pain began to tear outward of his bones, "feel like my brains exploding…its melting, I need help."

"Well, I'm fine," Gene mocked, "this is the best heist we ever pulls off together," he waddled his body from side to side, using his pocketed hands to drag the coat around in a nonchalant manner, "I'm fine with all these creds…you fine with all this creds Ray?" He looked across the flat front of the van, seeing in the dark tint of the windshield a reflection of their final member; a tall bloke with a more rugged appearance that readily broke the mould of cleanness held by the others. He was a bit more toned than his boss Gene though this could more or less be a perception issue since Ray had not taken to wearing jacket to cover over his otherwise fine fitting body suit, which while bunching around his chest on account of the harness, still managed to convey a great deal of strength through his arms. His hair was a rare red that darkened to a brown and was not just present in wide brush strokes on his head but also as a stylish moustache that was angled inward from the ends of his lips creating a rather trapezoid figure below his brimming nose. He was a hefty distance away from the side of his boss, only a few strides from reaching the ceiling line high encompassing door that awaited the delivery of their van, but such a distance was not going to make itself known to his tread marks; in a sudden flash of blue light, a particle like energy, plasma, broke out from the orb at the centre of his harness, wrapping its raw energy around his body.

"No boss," Ray clasped his strong hands at the side of his waist, "I got no problems." The man smiled his sheepish grin as upon his sudden appearance at his boss's side, making a nod of affirmation towards Gene whom returned to him a similar gesture of endearment.

"He just sort of teleported," Nightwing mumbled under his breath, once more reaching out to his contact with the events unfolding under his surveillance from his position upon the roof.

"How?"

"It's got something to do with those vest-" the teen hero suddenly found himself cut off for a piercing high pitched sound reverberated around the metal structure of the warehouse, eclipsing through its walls and ceilings to reach into the very heart of his ear drums instinctively pulling forth a quick deduction of its young source; someone was being imprisoned inside that van, a small child if one was to judge from the sheer shock of integrity that such a sound conveyed.

"Todd? What was that? Was that a scream?"

"I've got to get in there now!" Nightwing swiftly stated as he brought forth his feet to the ledge of window the resulting factor of course being that he would be in full view if someone dared to look up to the rafters; just the way he would have liked it.

"What's going on in there Tyler?" Gene's voice spat out with heavy whiff of disgust.

"Sorry Gov," Ray crinkled his neck in a circular fashion, letting his arms slump down for some relaxation, "must have put too much in to my last jump," he finished off with a slight chuckle that merely glanced off the less than amused Gene.

"Gene," Tyler's voice cried out. His inner hand slapped onto the straight corner of their yellow van to hang out his body to the side to take a look back at his colleagues; the rectangular full back side door having been opened on the opposing side, "the ion pack has almost been charged," he concluded in haste, "but she isn't looking to well."

"So what?" Gene scowled, "we'll just ditch her on the way out. We got enough creds here for a lifetime don't you think?" the bulky leader sharply turned away to the forward wall, where the doors awaited his presence to be opened, "Chris, get on your feet and get those bags into the back of van, we're leaving now."

"Boss?" Chris moan broke in on a curvature from the lowest to the highest pitch he could reach as a frightening fear had dawned upon him, or rather over top of him. In the first moments of removing the bulk of his hands from his eyes, he was startled to find a black humanoid image shattering the glass piece of the sky light and bend the flat black band metal piece inward aimed at him like skewers, skilfully throttling through the currents of the air with the seeming intention of crushing into his infirm body. Instinctively, Chris rose up his hands in self-defence, arching them over his head while wobbling his legs out in hope that he would find the strength to push the yellow van at his back side towards the wall to get out of the way of the impending stomp, but as one would have easily deduced; such an attempt was to no avail.

Nightwing slammed against the ground with the fullness of his weight, the spattering shards of glass and non-complacent metal barbs being carried away by the wind twirling back in the wake of his quick descant. Chris grudgingly opened his eyes to look through the space of his falling arms to not only find a pot of glass pieces in his lap but also that the teen hero had narrowly dodged stomping upon his lower limbs; knees bent lightly with feet spaced to one between Chris's and the other, his dominant, aimed towards the front of the building prepared to make an impression upon the startled Gene and Ray whom felt their bodies become wobbly and uncontrollable upon this abrupt appearance; how did anyone figure them out?

"Boss?" Chris attempted to cry out through the tears of fear but within the closing of his lips, Nightwing unleashed a harsh blow of his foot against the man's chin, whipping the side of his face against the side of the van leaving him to slump awkwardly, lowering to the ground.

"Just who are you?" Gene called out, trying his hardest to return to the menacing demeanour that characterized him.

"Nightwing," the teen hero responded with a single word, promptly drawing up a boomerang shaped item from the underside of his forearm, twisting it upward to his fingers; a batarang no more than foot in length and flexed into open black wings from a central blue oval shaped component that glistened like a digital light. "Where's the girl?" Nightwing took to the deepest voice he could muster, still weak by any standard but nonetheless unsettling for the figures that had taken an interest, albeit a intrigue defined by their fear.

"I know it," Gene stomped his foot into the ground, "the D.E.O.'s on us already!"

"The D.E.O.?" Nightwing's body slumped a little, batarang filled hand falling back a little from its prepared throwing posture, "what do they have to do with any of this?" The question however would have to go unanswered for a sudden shock spiralled through his body with a simple wrench tight grasp around his lower back, the breadth of the muscular forearms touching upon his stomach with fingers tapping into his sides. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed the clean faced Tyler whom with a sneer raised his head to look to the blue skies overhead, away through the broken window template he had crashed through moments before.

Nightwing was certain that the filtered ion vision in his cowl had not been reinstated, nonetheless the typical form of sight applied to such a filter suddenly engulfed his ocular receptors reverting the colours of this dingy warehouse to blue tonal values that in this peculiar case fluctuated upon a deep purple where the strong waves of small particles, the blue dots from the trails of plasma, had punctured out. The child that he was took over once more, and his hand raised up to the front of his face to rub around through the particles floating around just ahead, the face of Gene and Ray with their scorn filled smiles simply being background images in light of this solid space of joy that was devoid of all sense save for this wonderful sight.

Nightwing was not entirely sure of what was happening, but within the slow daunting seconds of this phasing touch, he felt his organs shift under the weight of gravity, throttling as it were to their lowest reaches as his body was shot upwards beyond the crushed skylight and into the open air a good forty feet above the warehouse roof. In those fluttering moments, he saw below him the path of the particles that the teleportation trail left behind, leading all the way down to the floor from where they had apparently jumped from.

The wrenching tight clasp around his abdomen lost its support suddenly, breaking down the bubble blue force around him exposing him to the world as it was. Without warning the striking sounds of passing cars, horns, people and the crashing of the ocean's waves faltered through his ears at a quickened rate as though the time that had past while in transition to the air by way of teleportation had needed to catch up with him. His legs began to kick back and forth against the air while his hands fluttered away from his body with strengthen tugs at the hair as though hoping he could clasp onto something that would save him; he had entered into a free fall and the distracting noises along with the returning colours did little to help him regain his composition for a proper landing. Of what he was able to make out he made a proper note of: Chris's slumping body had been left to its own sickness on the floor where they last tangled and more importantly, the top of the criminal's yellow van, taking to a sharp turn from their base of operations and up the crust cement ramp that led seamlessly onto the thick tar surface mat of the four lane highway that traversed along the coast line. It was only when he had seen the slate grey body of Tyler clamber along the top of the vehicle to sneak inside the passenger window that he realized he had to think about saving himself and do so quickly.

"Whoa!" Nightwing cried out as the left booster on the sole of his foot finally took charge, protruding from its circular opening to produce a powerful burst of fuel to jostle the flames and send his body throttling forward from the hole in the skylight. His wings had barely enough time to flex from under his arms, providing limited balance as he slammed his right shoulder hard against the small windows of the skylight, forcing the minerals of its composition to take an unfortunate strain to the point of cracking. With nought but a metre away from tipping off the front edge of the building, the boy nimbly aimed his left boot into the roof top, using the lingering boost it provided to pound his body upright which allowed him to perform quite the acrobatic twirl, a somersault of blue and black as he landed down on his stomach side further down the slanted side of the building, upon the solid metal composition away from the smashing up widow seams. "Ah, that hurt," he groaned. He raised his head, circling it around on its neck resulting in some cracking relief. He slipped his hand forward and touched upon the roof while the flappy wings, happily remaining in good condition, retracted back to their storage positions.

"Proxy, the trail at the bank was caused by the teleporters…" Nightwing hurriedly scoffed up as he attempted to raise his body upright which was startling difficult to accomplish. The issue in doing so was startling evident from his awkward sense of balance, a standard capability that had somehow been lost in that teleporting. He pulled back an arm and hung it over top of his head with the inner side of the elbow joint which steadily began slip down his forehead fast, "oh, I'm not feeling well." A glob of something strong felt like it was biting its way all the way up from his stomach to his mouth, a spicy conglomerate of noxious chemicals no doubt; nothing pleasant that he felt like dealing with at the moment, "this stuff is sickening."

The boy's head violently shook from side to side as he finally managed to get up onto all fours. The crushing sounds of his body along the light metals that composed the roof compacted itself within his sickness as he wobbled around to get back upright, "I'm going to get into pursuit," he let out an agonizing groan as he awkwardly worked his feet to abrupt turnaround to face down the length of the highway. His upper body however had much difficulty following suit, his stomach being a strange half turned placement. He somehow felt overweight in that moment instantly invoking images of his orange tabby cat that would from time to time sit so that its front body was angled at a ninety degree angle to his hind legs; the illusion being covered by its excessive fluffy weight.

The back end of the criminals van had shrunk down to the size of his palm by the time he had steadied himself and was quickly making his strides along the top of the building in pursuit. The road ahead was quite straight which brought forth a change in real-estate, especially along the coast line which had become beach front property upon the disappearance of the wave defending fence, granted though there was quite the bulge of the golden sandy shores leading outward from the coast line of the warehouse and boating district; though it was not difficult to discern that this kind of natural beauty was still had a strong human presence in its creation. The buildings along this coast spiralled upward suddenly from the passing two to four story storage facilities, climbing upwards of a skyscrapers height though with a much more fashionable material embedded in its design, opting away from the glass and steel of the inner city though not too much that they became outright distinct from one another. For the most part these buildings had an outer stone layer painted in a fading peach or a reclining white that heavenly embraced the glow of the sun and blended wholesomely with the sand below while along the cumbersome balconies existed a rare form of coloured teal glass that matched the power of the attractive ocean waves; it would be quite the pleasant place to live as the highway still served to segregate its atmosphere from the rest of the city but it would be false to call it one without perfection, especially when considering the oft criminal activities that took place in the neighbouring region.

"I'm on them," Nightwing notified his command. He was in a full flight mode; hands extended outward with the support of his coloured wings with the fuelled light of his boots at full strength. At the highway level there were few cars to make much conflict with the speeding criminals which further grew unfortunate for their pursuer when they managed to cross through at least two corner stops where the lights had magically maintained a green in its signal for them to continue onward as though the road was fashioned to their existence. For a brief moment, he had found himself distracted by his own image, the wavy patterns of his 'chiselled' body in the wavy array that the glass windows of the inner side buildings created. It was such an admirable thing, watching his body fluctuate in size and tone as the closing sun glistened off the glassy stretch, but the gawking face of a bald faced wide eye little man in one of the business windows finally brought him to his senses, and just in time also for something quite strange had evolved at the next intersection the van was heading into. "Come on lady move!" Nightwing shouted out to himself, working from his kite distant height away to lower upon the wayward vehicle which was now quite hesitant in what it was to be doing; risk the crash into the feminine form ahead or slow to a complete stop and turn their focus back against the hero whom had caught on their trail. Time had taken an unfortunate halt in its manoeuvring, cars at either end of the intersection whistled and squeaked as the strength of their tires gave way to the soft paddled cement of the road; though the lights made the order for their movements, the drivers had no intention of moving, stunted as it were by the occurrence at the dead centre of the crossing sections of highway.

"No!" Nightwing leaned into a horrifying scream upon learning of the criminal's unfortunate decision to crash up to murderers. He narrowed his arms to his side as much as possible, forcing all the strength that he could against the power of his dropping velocity that had gathered up in his wings, all in an effort to make it to the front of the vehicle before collision but it would not take much to realize this was a failing effort, effectively admitting to himself that death was to make itself known in front of his eyes.

In the final seconds, the cretins that were Gene, Tyler and Ray lost the confidence in their final decision. Their eyes grew wide while their jaws dropped in shock, the proverbial deer in the headlights save they were very much on the other end of the ordeal. The figure ahead suddenly blew up in aura of energy, flipping from the familiar plasma blue they had become so familiar with before hardening into a deep purple with the little bubbles of energy fluttering away from around her form; the two upper appendages, arms, of this woman suddenly slapped together and nestled itself rather abruptly at the centre of the van's front, not once flinching from the massive shock force of plasma its seemed to channel through its long limbs on an injection course. The paint job of the front in its thick coat suddenly slipped away into shard, fluttering away to the currents of the air as the fine plated metal that made this van so formidable rapidly indented upon itself shearing the heavy-duty tinted windshield which splintered almost immediately. The tires unleashed one last push forward near producing an intense screeching from its rubber for nought but three seconds before calling it quits. With the engine dead, the front totalled and the tires burnt to blend in with the tar of the highway, the criminals would be forced to find transportation in a different format from here on out.

The woman whom had so boldly stepped forward to the centre of the busy street and smashed upon the front of the van with an impeccably passionate force was immediately recognizable by Nightwing; primarily of course on account of her rather touching grey skin pigmentation. Her hair was a vibrant black, taken up of course in the curls that fluctuated in large doses around her ears with a slight parting curvature from her forehead; she wore it short, but more upon perception since the curled threads when pulled straight probably reached the length of her shoulders. Her face was round and close to perfection thereby achieving near chrome like appearance. It was only her eyes and lips that held traces of colour, a slate blue that easily contrasted with the tasting greys of her whole. Despite her well-toned physique, her suit was rather brash with its blackened display, a full body piece that entangled to the ends of her limbs and up her neck, touching along her jaw line; a tight cat-suit that did not ever fail in its grasping of her form. The only abstractions to the suit were what layered upon it; to her forearms were clasped silver coated bracelets that were near a foot long in their reach and were quite entrenched around the edge of her wrist. Her hands glowed with an unusual bruise coloured aura, sharpening out from there with this calm growing flame that distilled higher and higher above her head as her eyes narrowed down upon the crushed vehicle and its occupants staring back at her in fear; her name was Toni Monetti, but to those who looked upon her today, she went by the moniker Argent and she was rightfully filled with a justice fuelled anger.

Sitting at the centre of the orange plastic like bench within the van's cab space was Ray and things weren't looking to go for him. The indentation from the impact forced the metal back upon the tops of his knees, wrapping around his lower body and inflicting enough pain to cause his wincing and agonizing jostling as he attempted to pry himself free of this fate. When the time for hesitation had elapses the remaining criminals Gene and Tyler worked their hands around the handles of their doors almost simultaneously with one another but as could be expected from the impact, the winches to work the door at its angle became impassable forcing them to resort to their most cunning use of technology: teleportation. The circular bubble tops at the centre of their chest suddenly blistered up in the baby blue that broke free of restraint and surrounded the entirety of their bodies, whipping them away from the burning furnace that their van had become.

"Argent?" Nightwing called out with a puzzling tinge to his voice. The bat-boy pulled up his arms momentarily to give him some crashing wind fall back that enabled him to fall down to the top of the van with relative ease, slamming down to the metal with his right hand ready to clasp the front facing ledge of the van's back space; needless to say, he was quite relieved.

"You're the new Nightwing?" Argents voice sounded furious, but nonetheless she looked up to Nightwing with a concerned stare as the illustrious plasma energy around her eyes began to tire down revealing the wholeness of her individual fingers.

"I guess," Nightwing scoffed in some hesitation as he assumed an upright standing posture. "Is there anything I can do to help here?" his eyes widened up with a small hunch of shoulders, now more than ever aware of his uncertainty in dealing with someone acclaimed for their impressive power control.

Argent let out a heavy sigh, a deep rush of air that seemed to reduce all the pent of pressure she had carried with her the moment she arrived. Instantly her head shot up and began to look out from side to side, looking quite intrigued as though she had caught onto something that Nightwing was not quite in loop with. "If you want to help," she started up as she had finalized her position on the interesting phenomena bending around her, "get her out of that contraption." Instantly the molecules of plasma began to reform a human figure at either side of her. Tyler was there, hands poised above his shoulder ready to grab while the one they called the Gov stood at the opposing side looking at her with quite the stare of contempt. "I'll handle these two," She sneered at Nightwing one last time before turning her attention to the crooks.

"This is who you called?" Nightwing questioned Proxy as he rapidly turned to stomp along the roof of the van to get to his destined location. Soon he was at the edge where he blended his rampant running into a fine jump while twirling his front side to face the door of the back of van. Slapping his hand upon the vertical hanging gold plate hand, he pulled with as much strength as he could muster, going on till he could feel the lock pick snap giving way to the effects of the hinges, this big back encompassing door twisting outward and away to his side.

"If there is anyone who knows about plasma it's her."

"She seems really involved," Nightwing commented.

"I didn't even have to tell her much, the minute I mentioned 'plasma' she hopped on board."

Nightwing was quite surprised by the strange girl kneeling in back of the cold van. She couldn't have been more than twelve years-old, much too young to get tied up with criminals such as these without having a particular attachment, though judgment of her state still stood clear; she was held against her will. Her large oval child-like eyes blossomed with their crisp blue as the light from the outdoors had finally fallen upon her, hopefully to reveal her hero though she found herself strangely disappointed when she saw the black clad boy just stand there looking at her with puzzling wide eyes of his own. The interior of the van's back was quite spacious despite what claims its exterior had made of it and quite grey in contrast to its outward yellow touch. Along the sides were benches just wide enough to squeeze a seat, reaching to the very back where a solid piece separated the back from the forward cab. But as such, the space at its centre was wide enough to fit a strange contraption that kept the girl in her powerless state, or perhaps in a state where her powers could best be utilized. She was on her knees, forced as a result of a bolted silvery metal shell that covered the entirety of her lower legs and feet. Her hands hung out like a scarecrow's, hung at right angled while the girth of her upper arms was well placed upon a horizontal support beam, strapped to her by four separate brown straps thereby looking like quite the cross layout. Around her body were eight prongs, four to each side, which were rib like in their shape but nonetheless holding the same size all the way down to her waist line thereby keeping her upright and tightly bound to a hideous box like device that fitted on to her back side like a back-pack. A small tubular wire ran out from its top of the pack and connected to the top of bowl like structure that topped her small head. The exterior of the pack was emanating this vibrant strange purple energy as though its silvery exterior was being overtaken with a semi-plaster paint. It was crudely put together, but at the very least made an impact for it was indeed working at full condition.

The girl herself had straight black hair, long as it was when venturing out from the bowl on her head, though mostly being regulate out to her sides where it wrapped along her shoulders in their curls. Her eyes were of a delicate blue hue and not completely overtaken with the glossy tears that trained their way down her soft cheeks. Her full black body suit, one that stripped away at her wrist line but continued as so to her feet forming seamlessly connected boots, was quite frizzled in that it seemed to be quite stretched in many areas, falling flatly away from her body while various patches appeared to be scuffed up from intense friction based reactions. Of all her traits though, the most interesting to Nightwing was her skin; a rustic grey pigmentation that flowed throughout her body quite evenly; it was noteworthy in the sense that it quite rightly affirmed her identity; if the appearance of her mother was not easily enough to quantify it as so. She was too young to understand what was going on around her, but she knew from his appearance, that bat like shape, that this boy was here to rescue her though she still held some reservations.

"Come on, I got to get you out of here," Nightwing propped his foot into the van space and followed through with the rest of his body, reaching towards the girl with a reassuring attitude. He instantly reached for the leather bound brown strap around her arms and worked his fingers to slip the long end of the line through the squared metal pieces, pulling them loose enough to get her frail arms down from a position they had held for so long. "What is this thing on your back?" he puzzled as he ventured through the final strap, catching his eye upon the deceptive glow of the pack she carried upon her shoulder.

"No don't!" she shrieked just as Nightwing leaned in over top of her shoulder to tap upon the pack. To say the least, the pack was quite sensitive in who came in contact with it and at that moment he felt the most unusual snaps of electrical charge that made his hand feel like it had every funny bone in existence.

"What is it?" Nightwing retracted his hand, pulling his other hand to clasp around the numbing wrist. He fell back on his knees somewhat pulling away from the nearly free girl.

"I don't know!" she cried.

"You think you can run away from me!" Argent shouted, "I can see where you're moving," she continued her snapping tone. The collar of Gene's jacket had been cuffed up by the clenching fists of the power girl. Gene's mouth fell open as the regulations of his breath piqued up in speed with his eyes becoming bloodshot; he should have just left as soon as he could. "You think you could have kept her from me? How did you get her?" She continued to berate the poor man under her might, exemplifying her build that was just that much taller and finer than this small minded man could ever have been even in his prime. But then his ace in the hole was prepped to make the save, Tyler had stealthily made his approach at Argent's backside, ready to clasp and teleport the plasma wielder a hefty distance in the air to leave her to the deathly forces of gravity as he had done Nightwing moments earlier; however something was not quite right. He hadn't seen it but he had certainly felt it; within three paces of clasping his vice like arms around Argent's stomach, a swift and heavily fortified kick levelled into his chest just below the rib cage depriving him of his much needed oxygen as he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. On his knees and coughing more coarsely than he had ever done so in his life, he was in no longer fit to keep up the fight.

"Tish, I thought I told you to stay home," Argent snapped back over her shoulder. Blindly she arched her knee up into Gene's chest, taking it up past the rib cage as it was with Tyler to deprive this foolish man of his ability to breath for a short time.

"She's my sister," Tish hurriedly responded, "I could be some help." Tish was a full two heads smaller than her mother despite being some reaching her early twenties though she made for this by being just a slight bit more rounder with a physical immensity. Like her mother however, her hair was a flush of ink like black though quite straight in its long reach beyond the cusps of her shoulder while her eyes and lips glistened a strong metallic blue to contrast against the rather rustic grey of her body that was very much like that of her younger sister. Her skin tight body suit was much brighter though not by much; the length of her arms and upper body was of a pure ivory white while her leggings and mid-section was of the formal black worn by that of the rest of her family; a triangular point from her abdomen to the centre of her lower chest being the dividing line between the light and darkness.

"Help Nightwing get Martha free," Argent looked back to her foe, snapping her leg down against the Gov's foot, bending it awkwardly from the ankle joint.

"Tish!" Martha's high-pitched thrill bounced along the rungs of the van as it became apparent that her older sister had reached the back of the van and was ready to pounce in a make herself useful.

"I can't get this pack off of her," Nightwing slammed his back against the side wall of the van allowing for the older girl to crawl along the centre space to reach her younger sister whom was still having quite the difficulty in pulling her legs out from under the shell of silvery steel that sat overtop of them, "it's overheating or something."

"Tyler!" Gene screamed out from his pinned position under the knees of Argent. He looked out from her side to his colleague slowing regain his stature, "I could use your help here!"

"It's not working," Tyler cried with a steady cough as he pressed his hand around the bubble that propped out from the centre of his chest. "I feel like my heads exploding," the man's clasping arms steadily reached up to his head pulling together that strong grip as though keeping his shattering brain under control. He was beginning to feel the sickness.

Tish placed herself centre of her sister and locked both their blue eyes into one another with a reassuring nod. She reached her hands to the top of the young girl's shoulders and levitated her hands forward to the pack. Nightwing watched with absolute fascination as Tish lightly closer he eyes and straightened her back as best she could before following into a deep inhalation; she appeared to be scanning something, checking out something of interest that only she could rightfully find out about. "How are you doing this?" Nightwing questioned as she saw the soft grey hands of Tish breaking through the aura of purple energy around the pack and touch upon its solid flat top.

"It's going to explode," Tish turned to Nightwing suddenly with wide eyes, speaking passionately with hushed tones.

"Ahhgg," Nightwing said through clenched teeth as his eyes felt compelled to close tightly, "I hate it when people say that." Tish's hands began to slide downward of the top towards the sides, working their way to the joints that kept the ribs in place; the tightening grip that ensured the girl would always be trapped to the would be exploding energy emitting back-pack. Her eyes shut once more with the deep inhalation following quite soon after. Venturing down, she seemed to tap her fingers on several occasions, matching the joints of the prongs which clamped around the girls torso forcing them to release their control, losing their crushing strength like magic. "What are we going to do about you know…" Nightwing pointed to the rectangular body pack that fell to the top of the silvery metal leg shell, "that? Can it be defused?"

"No," Tish reached her hands around her young sister, pulling free her legs from under the metal shell storage. Martha reached her neck up onto Tish's shoulder opposing Nightwing's side, clasping to her body with all her limbs. "It could level a city block…we need to get it somewhere safe as soon as possible."

"Well that can't be hard," Nightwing responded with some evident sarcastic flare.

"Mom!" Tish called out.

"No," Martha pulled back away from her sister, "please!" she pleaded gaining a bit of intrigue from the bat-boy nearby.

"Not now Martha," Tish reaffirmed her with a hush.

"What is it?" Argent made her sudden appearance outside the back of van startling Nightwing whom had suddenly clung his back tightly against the wall of the van and slumped down to the bench. Tish put the petrified Martha down on the bench, sitting side by side with Nightwing now as Tish quickly bracketed her hands around the top of the juicy energy back-pack, pulling away from its entanglement on the van floor and giving it some hefty strength in a toss towards the back van door.

"Get rid of it," Tish called out, "it's going to explode!"

"Ah," Nightwing peaked up with a wide open smile, propped open along with a wide glare, "she's going to throw it into the ocean isn't she?" Martha just glared back at him with a nonconformist stare as she sat down on the bench side opposing him whilst Argent had successfully gotten hold of the pack and was already well on her way to getting its explosive aftermath to a safe location. "Come on," Nightwing jolted with excitement as he prepped himself dive along the centre space of the van to get outside, "I've got a go see this," but just before he could make himself sparse, a small light crunching hand had reached around his shoulder top and tugged upon it, drawing his attention almost immediately.

"No," Martha weakly called out, "you can't leave me, you have to help!"

"But," Nightwing swivelled his head around and looked at the poor girl with a puzzling stare, "we've saved you, the guys who kidnapped have been dealt with," he stammered through with much difficulty as the girl's eyes began to swell up with tears, her blue irises becoming accentuated with sadness.

"No you have to keep me away from her," Martha waved out her hand to point at the van's inner wall facing the ocean.

"Argent?" Nightwing prodded, though this quickly shook down with the sway of his head from side to side, "your mom? But she's the one who saved you?" he trailed off with uncertainty tipping at the edge of his lips.

"Not now," Tish snapped in, "this is a family matter."

"But if I don't talk to him," Martha blubbered to her sister, "then who can I talk to?" she pleaded with a turn back to Nightwing, "she left me with these horrible people…" she shook her head in despair, arching her neck to bring her face to face with the floor, "and then they…the D.E.O….they hurt me so much," her tears became stronger as the passion behind her voice spiralled out of control, "my mother left me, abandoned me." The final words sunk deeply into Nightwing who let out a few short breaths as he fell back against his seat, gulping briefly as he turned to silence; the excitement had been drained of him a span of seconds.

"You don't understand Martha," Tish sought out her sister, reaching a hand along her shoulder to comfort over her head, "you needed help…there was nothing she could have done for you on her own, she needed help," she tipped off with concern.

"Why couldn't she help me?" Martha continued.

"Her abilities manifested at a young age," Tish looked up to Nightwing, unaware of the boys state of shock and lack of comprehension, "she often fell victim to her own teleportation, disappearing in the night and reappearing in different cities and countries…we became concerned when she wasn't able to control her jumping and sought out help…she's just so powerful. We were unsure of the extent of her powers."

"I don't have powers," Martha rose her head with anger; "I don't!" she looked to her older sister with a tempered face characterized in a buttoned lip, slanted eyes and flaring nostrils.

"I don't have any powers…" Nightwing sharply stated under a monotone, hesitant to look at the two siblings as the blankness of the van's interior somehow provided him some comfort.

"Pardon?" Martha looked to black and blue covered boy with confusion, arms still gracing her sister.

"My mother abandoned me," Nightwing slipped into a silent realm. In the background an explosion could be heard…it was distant and yet still had enough power to make its presence felt throughout the coastal area; Argent had tossed the exploding pack out into the ocean just as he had imagined she would.

* * *

Cassie slipped around the kitchen opening leading into the small corridor directed to the front entrance of the apartment, she was home again and this time waiting for Todd to arrive home from his nightly activities; she kept a small sigh of relief to herself when she saw the boy close the door behind him, back in his civilian white long-sleeved shirt and gracing black vest as he stepped towards her with a bounce in his brow.

With the flat lighting panels at a moderate gear, the light blue tonal value of the walls became startling clear, breaking down to only a darker matter at the trims before contrasting with the white carpeted floor and chalk-like panel ceiling. The first entrance way to Todd left was operationally open at all times, leading into the quaint family room where Cassie entertained her guests, between this room though and the closed personal office room two metres away was a curving desk like structure that panned out from the wall maintain a well wooden varnished composition. It was the items upon the table's top that had struck him interest; pictures in their various chrome and gold coloured frames, depicting pictures of Cassie throughout her life, mostly with her mother Helena but on occasion with that of his Aunt Diana and her sister, a sight he shunned at a near instant.

"How was your gallivanting?" Cassie crossed her arms as she casually leaned against the inner space of the entrance leading into the kitchen.

"It was very schway as usual," Todd smile went crooked as he found his paces to be out of balance with one another. "Got to team-up with Argent," his eyes rolled, "Kinda…met her daughters," he lowered his voice followed by a heavy gulp as he passed by the picture filled desk. He came to a resounding stop about four strides away from Cassie and slapped his hands to his waist, letting loose a sigh as their line of vision crossed into one another.

"You don't look like you enjoyed it," Cassie prodded.

"Well," Todd hummed as his hands went limp. His voice became hardened while his head bowed down as though he was hiding a lost shame, "I guess it was a little less than I expected."

"I got to talking to Mr. Wayne," Todd's head piqued up as Cassie's words hit him like a hammer, "I've got to perfectly honest with Todd, I'm concerned about your health."

"My health?" Todd wavered, "I'm fine," his hands flowed out to his sides giving full view to his form which was in excellent condition in so far as he could tell.

"No," Cassie scoffed with a chuckle, "your mental health…" she stepped forward a single step with a concerned nod of her head, "I have to admit that I've been trying to pick apart your life behind your back, I suppose I was selfish cause I would hate myself if you didn't like me that much, that I just wasn't able to match the respect that you had for Dick."

"No, Cassie, it has nothing to do with that, I like you fine," Todd interjected.

"Before I talked to Wayne, I thought maybe something had happened with him that convinced you to be the way you are and perhaps that happy façade that you have was something you picked up from Dick," Cassie continued, "but this goes way back, to before you were Nightwing, or even before you had even met Wayne." She took a brief pause, allowing herself the opportunity to look upon the boy and his slumping demeanour, "What I want to know is why this is all crashing down on you now? You were so happy the day we met and in a month you've become so stubbornly grim."

"I wasn't completely honest with you earlier," Todd's eyes wavered up to hers while his fingers came to lace into each at the centre of his stomach. His ocean blue eyes were beginning to round into hardened spheres as his jet black hair was beginning to lose its vibrant nature, "I agree with the never ending war against evil, but not for the same reasons that Wayne does…you said that your generation was all about seeing the end of the hostilities, but to me, that just doesn't seem fun," he stammered, "I don't see Mr. Wayne being particularly happy, he was just so alone, all the time," he shook his head, "I don't want that life, for me the excitement was this ongoing story where I was always going to be the hero."

"Something's changed though hasn't it?"

"See there was this world," Todd hastily continued, "It was away from all of this…and on this world I was always going to be the people's hero, I thought that as long as I was there then the story could continue and I would have the best time of my life…" his shoulders angled lowly from his neck, "but then I had to give that up [YJB#6-7]," he paused for a long stare at Cassie, "I realized that it had to end at some point because I wasn't always going to be there for them, I couldn't be that hero all the time and if I stayed then they never would have been able to work out all their problems on their own; the story there had been finished and there was no need for a hero like me …."

"What's wrong with here though? This world?" Cassie chimed in with puzzlement, "why can't you just be that hero here? There's so much good that you can do here, in this world. Your story hasn't finished yet, not here. Just look at the people around you, your family and your teammates, you don't even have to go it alone…you don't have to be like Wayne."

"No Cassie," Todd waved out his hand in a negative fashion, raised as though telling her to stop doing something, "I don't want to be a part of any family. I don't need be involved with anyone, I've got my mission to fight crime and I'm sticking to it even at the sacrifice of the things you love so dearly. It just doesn't work for me."

"Todd, I don't believe you," Cassie shook her head in disappointment, "does this have something to do with the Dick and Kory?" In his eyes though, Cassie could tell that Todd was unwilling to step much further, but she knew it was affecting him, "Todd it's not your fault they split up."

"I know," Todd gulped, "that's all that I've been trying to tell myself, but maybe if he had spent less time with me, than maybe he could have worked things out better, I don't know," he lashed out, "I felt like I was being a burden…it was the closest thing I had ever had to a family and it was falling apart all around me. Mar'i was so hurt." He took a heavy lingering breath, "I wasn't going to be hurt again, so I just ran."

"What happened though Todd?" Cassie prodded, "before Dick, you've got to tell me; what is this problem you have with seeing your mother?" Todd's head suddenly arched back down to look at the floor, "She's the greatest friend I've ever known, a hero with no equal match…I'm sure if I just call her then she'll definitely want to see you. You're a part of her as she is a part of you, it's a blood bond that cannot be broken…you've just got to open yourself up. I know it's a little more difficult with the amazons, but you can still be a big part of us, in this world."

"Cassie," Todd's voice grew level as his head rose slightly to peel his eyes upwards to her, "did you ever see me when I was a child?" Cassie face winced with a strange puzzlement, "surely you must have been there when I was born, she is your loving sister after all," but Cassie was unable to give him a response, just idly stand there with a distilled shock in her eyes, "maybe a picture of my childhood? No? How about all those family get togethers? Was I out there playing with Lara and the other children?"

"Todd, she didn't know that you were alive," Cassie contended with a heavy heart.

"She lied," Todd snapped, tossing out his arms in the process of making himself more open, "can't you see that she's been lying to everyone? Don't you think I would have been OK with being left behind if she didn't know? She knew…" his voice grew to a whisper.

"I don't think it was like that…" Cassie trailed off as she came to recognize the sincerity in the boy's crass voice.

"I was ten years old," Todd accentuated. "She left me on a park bench with a bunch of Batman stories, I read every single one. She promised that she would be back to pick me up," he smiled oddly, "she never returned. Now I come to this universe where all the stories are real and I learn that my mother is not only fine but that's she's also from here? That she's always been here doing things I could only dream of and she never told me anything?" Todd took one final gulp as he found his vision panning down from Cassie's face, "this is the sister you admire so much, this pure loving, kind and ambitious woman who wouldn't be held back by her only child." Todd took to a slumping walk, passing along the floor to come on par with Cassie intent on making it up the small flight of stairs to her right side that led to his room at the end of the hall, "I don't like…no, I hate your family. Your the only one that hasn't made me someone elses responsibility," his foot reached up the first step, "I thought that when I came to this world I would be able to start a new life with a different outlook, maybe something along the lines of thriving for your ideal society where crime and villainy is a state of the past, but I guess I just wasn't going to get what I wanted. Not with her being here anyway." He paused at the top, looking down the darkened corridor as it narrowed towards the end, "and yeah I tried calling her too, I tried every day for the first six months I was here…she never answered."


	26. Iota 7 Part 2

Iota #7  
Volume 1. Story 5.  
The Light of the World has Been Taken (Part 2)

* * *

A daunting figure stood at the opening leading into the living room of Kyle and Deryck's townhouse. He was a tall person though carried quite the slump in his posture on account of the viscous beating he appeared to have taken. His long face and curvy chin modelled a strange tint of blue, bruised, especially around his rather oblique cheek points which looked painful when moved. The long black hairs that graced his head were thick with moisture, mixtures of sweat and blood, and curling out in to split ends along his sides. Tightly wrapped around his shoulders and sides was a light brown long coat, but the defence of such encompassing item failed to prevent view of the eggplant purple jumpsuit underneath which told the story; he was an escaped convict. Despite his down trodden state, he was however quite livid with excitement over the puzzling entities, one of which a former friend of his, in the house he invaded.

"Razzi?" Iota's voice bolstered up from a coarse whisper at the ending syllable, he likewise being surprised by the appearance of a former colleague from his days committing petty thievery and escaping hard-to-get-out-of-places. It was quite unfortunate for the teen lantern that his former friend had arrived at this time, the spacious flush paint green living room had been shredded from a tight a brawl that happened less than a half hour earlier, pitting Kyle Rayner, his current caretaker, against a bunch of a hired thugs from a mid-level gangster named Rotund who just so happened to be a good friend of Razzi's back in the day when he was Iota's age. The heavy varnished brown wooden panels that comprised the floor were scuffed up with black marks from flexing boot marks, worse yet; there were a low variable amount of evenly sized holes that had punctured within, caused of course by high powered taser guns, the standard norm of street people and the proper authorities ever since bullets went out style with the market. Though what had happened in doors was just another day for the people inside, through the darkly tinted large pane window at the front of the living room revealed a rather serene looking neighbourhood, characterized with white painted wooden or black metal arrow pointed fences, the latter of which being the case with their front yard, and moderately high townhouse structures which all blended evenly into one another as a result of their fake plastic brick overlay, a modest attempt to depict an old-fashioned era when such a material was more than a common occurrence. It was mid-afternoon, the sun still out and waiting to bring a close to today's trouble to give way into its more illicit and illegal partner's that populated the night.

Iota was an average sized boy for his age but a little bit more so in his physical strength, having opted to take his exercise quite seriously since it was usually his strength that assisted in breaking free of the restraints that often found their way around him. Though he often though much about using muscle relaxing stimulants to alleviate himself of the pain that often came from dislocating his limbs and reapplying them back in; a skill that he has practiced to an art form, going so far as to being able to name the biological components of his shoulders and other parts that may be victim to his 'pops'. He certainly wouldn't be picking up on any of those drugs soon, not with the way Kyle has been running the show, not that he would need them much if he could get a handle on the power of his Lantern's ring, though… it was the ring that had brought him great misfortune and was open to blame for this evolving situation leaving him to wonder about its actual benefits. He had not been chosen to wear it but upon the death of its original wielder, it sought him out and rather than be detachable as all other rings are, his chose to bond with him both physically and mentally; it was a new kind of ring, one with a heroic will of its own and senses that the average humanoid lacked. Rotund's men had come knocking on Kyle's apartment with the intention of killing him because he was involved with Razzi whom had betrayed Rotund's side of the law. Had he not been bonded to ring, had he not been given into Kyle's care as a result, then they never would have come for anyone for he had no family or close friends to mention of, save for one and his involvement in Razzi led to the death of his family; quite thankfully though, Kyle was more than a match for the three thugs that had come to prevent him from living another day.

His hair was moderately dark, straight as it ran off the ledge of his forehead, running its length over top of a sizable, yet thin, emerald coloured rectangular block that moulded to his face coving his nose and eyes producing a rather milky green sheen in the rectangular shaped eye slots; the only abstractions to its straight edges were four angular piece, two to each side and aiming in opposing directions, the top set being rather diagonally structured as it approached his temples and the bottom set angling inward to flatten upon his upper cheeks. The vibrant dark green of his mask continued throughout his armaments and on occasion being blended out from the otherwise full black body suit beginning with a solid line that approached a sizable distance from his collar bone and lapping overtop creating something of a shoulder patch arrangement. A centimetre thick hexagonal shaped outline was at the centre of his chest and contained within it two white triangular bits that while being hour glass like in simplest terms stretch out within the outline to create the distinctive Lantern of the Corp. The colour continued onward to his thick blocky boots that stopped just short of the knees and similarly flavoured gloves that let his organic fingers roam free. It was a costume of his mental design, though there were traces of outside influences in particular aspects.

"Deryck, my boy," Razzi pulled off a stubborn smile when his bloodied cheeks were ready to dismantle themselves, "this stuff for real? A Lantern?" He reached up his hands in preparation of clasping the young lantern by the shoulder. Razzi was slumping at the centre of the entrance leading into the wide central hallways that ran concurrently with the broad sides of the townhouse. Behind him, to his left, the stairs with their wooden fence pegs leading to the floors and rooms above while to the side at his right, the front of the house, the door, though unseen from their position, was left wide open, sharing the light of the sun which cascaded its powerful energy upon floor, brightening the dark wood panels.

Despite the cumbersome living space, there had been little furnishings provided for neither of the two occupants living there had a very keen eye for that kind of thing, being used to and sometimes enjoying the company that the bare floor provided. What was once there were these ugly green looking chairs with tall squared backsides connected to a rather stunted box for seating with some disquieting thick wooden pegs for support which almost took a bow shape in their movements down from the seat itself; it was quite questionable how they would fit well in any room they were placed, but they were cheap and some room in the house needed to look liveable. The downside however for the chairs, aside from their contrasting eminence, was that for the most part they had been shattered; only one had remained intact after the brawl and it was squeezed nicely into the far back corner of the room opposing the front tinted pane of glass and nearest to the opening leading into the kitchen. At the adjacent corner, on the other side of the kitchen entrance was Kyle sitting on one of the collapse chairs, its long backside tipped to the floor thereby making an adequate object to sit upon and talk with his comrade on the floor. The pieces of all the others had been left to stew throughout the room.

Kyle was something of a strong man himself, able and more or less willing to commit things based upon his own prowess before consulting the Lantern's ring he so evenly displayed on his finger. Unlike Iota, his hair had taken a dive from its once vibrant black image so akin to him in his youth but he nonetheless kept quite the happy façade with those dark green eyes of his. Years as a Lantern in the fabric of space had really taken a toll on his self-conscious, even going so far as to seep into things that originally held little importance to him such as what he wore; the Lantern's black under-armour regularly worn under their uniforms for comfort on account of its tight stretch and soft texture. Sure, he had taken to some admirable dress pants over top and occasion took to wearing a jacket with the various collared shirt, but he was rarely found without this ensemble of comfort he was so used to.

"Yeah, I," Iota stuttered to get out. He rose slowly from his seated position on the floor, turning around to face Razzi as best he could. Kyle's eyes had narrowed down upon the strange person entering their home unannounced, clasping his hands together and leaning forward quite a bit over his knees as the obvious prison based jumpsuit stuck out in his mind as an alarm, but as he knew little of Iota's past life, he thought better of getting himself involved, waiting as it were for his guidance to be called upon instead. "How did you…find me?" Iota took a few steps backwards as he found his breaths to be stifling short and shallow as he got caught up in examining every bruise and cut that disfigured his friend's image.

"Been tailing Rotund's men since he let me go," Razzi commented as he stepped inward of the opening arch to reach inwards of the living space, "knew they'd find you eventually," he looked over to Kyle, seeing that taste of hatred in his eyes, "guess you could say it was his fault for getting yourself here all settled down and such." He scrapped himself by Iota and came to an abrupt stop at the centre of the room with a rotation of his neck, exercising the stiff joints as he turned to face his friend down, leaving passing glances at the diseased holes in the floor and broken rubble that was inadvertently caused by his actions.

"You're not looking so well," Iota stepped into the seldom used mode of concern, "we should probably get you to a hospital."

"I got no time Deryck," Razzi swiftly responded followed with a heart wringing chuckle that turned quite painful upon the sudden gulp of what could quite conceivably be his own blood, spilling out from his twisted internal organs, "I need some help," his last words hit upon sincere modulated through a screen of sadness conveyed in the drop of his upright head to face the floor.

"You expect me to help you?" Iota stammered up to a spitting reaction that weighted itself with a hefty blow of anger, "you followed a bunch of killers to where I live and you waited for them to leave?" his eyes tensed up as he began to feel a cold sweat strangle down the length of his arms; a backlash upon seeing the haphazard grin of Razzi's as his head rose back up revealing the gothic purple stained cracks within his remaining teeth.

"Come on man," Razzi's head leaned in a little, "what do you expect me to do? I got nothing but a wandering eye…" he trailed off from the tempered cool tone the moment Iota slapped his arms against his sides, his current state of mind being less than amused, "you look like you guys could have handled your selves," the grin suddenly bolstered back up as he reached his arm around to the back of his head to pull away at his shredded hairs that had been tangled to tightly to his neck. "This stuff's all real isn't it?" his voice showered in with the first spark of decency, though the concern appeared to be unevenly laced with self-interested goals.

Iota collapsed his fingers of his ring hand against his palm, watching the fist as he rose it up ahead of himself; the ring glowed an impeccable strength, vibrating out from its circular top an intense emerald energy that engulfed his hand in orb like construct, the darker greens of its core fluctuating outward through a milky white that comprised most of its outer mass. The emerald energy of the ring soon surpassed the orb, producing a tight fitting overlapping sheen of energy around the entirety of his body, running up the length of his neck forcing the raising of his chin. Within three seconds of taking on a complete emerald body form, the crisp connection of his uniform disappeared revealing who he truly was: Deryck. He had been keeping to some simple attire very much like his Lantern mentor; a plain black long sleeved shirt and thick quilted pants. His head tipped back down to its normal orientation revealing his light green eyes that teetered upon blue, "I don't know if you care, but Athis's family just got killed because of you."

"He deserved it," Razzi waved it off with a swivel of his head away from Deryck; "he called the cops on us if you can't recall [Iota #1-2]."

"His family Razzi," Deryck leaped in with a plea like tone, "I was there for that…I failed to save them [Iota #6]," he coughed up.

"And since when have you grown up and become heroic?" Razzi arched a brow as he looked back, "thinking that rings going to change who you are? I thoughts you were wanting to be something in what we do…quick creds man. We could be kings now with that kind of power that your packing, just like you always wanted, I just need your help with something man…" he grew quite swollen as the blood gurgled at the back of his tongue, "where you going to be Deryck?" he shook his head with an evident toss into disappointment.

"You weren't there Razzi," Deryck started up, attempting in his movements to catch the attention of Razzi straight on through the force of moisture that welled up under his eye lids, "there was blood everywhere…I couldn't look down, I was frightened. All this power," he rose up his fist once more, catching the glow of the ring at the corner of his eye, "and I was so frightened. I saw Athis man…he was only trying to do what was right."

"I was in prison because of that twip," Razzi violent threw out his hands with a stomp of his foot, boiling outrage seeping into the fabric of his mind, cooling the pain of his body, "well no that's not true," he slipped into a sarcastic snarl, "you just couldn't pull the plug on Rotund, not even to save yourself…now you get to hold out with yours special hero friends with that power ring."

"I'm no killer Razzi," Deryck bluntly stated at near instant of Razzi's last word. After a few heavy breaths that eclipsed into silence, he looked to Kyle, the man whom had begrudgingly taken him in. Moments before he was convinced Kyle hated him because of his history, because of who he was as Razzi saw him but then the man admitted the truth to him, that he saw within him who he was when he had first received the ring; confused and distressed over what it meant and why things had only gotten worse since, but he held on and took on his role because he knew he could do something good with it, he just needed some direction in where to put it. And that was the look that Deryck saw in him; Kyle was certain of himself once more, stronger than he had ever been in a long time, "things have changed in my life now…."

"Come on," Razzi pleaded with blubbering lips, "all that power man, let's use it to get what we want. We can go somewhere else, start up again…let's take the battle to Rotund and string him up, be done with him for all time."

"I don't want any part of it," Deryck cut in.

"He's going to kill me if I don't do what he wants," Razzi grew distressed, "you going to let your new heroic conscience deal with that?"

"I know I'm just learning how to cope with all this," Deryck started up with a more empowering voice as he sought to strike down the distaste his former colleague holds for the sanctity of life, "but consider this some leniency," he stepped aside from his blocking path at the centre of the living room entrance way leading into the central hallway where the open door awaited Razzi's presence through it, "I know what you do and your no different from Rotund…if you're not smart enough to turn yourself in then you can suffer the fate that you created for yourself."

"I won't turn myself in…" Razzi scoffed.

"Bye Razzi," Deryck affirmed with a wave of his hand towards the front door, just keeping it up there straight like a branch as the poor excuse of a person trudged along the floor with a snapping angry look to his face; even through the blue tinted bruises and red splashing cuts that gutted his face of its image, the boiling red underneath it all was quite clear.

"You know, if I get through this, I'm coming back to get you once I'm back on top," Razzi sneered as he graced Deryck's eyes one last time.

Deryck nodded, "I know."

* * *

"Do you think this guy of yours will really find the chip the Queen is looking for?" A brutish man stepped forward with a question that was intricately connected and shared among his colleagues. He was a tall figure with broad shoulders, a mountain of muscle that continued on to his face which was rather scruffy with a two day old black beard and lacy bedhead calibre hair. His eyes were cold, dark and distant but the raising of thick hairy brows showed some puzzlement he was not to fond of. He had taken to wearing a bit of long coat, one that continued onward of his waist and past by his thighs to reach the cusps of his knee caps; with the sleek black fabric, the continuation into his pants and well-worn boots of a similar shade appeared rather seamless. This was a particularly shared uniform going throughout his two colleagues, worn for the sake of anonymity among their ranks as well as for the tear and wear that this robust thick gear provided. They were hired killers returning to their base camp after completing their job.

"We got ourselves busted by a Lantern," One of the men, seated in a red cushioned swivel chair called out. He appeared to be in quite a bit of pain, legs straight and narrowly laid out the full distance ahead of him at an angle aimed to floor while his hands crept up to the side of his clean face, running his fingers through the light orange hair upon his head. He was somewhat of a weaker looking man than his other colleagues, but his slim muscular appearance played him out to be quite the fast runner and disquieted shooter, using wit and strategy over the occasional thump of the fist, "I want more…" he rang out with disgust, "Cameroon didn't say we'd be handling your short sighted 'revenge' for you," he crumbled into a lowly hushed complaint.

The last member of this group was a rather quiet one and wore a slightly different variation to the long coat, opting for a set of eight buttons lined down the front of his body in pairs, very much unlike his criminal cohorts who wore the standard metallic snap clamps that habitually connected with a simple pull together to create a rather blended appearance. He was different in that his eyes were rather open, large and displaying the crystalized hues of his flushing green irises. His face was rather plump with the longevity of flesh from his childhood being retained to slump out to his sides and sag down to his chin line. With a short trimmed blond hair and a gently forming smile, he appeared halfway decent despite what job he took up for a living. "We going to find this thing on our own or do you really need us to kill some civvies and wait on these connections of yours?" the redheaded gangster further complained drawing the ire of their current employer.

"I'm not expecting nothing from this one," a steely voice entered into the conversational realm, gracefully stepping in as the one with the answers, "I'm a nice guy," a flare of misjudged sarcasm slipped in upon the simple statement of fact, "Razzi's not stupid. He'll have figured out he's got no hope by now and start putting his life in order…gave him an extra day than I'm used to giving. Three days to find some solace for the worthless life he's lived and say goodbye to anyone he's ever loved, then I'll take him out back and beat him to death," he finished off with a reverberating sneers and clenching of fists that caught the attention of the three killers. He was a tall fellow, on par with the first questioner though more so leaner in his physicality and much less rugged looking. His eyes were shapely dark ovals with a point tipping nose nestled in between, all of which were upon a rather narrowing facial orientation; an oval that had been stretched out from the bottom and top ends. Though he wore a wide brim dark blue circular hat upon his head it was not difficult to see the bandages that were clouding his upper forehead and around his back, bracing for an unfortunate injury that Razzi had given him [Iota #1]. Aside from his hat, the sharing of the dark anonymous wear with his hired help ended for his trench coat was a much lighter brown that was additionally rather bulky by comparison to the sleek design of the others. "He may have smashed my head in with a crowbar, but we used to work together. Everyone's got a show in life they need to perform, once the story ends you better be more than just dead before the epilogue."

"Awful philosophy there Rotund," the black haired brute commented with a turn to face the boss as he passed by.

"You're a hired killer," Rotund swiftly responded with a pause to sneer to look at the muscle head, "what do you care about the philosophy of life? Shows over once you've taken it."

The four of them were in a rather damp warehouse structure that appeared to more to be an aeroplane hangar on account of its three story height, wide encompassing squared space and bleak atmosphere on account of the construction materials being little more than sheet metal; torn up piece of rather dim shades of grey scrapped together with an assortment of bolts and welded clamps. Around the square perimeter of the building, just underneath the flat ceiling, were square foot windows that opened to the outdoor world, taking in the sun light that was forced upon the cold cement from rather strange angles as a result of the wide metre spacing from slot to slot. The meagre lighting this provided, oblique mostly to one side as a result of the position of the sun, did not reach them since the four of them were close in tight to one of the corners, noted for its placement under the single room situated above at about near half way past the second floor cut off. It was a hefty square outcrop for the cornering wall, supported by several thin rusty looking beams that were bolted into the cement of the ground and spanned upwards into a more moulded weld of the black painted base plate that was the room's floor. At one side of the room, and running in connection with the wall, was a grated metal bridge like piece, a catwalk that continued about halfway along the side of the warehouse before cutting off into similarly styled stairwell.

Their corner area was quite bare but nonetheless perfect for their liking with four low intensity bulbs at every corner of the room's base plate providing the oomph that the sun failed at. The chair was parked in the corner with its slumping occupant, the quieter baby faced gangster standing just at his side; the two of them appeared to be watching a thin sliced television screen that was no bigger than two feet wide, perfectly suited for the five foot high steel trolley cart that it sat upon. A notable contrast to the otherwise grey was a double sized brown door, the kind that found its sliding to one side being pulled by a set of circular cogs with jutting edges that flexed within a connection chain much like that of a bicycle. The other killer of the three, the muscular brutish fellow with a questioning philosophic straight face, stood with his back nearly against the outer peg under the room above while Rotund was stepping by him on a straight line that crossed him against the television's trolley and headed on a near collision course with the door.

"We have our own leads to follow," Rotund scowled as he came to a resounding stop just three feet short of knocking his body against the large door. The tips of his fingers curled back to touch the edge of his palms in a gorilla like fashion as he hunched his shoulder's as best he could, sharing his displeasure to his men merely through his awkward brooding posture. "We've just got to sift through the all this crap information that keeps falling our way…."

"Man, I've been through two bosses over this same old computer junk with the Queen moving in," The fiery haired killer continued to bark his complaints, his hands still holding heavily to his head on account of the pain that was quite the reoccurring nightmare, pulsating thick globules from the lobes of the brain that puffed out to his temples; in the brief fight with the so called Lantern, he had taken the largest beating. "Cameroon just been the latest in the long line of dead runners, she keeps killing them all….I don't want to be a part of that group that brings her one more wrong chip. These leads of yours better be good!"

"Cameroon wouldn't steer us wrong," The scruffy man stated through with a real sense of sincerity in his voice, "I served some time with him."

"Screw your head on there," The hands dropped to his side as he responded with a more intensity added onto his barking voice, arching his knees inward so his black would leave its cling to the red cushion of the chair to take a narrow look at the man across the way at the side of the blue glowing television screen, "After two peeps got the axe, you don't think Cameroon's not playing wise?" he leaned off into a short holding pause, allowing for the rhetorical question to sink in as much as it could, "we find one of those things and submit it in and it turns out to be fake, then we get killed off like the dogs. If we by some miracle get what she's looking for then we suddenly find ourselves forced to give off all our credit to Cameroon…and then we get absolutely nothing out of it. We lose regardless here."

"I doubt it would be as simple as that," Rotund's slippery voice skipped in, turning slightly to his side to catch the stares of the sitting man and the quiet baby faced gentlemen next to him, "otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"I'm a working man," The slim angry man raised up his hands, spacing them flat out from his body as if to shrug, piquing up his voice to become more cheerful, "need what I can get from what I do best…."

"Let's get to it gentlemen," Rotund growled.

"Shouldn't we wait for the others?" the calm tone of the heavy set man distilled back into his questioning mindset.

"Where are those three?" Rotund flatly turned full face to them, clamping his opening hands down to his sides.

"I took care of them," a deep muddled voice showered through the cold steel containment of the hangar, violently echoing throughout the construct furthering disturbing its coherence. The ominous blue glow of the television screen suddenly shattered, breaking down its slick pattern formulation to become choppy with thickly jutting black lines wobbly in between chunks of white fuzz.

"What's going on!" the angry killer rose up to his feet and looked quite prepared to smash his hands against screen in hopes of returning its picture but the energetic exuberance and its tinge of violent obsession were subsidized with the starting of a more peculiar disruption; the dimming of the lights. Their heads suddenly rose to look at the world above them as it became stifling dark. The bulbs embedded in the holsters dropping so low in their intensities that their swivelling pig-tail shape could be made out with absolute distinction. "What going on?" he reasserted his question like statement but at a much lower tempo that siphoned out a deeply embedded fear he had for the dark. Keeping all their eyes upon the declining bulbs proved to be their greatest mistake for in an instance the intensity of the electrical wiring within rung up to his highest strength, sparking up a flavour of light that would make one believe something was coming down from the heavens to smite them. The criminal complainer instantly snapped down to his knees, mindlessly throwing his head down to the floor in attempt to find solace in its firm weight under his shadow but the four corners arrangement made this quite the difficulty and now all he could see was the pulsing bubbles of black and white that produced a sickness within his gut. The others did not fare much better, collapsing as they did to the nearest wall or beam they could find. Though the streaming sound of pulsating electrodes worked themselves efficiently into their ears, they could quite readily discern the sound of clanking as the metal chains that wound the door shut were being untangled at a steady pace.

As the lights began to burn down from the godly luminance, the killers in the room began to get control of their senses all while overcoming the desire to hurl all that was within their contorted organs for some relief. Just as they each simultaneously turned their attention to the bulbs before they exploded into their fiery bright rampage, the lot of them found themselves focussed upon the figure that had made its way in a shay puzzled, the declining sunlight behind creating quite the impressive illumination. Though the lights were successfully burnt to a crisp, their presence was not necessary for the figure stepping forward shared to the group its own source of light emanating from the intricacies of its body.

The figure stepping through was rather short in comparison to the lot of them, it was certainly not difficult to determine from such a stature that this being was quite a bit younger than themselves, not that such a fact would change much in regards to their usual killing; age did not matter so long as the pay was handsomely spread. The focus upon age, height and other more general factors for an easy pummelling quickly faded into after thoughts as the figure stepped forward, taking to a path towards the television screen in the process showcasing the impressive armour that bounded to his body, sharpening out within their minds to be truly menacing, especially in consideration of the steps taken by this being, all strong and assertive like with a confidence that shirked them off as merely fodder. It was a certainly a boy, but indications of just who this boy was rather difficult for the armour left very little flesh to be seen.

Around his forearms were hard looking tubular gauntlets of a pure unblemished white; at the end of his wrists, the gauntlets seamlessly broke out into a wider oval shaped raised bubbles that were firmly emplaced on the top of each hand being tight enough to fight on top and still enable his finger free roaming out to the sides, black coated gloved fingers that appeared almost razor like in their spread along the circle outskirt. At the centre of his palms were circular shaped outcrops, centimetre raised platforms and glistened a puzzling electrical light as though bulbs were stuck within his hands and were fluctuating through the higher degrees of its spectrum. His head was encased in a bullet shaped like helmet, the black siding coming closely around his cheeks and tightly around his chin where a stronger looking block moulded perfectly to make an extension like appearance. Around the crown of his forehead was a thin line of white that jutting out quite well from his skull becoming a second brim over top of what would be his eyes those these were certainly well covered in wide rectangular white goggle pieces that connected from either side of the enclosing helmet sides including an overlapping angular protrusion to make room for his nose; needless to say, it was impossibly solid in its bright shade leaving questions as to how anyone wearing them could see through them. Gracing the top of the helmet was a fin of sorts, a white coloured Mohawk that ran from the edge of the brim around his forehead to the back of his head, raising a high inch from the top of his head.

His torso appeared to be covered in something that was not wholly natural to his physicality. At the edge of his elbows the white armour continued, pulling upwards of his shoulder where it made a wide circular loop around his neck as a thick collar pieces. Everything immediately following the shoulder line and collar in connection was relatively black, holding quite a bulky, yet still slimming state, as it made diagonal lines from his arm pits to his the end line of his upper chest before blending down into his waist where it seamlessly became a part of his leggings. At the centre of his chest was a bit of a plateau, a plate of white that rose out from the shoulder pads and had four thick spider like legs that wrapped around his sides and trailed in for a connection as his backside. The central plateau was quite large and was a pentagon, a five sided shape with the bottom being flat and the top quite narrowed into an arrow like point aimed at his head. At the centre was a similarly shaped inner piece though much smaller thereby reducing the white armour piece to be merely just an outline, or more conventionally, a carry pack for this central item; a yellow tinted light that like his palms exuberated an impeccable force of electrical light energy that whips out in small thin bands of lightning though never quite leaving whatever shield kept them in check. Around his waist was an inch thick white belt and on his feet were circular ended boots that were quite chunky and completed a full cling around much of his shin.

"Who are you?" Rotund spouted off as he angrily rubbed his back along one of the side beams; throwing his arms out to get some balance as his pulsating visual receptors was still affecting his sense of balance. But the figure just stepped to the front of the television screen, looking down to the corner where the empty chair now was and swivelled his head in one motion to take one last look at the two behind him. A smile formed upon his face, satisfied that his enemies were dazed, confused and certainly in a great amount of pain. He slapped his right hand against his belt with the openness of his energy engrossing palm, producing an electrical burst of electrical light that reproduced the loud hum of the bulbs. He pulled it slowly up to his chest before laying it out ahead of himself to reveal the channelling energies of lights that whipped around his hand to the pint that it nearly blinded out the black coated finger appendages.

"I thought I'd bring the curtains down on the show a little sooner than anticipated."

* * *

"I'm very sorry about this Kyle," Deryck commented as he reached down to pick up one of the chair pegs. The piece's former sleek varnished dark wood design had met the unfortunate fate of being reduced to kindling in the battle, not it was expected to fuel a fire any time soon, "I guess I should be satisfied that you're more than able to handle yourself in a fight…" He glanced his head to look to Kyle before grudgingly letting it slide down to face the floor in misery, focussing upon the blackened bullet hole nearby, "can't say Athis's family fared better," he let out a deeply held sigh as he relived the painful memory, wiring it down with hope that its effect would distance itself from his conscience, "still, this could have been a lot worse.

"It's alright," Kyle spoke a stern upper jaw as he rose up from his seated position on the backside of the long collapsed chair in the corner. He reached out his arm and placed it down gingerly upon the boy's shoulder instantly awakening within him some cheer though of what variety had yet to be determined, "there was nothing you could do about it, for that I am sorry for you and what's happened…" he lingered off into a numbing silence that allowed Deryck to regain some lost form, "but now, you're going to have to live with this," his hand slid down the boy's upper arm before meeting an attraction at his own side.

"I know," Deryck gulped as both his hands began to twiddle around with the broken peg, "just wish I didn't have too."

"You sure it was wise," Kyle turned around abruptly towards the kitchen opening, seeing as the chewed up ground solidified into a more crisp appearance before threatening off into a cut of white linoleum, "leaving that man to his fate?"

"No I don't think so," Deryck dropped his right hand to his side carrying the peg with it. He looked up with a narrow stare, looking around the room attempting to find something still in pristine condition but he found himself coming across and focussing upon the all too many imperfections that had befallen it.

"I have to admit that he has a valid point," Kyle leaned up against the inner trim of the kitchen opening, crossing his arms over his chest casually as he looked across to the boy, seeing the reformed shine in the tinted front window pane which had met a new form of glistening on account of the sun darting down for the day to give way to the evening darkness. "Our kind of hero…we don't knowingly leave anyone to their deaths," Kyle brought up a hand to his mouth and looked away to the floor, "we're not Batman."

"Yeah," Deryck piqued up, head firmly straighten up with his posture, "regardless of what he's caused, regardless of who he is…he doesn't deserve this," He swivelled his feet to come in direct confrontation with Kyle whom had reasserted himself straight in the opening, "I know the places he likes to cool down, I'm just going to give him some time...if he won't go back to the cops, maybe I can convince him to talk to me instead. I can help him."

"Then there's still the issue of your former colleague there," Kyle shifted into a casual tone, "he knows who you are, what you do…where we live. I've dealt with these kinds of people before," he boldly stated with a step forward and bounce of his brow, "he'll want something, and he'll do a lot of damage to get it."

"But what choice do I have?" Deryck responded shortly with the side sway of his head, "do I let him die just so that I can live in peace?"

"I have to say your taking this remarkably well Deryck," Kyle took a few paces forward adopting a more concerned expression that clearly seeped upon his lips, "I'm actually kind of surprised…and I'm sorry to tell you this, but the answer is that there are none." Deryck nodded his head and decided to make his way towards the lone window at the front of the room, approaching it with arm ready to plant itself across so that his weary head could look out at the serene styled neighbourhood he now resided in however unusual that would have sounded to him a couple of months ago. "What about your friend, do you know what happened to him?"

"No," Deryck spoke through a hushing of his own voice. "But he knows who I am too now also…probably blames me for the murder of his family…he'll probably want to take a shot at me also."

"Deryck?" Kyle's voice rang up as though he had discovered something new or unexplained, "is there anyone else that Rotund may have gone after related to you?"

Deryck blinked sporadically as he turned his head slightly to conflict with Kyle's prodding expression, though his face conveyed an outwardly secretive intent, "not that I know of. Never met the folks who made me…and anyone I've ever gotten attached often fall to an early death," his eyes wavered back to the outside world, "Razzi and Athis were the closest things I had to friends, but look how that turned out…" he grunted, "I think it's probably best I just avoid getting near anyone, it would be better that way," his cynical attitude began to blossom, "it would probably be less painful…I'm tired of watching the world crumble while I just keep moving on." He sighed, "now that I'm on this good side, with this ring," he rose up the green item attached to his finger, "I've been forced to realize it and confront it…the source of all these problems. The desires that made me feel so good in the past just don't have the same kind of impact anymore."

"You can't be like that Deryck," Kyle attempted to captivate with a tone of contention, "things could still turn out to be better…you just need to give it some time and work hard like you want to be this hero…you have such great potential."

"I'm keeping the ring Kyle," Deryck responded as he tipped his chin to his shoulder to show the seriousness in his eyes, "I don't think it wants to go anywhere else anyway. There are just some elements of my former self that I'm just dropping," he smiled weirdly as he refocused upon the window, "I've been too much of a negative person all my young life…it's what I was doing with Razzi, what I wanted to do with that kind of company that led me down all those horrible paths that only ended with the people around me getting hurt…" the cynical edge slipped away to its after thoughts, "I want to start over, I want to have more optimism…and I don't want it just to be because I have this ring, because I'm now on this side of the law instead of that one," he nodded as a reassuring gesture to himself, "I want it to be because it's something I need to make my life better."

"That's good Deryck," Kyle commented, "So what are you going to do now?"

Deryck expression suddenly slumped into a puzzling one, characterized by an opening jaw and narrowing eye lids. The dark tint of the glass appeared rather strange to him in one particular area, a long and straight bending strip that hollowed out an imprint devoid of the shade, and while it was understandably crooked in the eyes of the window, the reality was to the contrary; a vertical beam of intense white energy that was snapping through the air. The four story townhouses with their brick overlays across the street prevented any such opportunity of discerning a source, but even through all the much taller office buildings, highways and complexes in behind, he could make out this puzzling spark through the darkened cloud uniformed sky; something was definitely occurring way back there on the edge of town. "What is that…?" Deryck's voice trailed off but no sooner than posing the question, he felt a earth shattering shake at his feet followed by a force full tug backwards that took away whatever balance he held so dear. There was no explosive sound, not in its generic sense, but what did happen was some sort of shockwave that made the tint of window nulled for the seconds of impact; it was an explosion of light.

"What was that?" Kyle immediately rushed over to the window, helping up Deryck best he could with both hands, "what happened?" he questioned, looking down to Deryck's face as he was starting to regain his footing however his eyes did posit a massive complaint with a sensing dull of bubbles of thick black outlines and hovering lights that teetered on a bizarre radiation like colour spectrum.

"It was some sort of light," Deryck suddenly regained his strength, roaming his hand along the wall till he had reached onto a small palm sized panel with a single grey dial at its otherwise silver coat of metal. With a quick and steady turn to the side, the tint of the window magically faded away giving colour to the world, finally portraying it in its proper context. "A beam that like rose to the sky," his lips fumbled around as he attempted to find words that would best convey the sight that he saw, "it was a powerful light," he became shocked abruptly as he turned to look at Kyle who was intently arching his head down to get a look outdoors and into the distance where Deryck was apparently looking to, "that was in the east side corner."

"The crime alleys?" Kyle responded with a hobble of his head, noticing in the distance the ruckus that was immediately floating around in the aftermath; lights, horns and spectacle of coloured vehicles making their way to and fro or parking with confused drivers popping out for a hope of figuring out just what exactly had hit them. "Some days they just don't understand what they're dealing with, all that alien stuff is just going to get them all killed one day."

"We have to go check it out," Deryck stated as he stepped back from the window. The ring at his finger began to glow its vibrant emerald hue drawing his attention to it, watching as the magical rays committed to the act of formulating his Lantern costume; the hard edges boots and gloves, shoulder piece, chest insignia embedded within a hexagonal outline and his angular mask. "Come on," Iota voiced his judgment, the suit taking its full form before he had finished the first word.

"Alright," Kyle dropped his solidified stare with a passing grunt. He turned abruptly to his new colleague and looked at the boy's eagerness to get into the commotion that had obviously affected quite a hefty chunk of the lower city. With a simple command to his Lantern's ring, Kyle was immersed in a sheen of emerald energy that conformed to every integer of his body, moulding onto his natural flesh the Lantern's uniform. When the sheen had dropped from him, it revealed the pleasant flex of his tastes: heavy and tight fitting wrists bands that ran up his forearm, hard edged boots that stopped short of his knees, shoulder pieces that connected into a triangular point along his chest where at the centre the lantern logo rested in a circle of white, and the mask, a simple band of green that made his eyes appear as a milky green tinted white held within sharp rectangular slots. "Follow me lead," Kyle flexed out his limbs to a get a full feel of his own costume, "and no 'holy' puns."

"Holy green explosion Lantern!"

* * *

"What do you think happened here?" A gruff voice slipped in with a question shared by all around. The figure strode along the rigid cement floor to reach the so called impact site that was in one corner of the large hangar like building he was in. "Some sort of meteor maybe? He continued with his babbling questions; he was the first person on the scene but could not make any logic to what had happened here. The man was a monstrous standing individual with quite the broad length in his shoulder span, a necessity for the supporting of his rather beastly looking arms and muscle toned chest. His head was quite the plain oval shape with the only distinguishing feature being that of the blond beard that venture to his chin at the lowest and ran straight up the sides of his mouth to clasp together under his nose. The top of his head was covered in a police cap, a wide pentagon topped well-structured hat that rose quite highly above his scalp: the black brim circled out from his brow keeping his dark eyes rather shrouded. Over his head was a hood, a fabric piece that ventured over top of his hat and slanted downward to the sides over his ears and blending downward into the shoulders where it became a part of the long navy blue coat that he wore. Several silver small rectangular clamps dotted along the centre of his torso heading downward to his waist where the jacket parted to either side to make way for his ready to move legs, they were magnetic devices that kept the jacket close and tightly bound together to become almost a wrapping robe devoid of any seams. The only part of importance to those looking at him was the small object on the right side of his chest, a silver badge that had a circular bottom and three horn ridges at its top; the sign that this man was an enforcer of the law.

"I don't know," came a swift yet calm tempered response. The person whom had made himself known to the officer held a similar uniform but was a much lighter variety which distinguished him from the darker frowning officers but nonetheless conveyed his official stature within the civil department. His hat was a deep shade of orange and unlike the officer more star pointed construct, his was much more box shaped though the size and reach of the black brim was retained thereby dampening the view of his eyes. The jacket, hood included, were of a modest yellow, punctuated with inch thick orange lines that ran the breadth of his upper chest and arm and again just before hitting his waist line. With a smooth face, less than admirable physical immensity and an eagerness to care for those around him, it was not difficult to determine that this person was a part of a medical division, though his services as a practitioner would certainly go into question considering the latent stages of death that bodies were in. Needless to say, he was not nearly qualified to make even a guess as to what had happened at this location.

These kind of places were often the homes of murderers and gangs, a place where they could stay low through the harsher times on their kind or await the return of other colleagues so that they could make their safe meetings and embark on their regulated and organized criminality; However, the criminals hiding out at this location had been killed, a fate not entirely unexpected in their line of work. In their little corner below the lone room above, the floor had been crushed a full foot deeper than it original flat and smooth foundation. Not only was the concrete broke down to small blocks, a descending rung of chewed up cement pieces that fell into an indented centre where there was little more than dust, but the bleak grey image of the crude cement had been turned to an ash black hue that embedded within observers the notion of a high impact explosion; however, there were particular details that lead an invested thinker to the contrary. For one, the ceiling, which was the base plate for the room above, had a singular break in its thick material, a hole that was directly above the centre of the impact crater big enough to fit a basketball through; not only that, but the hole continued all the way up into the evening sky. Secondly, the weak metal walls, while glazed in the now common ash black were in of themselves undamaged. Thirdly, the bodies, four in total, were still well in tact albeit with sickly grey skin tones that felt quite leathery to the touch; their eye lids had been bolted open with the eyes themselves looking hard as glass. Their varied hair colours had likewise been stained to a heavy ash, devoid now of anything that could differentiate the bodies save for some minor body structural differences; the jackets, pants and boots, while for the most part being black already, looked even more so rugged. With jaws wide open, this crew of murders appeared to look pretty frightened upon the culmination of the explosion, if it was indeed something of that nature.

There was a score of officer's walking around the hanger area, quite baffled as their leader had made known though still taking to their normal duties; whether that be taking questions from the witnesses, making arrests of the culprits, walking around aimlessly as though they had a purpose or simply awaiting the arrival of a bunch of super powered superheroes to deal with the crisis at hand.

"What happened?" Kyle's deep voice caught the officers and medic off guard. The Green Lantern, immersed in the emerald particles that emanated from his ring, glided through the double door sized opening, the thick coated brown door originally there having been noticeably removed, wrenched free of the chains and its sliding track to be flat on the ground a short distance from the space it covered in its prime. His hands were slightly paced out and forward from his body to keep his flying balance as his legs kept somewhat together in the tailing back leaving the light trail of Lantern energy particles. The blend of these particles however did not necessarily end with him as the farther back wisps came to be entrenched in another Lantern flowing back in from behind, Iota, holding a similar positioning but showing signs of a greater difficulty in balancing his decent into the large spacious hangar.

"Your guess is as good as ours…Lantern?" The officer began a sturdy dialogue, assuming from the green glow at his side this was indeed the superhero Green Lantern; however upon a turn to his side to take a full view of the entities, he was surprised to see not only two Lantern Ring wielders but also that none of them looked remotely familiar to him, "you don't look like GL."

"Who are you guys?" The medic straightened up from his examinations of the deceased on the floor and drew himself up in sparkled confusion that brought forth the new issue that caused them a great deal of puzzlement; something they'd rather be focussing on than what had happened at this crime scene.

"I'm sort of," Kyle came to a resounding stop at the side of the officer, lowering himself to a flat stature to look towards the medic who stood just outside the apparent impact crater, "well, I ," he stammered to get free as his hand un-heroically tested the inversions of his elbows to clasp his thighs for support, "I've been away for a long time…new costume," he stated which much more certainty but with a voice that nonetheless conveyed his less than eager attitude in giving a proper explanation, " I'm older now, it's been some time," his head bowed with a sudden relieving sigh that expulsed all the air from his lungs.

"And what's with the young one?" The medic started up again with a bit of a sneer that slipped away into a light chuckle, "The lanterns taking on sidekicks now?"

"I'm not a sidekick," Iota winced his eyes with a hefty sway of his head in a negative fashion, spitting out his response as though the question were an insult directed at him subliminally, "I'm just new," he let out a bit of a high pitched grunt as he reached for the floor with his right foot; however, he proved to be unable to gain immediate balance, finding himself forced to waddle around a bit on the pivot before his left foot could come down from the emerald glow the ring generated for flight.

"It shows," the medic concluded with his snarky attitude.

"Look," Kyle raised his hands, "we're just here to help, we sort of got caught up in this explosion or whatever it was," his eyes narrowed in upon the indentation in the floor which was instantly noted for containing crusty concrete pieces that have long been blackened to ash with all of the surrounding features having also experienced as much but remaining relatively intact; the chair's cushioning had not been torn, merely blackened, and the television screen, while now most definitely unusable, had not been toppled off its trolley. "That is what we've got here isn't it?" he looked to the leading officer but all that he could get from him was a disquieting shake of his head.

Iota, intrigued by crumbling breaks in the concrete floor, started to make his way towards it but suddenly became side-tracked by the front edge of his boot conflicting with the scruffy backside of one of the so called explosion victims. He looked down with a deep breath and examined this person, the entirety of the backside, hat included, having been deeply embedded in the skin like a tight sheen of near leather like shine. "What happened to them?" he retracted his foot and looked up to the Medic approaching him with a discerning raise of his chin.

"I'm going to see if my ring can take any readings of the explosion sight," Kyle raised his sparkling emerald ring up to the space between him and the conversing officer, "might be able to pick something up that the normal sensors would have missed."

"Be my guest," the officer responded with jest.

Following a soft nod of his head in compliance, Kyle made his way towards the circular formation where the bomb was thought to have emitted its explosive damage from. The tapping of his feet along the hard flat floor came to an abrupt stop upon reaching the outer rungs of the circle where the smooth floor had been transformed into smaller pieces that lined up with one another facing inward, growing increasingly smaller as they headed towards the sinkhole styled centre; here, his heavy steps made a crunching sound, snapping through the charcoal of the outer layer to the deep centred cement that once was its full body. He soon knelt down and kept his ring hand tightly bound to a fist as he tipped it over to face the floor; shinning out from it's a steady green translucent beam that spread out from the source at diagonal lines to become a more encompassing sweep of the wreckage, "something?"

"I'm not sure," the medic knelt down and rubbed his orange gloved hand over top of the body's back side, feeling the crunch that such a light force created, "best way I can describe it," he looked up to Iota, "their bodies, their skin, was flash mummified…it's like the moisture of their bodies and even their pigmentation was just ripped out of them in a matter of seconds."

"Can we get an I.D. on them?" Iota slapped his hands to his knees using them as a balancing point for leaning down to get a better examination.

"Oddly enough, much of their body is still in good condition," the medic responded in a swift statement devoid of emotion as he slipped his right hand around the arm on the other side of Iota followed by his other hand tapping upon the deceased's thigh region, working to prop the deceased upwards and let it fall smoothly onto his backside.

Iota's eyes went wide, "No…"

"I've got something," Kyle's ring readings of the floor indentation ceased as he rose up, straightening his back, "but it can't be," his head jotted back to look towards the less than amused officer but within seconds of seeing his displeasure he found himself backtracking to what he saw in the panning movements of his eyes; the gawking Iota.

"Kyle," Iota started up when the locked onto one another, "I think I've got a problem."

"What is it," Kyle made some steps towards him.

"I recognize this guy…"Iota gulped, "this is Rotund."

Kyle blinked with an awkward shake of his head, not sure as to whether he should be in disbelief or obvious deduction mode, "you think this Razzi guy could have been behind this."

"I hope not," Iota steadfastly denied his belief for the inclusion of his former colleagues in the list of suspects, "there's no way…" he shook his head, "I mean even if he went straight here after us…" he lingered on his final world, making a careful effort to avoid the blunder of making his heroic identity less than secret, "well, there just wouldn't have been time to do all this right?"

"I've got some strange readings on my ring that I think I recognize but I'm not sure," Kyle started up with a manner of importance to this line of working, "I'm going to one of these pieces to the Martian Manhunter for proper analysis."

"What have you figured?" The officer stepped in, hands reaching for his waists in an authoritative manner that he hoped to convey a sense of belief for his involvement in the activities pertaining to this incident, "I've got three different branches of law enforcement, fire and medical departments, and the civilian folk frightened. They're all on me for what's happened here, what I am supposed to tell them?"

"At current," Kyle raised his left hand in a reassuring manner, keeping his fingers tightly bound and shaking in an attempt to add some physicality to his statement, "I believe this may have just been an accident, the deceased here found some technology that wasn't theirs and it blew up in their faces."

"Kyle," Iota beckoned for his mentor's attention. "I've got to find Razzi…I've just got to be sure he wasn't involved in any of this…."

* * *

Razzi's senses had taken one too many shocks as of late, his break free from prison was anything but pleasant and the subsequent beating afterwards proved to him once and for all that he wasn't invincible. At the moment his hearing was shot, his body was numbed with an insufferable pain, his taste buds were soaked in his own blood and sweat while the former self-contained fluid crusted in hard capsules around his nose; but of what was important for operation at the moment was his vision, his perception of the environment he was in and what had happened to lead him into his predicament. Unlike the dull black knockout that occurred at his prison break, this particular knock-out blow felt more so like a burst of white light that blinded him for a moment before inevitably leaving him unconscious. He was relieved to feel the shade of darkness and with the accompanying sigh, opened his eyes and saw his own persons, retaining around his body the eggplant purple jumpsuit of his short prison stay though of the brown long coat was nowhere to be found. His legs felt like they were immersed in some kind of loose cold soil yet still hitting something rather solid if not rubbery, upon inspection he found that he was sitting in a loose layer of sand that barely tapped upon a centimetres reach on his sides; in the sandy domain he found there to be black splotches which he understood to be a rubber like material that made up the base of the floor or rather the centre plateau. He appeared to be in a large circular arena structure, a coliseum of sorts where he had taken a position at the centre upon round stage which was a step up from the wide track that ran along the two-metre high metal plated walls separating the grounds from the bleachers. Not much could be recognized of the chairs however, the numerous assortment were obscured by what appeared to be a dark tarp tapering down from the back side of the top rung to the wall top at the very bottom; only towards the back could the top curvature of the chairs be made out through the tightly stretched blanket. On the backside of the spectators section was a wide path comparable to that of the thickly dirt trail that circled the stage and as in line with the shape of the coliseum, it ran consistently with it in a full circling shape. The walls that surrounded this walkway however were apparently ripped out some time ago giving way to glimpses of the night-time sky with its delicately blue hues mixing into the dark greys of the encroaching clouds. Beams that presumably made the full distance from the ground upwards of this four story structure to hold up the small bubble topped ceiling were spaced around the structure proposing that the only way to the view the outdoors required one to look through them like goal posts. It could arguably be said that this place was being prepared for renovations; however, those in the know would admit to the contrary.

The first objective he had on his mind was to figure out just what it was he was stuck to and how to get free from it; his arms had been spread out from his body and raised ever so slightly above his head. A quick glance and he found there to be thin tubular yet solid wire cuffs fitted tightly to his wrists which appeared to have been drilled into something black, a somewhat curved object. Slamming his head against the back of whatever he was tied, he began to push his neck forward as best he could to that his head could face upwards to take a look at the top of the object; the height of two heads above he saw the circular curvature of the tubular object. He clenched his teeth and revved up the tendons of his arms with the clasping of his fingers into fists. He tugged and pulled with the occasional grunt which he hoped would set him free with ease but it was all to loss; holding his breath and mustering all the strength he could from his already fragile body was fruitless and soon found himself resigning himself to the fact that he was stuck and there was nothing he could do to change this ordeal. At this point he was about ready to scream for help but the entrance of a familiar yet entirely new figure convinced him to maintain a strong silence in an attempt to avoid being perceived as weak.

"Razzi," a slippery whisper of a voice ventured from Razzi's left side giving him a bit of a chill as the breath from his kidnapper hit the side of his neck antagonizing the blood trails that ran by; what a cold sweep it was. "I just wanted to bring you here…I wanted to let you know that I have dealt with your debt to Rotund. It has been nullified," his eyes shifted to follow the sounds his ears had picked up on, these important words as they were to him. What he came to see with the swivel of his head quite rightfully sent a shock through his spine. A lean boy with white bulky gloves, boots and a belt that connected up to a wide smooth bubble topped piece of armour with a glowing bulb of yellow at the centre of his chest. The bullet casing of his helmet had a white fin rise upon its top and he had around his eyes thick spaced goggles that forbade the sight of his natural eyes through the solid white tint, but then there was that smile, that cheeky smile with the superbly clean white teeth, "he's no longer with us," this being piqued up with a chuckle that caused minor displacement in the solid sheen of black that covered his cheeks. Razzi's eyes widened with fear as the menacing bright figure slammed his hands down along the sides of the black barrel object behind, kneeling down to look at Razzi with a sneer. "Yeah, whatever," the luminescent figure used his arms as levers, pressing the grasp of his hands to give him a boost towards the edge of the stage that Razzi faced.

"Athis?" Razzi cried out, "is that you?"

"How perceptive of you," Athis came to a stop a mere three strides from leaving the stage plateau. He arched his back and turned the side of his face to Razzi with full crook of his head to his shoulder, "but then again, nothing gets by you does it…?"

"Come on man," Razzi complained as he returned to his futile attempts to break free, "let me out of here," but looking across the floor he saw Athis simple raise himself up straight with the tip of his chin down and in the moment he thought to stop his struggle and focus just one what was exactly going on, "what is this thing?"

"Can you hear it? Feel it?" Athis moaned.

"What's wrong with you," Razzi took in a heavy breath and slump down to a position of relaxation.

Athis turned around with a few clean steps and looked down to Razzi with straight look devoid of that arrogant smile, "of course you can't, you don't understand what I mean." His right foot stepped out on its side with the left foot closely following up in a near dragging pattern as he forced himself into a side step that nonetheless kept his upper body and head directly aimed at his kidnapped victim. "Look at the stars, do you see that?" His hand pointed outward to the sky through metal posts a short distance above, Razzi shook his head in confusion with a heavy gulp, "it's the power, the energy of light…just imagine what could be accomplished if one were able to harness its raw strength," his hands tensed up into fists, pulling closely to the top of his chest just under his chin. He came to a stop three feet away from conflicting with Razzi's straight laying legs and the fists fell apart to his sides though one hand managed to make its way to the side of his head, tapping onto the corner piece of his forehead, "it's all in here now," he tapped. "The voice," his eyes wavered, "this helmet has shown me the light…a stupid relic from a past generation of family members that now ends with me."

Razzi's heart beat began to race as he watched his former colleague, a new tormentor in his life, walk around him, angled towards the barrel that situated itself behind him, locking him to his seated position. The tubular structure was completely black to say the least and reached to about stomach height for the normal person; it was similar to a traditional wooden barrel in that there were six three inch wide brackets that ran around it starting with one at the bottom and spaced upward accordingly so that the last bracket was firmly around the top. In between each of the smaller brackets were thin slices that maintained the horizontal lay of the primary brackets and though the multitude of them were quite evenly spaced, they nonetheless failed to convey anything behind it save for darkness as though this exterior image was nothing more than a carrying case for what was inside. "I was just a young child interested in engineering, building and then destroying and taking the things I wanted when everyone refused to give it to me…" Athis continued as he hovered his head over top of the barrel's mouth, "but now with this knowledge, I can't stop thinking of all these great things I will construct and all the wonderful things I will destroy!"

"Athis," Razzi cried out in a frightened tone, "what is this thing?"

"To you, it is nothing but an image. You do not understand that what you see before you is actually something in past for the speed of light does indeed have its limit in velocity," Athis continued in his informative manner while his hands began to clasp upon the rim of the barrel before sinking in deeply, "but I just don't see this…I can feel it, I can hear the voice and its tells me such things."

"Athis, you need help man," Razzi sputtered out through blubbering lips.

"This city is saturated in light. All the neon and the florescent, the advertisements and games with their holo-projections…the filth of this city is so rich with this energy and now it will be their undoing," Athis contented strongly, "I'm a living conduit of the light that you see, and this object that you've got yourself attracted to is only the finest of my creations." The orbs of energy embedded within the palms of his hands began to flow with the electrical pulsating light snapping off wires of lightning all around the inner sides of the barrel till it hit upon a lens, a glass plat no more than half a foot down and wedged within the barrel.

"Athis…" Razzi spoke within a hushed whisper as he felt the force full rays of white light, albeit weakly, stained through the small thin sliced rungs turning it into a proper vent that ventured out and hit upon his backside, tossing his shadowy image across the stage floor, "what are you doing?"

"I will absorb all the light within the city," Athis obliged to answer, "and when I have reached critical mass, this device will be set off expulsing the energy and wiping out all living light got its glow."

"OK," Razzi shook his head in understanding but quickly contorted his backside to push upon the backside of the barrel to get up onto his feet. "I'm very sorry about your family…but man, please, I've got nothing against you, just let me go…."

"No," Athis retorted sharply, "I think we both know well what I did and what you've done in reprisal. It was I who called the cops on our operation at the garage, but you had already betrayed us long before I did…but of course, I'm not exactly the hero of this story."

"Agh," Razzi slipped down to his backside as his weak joints failed to make a consistent support for his desire to flee, "I knew this place looked familiar."

"The Hub City fairgrounds," Athis retracted his hands from the swirling joints of white fiery energy and dipped back to Razzi's side before unconventionally side stepping once more to the edge of the stage with his right hand drawn out and pointing towards the wall, "the parking garage is right there!"

"Is this why you've brought me here," Razzi spat out, "to add some crummy poetry to your story?"

"No!" Athis shouted his defiance a second time as he retraced his steps, sneering at Razzi as he made the easy approach back to his light controlling contraption, "this is all for the sake of someone else, a mutual friend of ours who has forsaken us both with his failures and his loyalty…a true criminal than either one of us could ever be, filled with hate and the belief in injustice…the one with the power ring."

"Deryck," Athis sighed as his body simply just gave up.

"The boy who would claim himself a hero over what I had done…" Athis dropped his hands to the glass lens, peering over the ledge to get an understanding of the beam that was steadily growing in strength, lighting up the arena with its all too disturbing colours of red and the tempered tasteless grey metal of the walls. "But he will have the desire to be the hero I would have been," he stepped into a lighter tone as though he were talking to himself, "the suffering, the death of this city will assure that." The circular beam of light that rose from the mouth of the barrel grew in its immensity, blurring through the dust that casually cascaded across the weaker forms; with satisfaction, Athis smiled as he watched the laser like scan burst through the ceiling with a solid perfect circular hole, melting away the sickly thin materials therein. "To the sky and beyond…..come to me."

* * *

Iota planted his hands on the outer ledge of a tall three foot wide window embedded just a few inches inward of the main face of the traditionally brick laid wall; these more classical designed buildings being the noted staple for the crime ridden regions where civil servants had great strains when dealing with redevelopment. Despite its less than credible reputation, this region was one that Iota was comfortable in as his alter-ego, having once been a part of the mindless chaos that occurred within it though he would like to believe he was more involved than he actually was. The purpose for this return however was not one of permanence, rather he was present to look for his former colleague, a common crook named Razzi whom may or may not be responsible for the deaths of a more unscrupulous lot whose known crimes made petty criminal such as himself even cringe. He was about six stories up from the bottom and on the outside of it no less, a climb that would have been difficult if he was leaping from window to window but with the power of flight that his ring granted, getting to the floor he desired was nothing more than a mere thought and he was suddenly fluttering towards it; needless to say, it was an experience he never tired of nor was it an ability that he was used to having…the time for its enjoyment was often muddled in with response of heroic activities to an overwhelming problem.

Tips of his feet were firmly entrenched in the indented window ledge; Iota allowed the fluctuating emerald particles to decline around his form as he ventured to find an access point to get inside the room. When his bare fingers scrapped along the bricks he felt his eyes waver towards it, watching as his uncovered fingers scrape along the coarse brick feeling inside the small cracks that inflicted the surface; the red colour of its outer moulded had changed to a vibrant violet that mirrored the change from the day into night. His other hand, which possessed his ring, worked its way to the centre of the window, feeling for the inch wide wooden beam that ran horizontal from side to side thereby separating the pane of glass into two separate pieces, spaced away from one another enough for the bottom one to be pulled upwards without any resistance from above. Satisfied for his hands positions, he let the ring work its magic on the wedging the window open, pressing a straight beam of energy no larger than the circular plate top of the ring which collided with the wooden base of the bottom window pane, slipping into a curving crowbar end that chiselled away at the dividing slot where the base of the window hit the brick top. With a simple budge, the pane was successfully propped upwards which was near simultaneously followed by him placing one foot inside with a subsequent dip of his back to swivel himself inside.

The room was small and narrow though still adequately spacious on account of the lack of furnishings. The floor was nothing like the beautiful dark wood varnish of his current home, rather the boards that comprised the base of this room were rather old and dusty looking leaning more towards an old grey lacking in any wax defining coat; however, of positive note, they were spaced to one another quite tightly making for quite a smooth feeling all the way across, broad side to broadside. The walls stood to be a detrimental blue, primarily so through the declining value of the wall paper, further adding to the unused quality this room exhibited. The light coloured wooden door at the centre of the inner wall opposing the window had gathered the Lantern's attention whom immediately sought to open it upon his full body stepping inside.

"Guess I could have been wrong," Iota rose up his ring hand, forming a pulsating ball of its emerald energy to add some light to the eclipsing darkness, "haven't been here since before our break in to the garage…guess he doesn't want to come back," he continued in a lukewarm tone as his head shook in compliance to the comments of his ring, the conversation in his head. Creaks and moans bellowed through the floor boards as he drew closer to the door only to feel himself suddenly shocked into stopping midway.

"Razzi?" a light pitched voice crisply broke in to his ears. Iota strengthened up the muscles of his legs and hurriedly slipped his fingers down to their palms as he braced himself for the inevitable opening of the door, though of who came through on the other side with the bright light was more shocked than he was. The doors old rustic hinges creaked when the door swung inside the room revealing a popping head around its edge, "Razzi, is that you-?" the last words became swallowed in a moment of intense fear that sucked away all of her breath; the strange green aura that had supplanted itself throughout the dark regions of the room was enough to convince her that this was certainly not the person she was looking for, the emerald green certainly meant there was trouble and that it was time to start running.

"No wait," Iota left his fighting stance, raising his hands towards; regardless of what his sudden actions may have implied, his call for her stop seemed to work and she was crawling her way into the room. The girl was huffing by this point but she casually drew herself forward into the room, pushing the door away to its full limits, stepping away from the shadow maker of the hallway lights to become more viewable. She was a person of equal height to him, though quite frail looking on account of a rather thin frame in need of proper nourishment; she could not have been much older than he was. She had frizzled black hair though it appeared still quite thick with a greasy touch underneath the lighter top sections, her eyes likewise were dark following in line with her complexion. With only a sleeveless white top and tight black pants, she kept her attire relatively simple. "I'm looking for Razzi…" his hands dropped as he had gained an understanding with her, "has he been here lately."

She nodded at first but such came off merely as an allusion to her understanding of the young Lantern's trust, "no…" her eyes winced as the nodding quickly turned to a violent sway from side to side. Her hands clasped to one side of the inner side of the door frame, her sight unable to break free of the emerald glow, "he hasn't been here since he was imprisoned…he got out though right?"

"Yes," Iota swiftly replied with a stern tone.

"You're not here to take him in are you?" she beckoned with sincerity.

"No, not me," Iota stammered, "not at the moment…I'm just worried that he may have gotten himself into more trouble than he can handle…do have any idea where he may have gone?" When she failed to respond in the next few seconds he thought at first that she was unwilling to break her trust with Razzi; however, noticing the drop of her jaw and the widening of her eyes caused something of a concern in him, that there was something occurring behind him. The unseen hallway light in its yellow flashy tone began to waver through the shades, dipping in towards the lower spectrums before finally plunging into darkness. It was in that flash of darkness that he understood what the girl was looking too. The walls, the floor, this dreary room had suddenly become full of life with a strong splash of light filling in light the colour and spilling into every corner, casting his long shadow towards her and behind to the back wall of the hallway; something he had seen before was happening all over again.

With a quick swivel and marching feet, Iota made his way to the window and saw in the distance a strong pulsating beam of white light aimed at a vertical rise to the sky, cutting a clear path to the heaven that saw no end. It was strong in its intensity and as such he had little doubt that anyone in the city was not paying heed to its existence; it was certainly a lot larger than the one he had seen at home and he knew quite well of the effects, the killing stroke to Rotund and his crew at the hangar. If this one was larger and thicker than he could only conclude that the damage would be more than just a few burns to the surrounding area. A quick glance through the city limits, the old broken down brick buildings and then the serene neighbourhoods in the distance revealed the absence of light; not a single window aglow. He had not even a moment to consider the damage already but in an instant the sound of twisted metal rang off in the distance thereby affirming him of the widespread panic that was no doubt now ensuing in the streets with vehicles unable to see the road ahead. "Whatever you do," Iota arched his head to look at the puzzled girl, "don't look at the light!" And with that final statement, the young hero made his way to the night sky to combat against the new ray of light supplanting the necessity for the sun.

* * *

"Doctor Light is dead though?" Kyle, in his Lantern's uniform, placed a troubling question in his Justice League communicator, keeping his hand raised to the side of his ear on the small ear bud. He was soaring through the sky in a casual manner leaving all assortments of particle trails in his wake. He had left the inner city limits and was now taking a stroll above the more deserted elements outside of the constructional forms, just hitting the tail end of the single built up homes and luscious greens that surrounded them to enter upon a more dirt trodden sector with sand red cliffs that ventured into mountains.

"As far as I've been led to understand," Martian Manhunter's voice sounded off in response, "but this fragment you've given me has created a stir in my knowledge, I doubt that this be the original, more likely someone has stolen his equipment."

"Yeah, but a police storage bin?" Kyle responded with evident disgust oozing along his lips. The arched tar black tops of the homes began to grow sparse as did the roads, his destination nearly within reach.

"The armour that ended up being stored there was deemed to be inoperable," the Martian confided.

"Then why am I checking it out?" Kyle flustered in with a quick shooting question.

"Well," the Martian uncharacteristically began with a drop from his all too serious tone, "it won't be the only place you'll be checking for me…if you don't mind? I mean I could…but then I have other league business and…" he spaced out into silence for a few seconds recognizing the Lantern's dismay based purely upon the microphone static, "this one is just closest to your location," he returned to his distinctive monotone, "with the right articulated mind, someone may have been able to reconstruct it…but I doubt as much."

Surrounding the large box like structure was a metal twined fence; a series of thin wires crossing over one another on diagonal lines while circling bulbs of barb wire sat upon its top nearly two stories high from the reddened sand that comprised the earth floor. The building at the centre was a typical large warehouse, built of stone that was painted down in a sickly pale peach tonal value; it was three stories high and the materials used to construct appeared to be quite thick. Any details that would make this place a noted police 'storage bin' was obscured by the fact that one thing was most certainly out of place; the front door, a two metre wide opening that was just there, lacking in protection. "Something's definitely wrong here," Kyle took a few steps towards the opening; however, his intent was not to go inside, at least not yet, rather there was something black on the ground just outside the entrance way with but a few minor grey elements where one might thought there to be skin, "the cop here," Kyle bent down to examine the body, "it looks like what happened to the guys at that warehouse happened to him…just like at the that criminal Rotund's hideout."

"Kyle," Martian's voice stepped up into a sudden spike resulting in a startling dribbling body effect that roamed its way down Kyle's back causing him to hope back upright, "there's something going on back in the city…."

* * *

Iota had difficulty looking to the ground. He was high above the world where most significant details were indistinguishable from one another and he still found there to be pains in looking down; all he could focus upon was the tubular beam of white light ahead of him as it grew power like clockwork as he drew closer, arms spread out weighted into fists while his body lay out flat as board as was his style in flying mode. If memory served him well, he was above what would be the parking lot of the Hub city fairground; a large patch of ground filled with millions of grey little pebbles closely bound to one another to form mounds where footsteps from long ago made their presence known. He had been among the many to cross along this lot though he was more a run and hide all while being restricted to the strips and lines that parked vehicles had formed; an event at a parking garage just outside the gate that surrounded this region had brought him here, now he was here again but for another reason, "why here?" he questioned himself, thinking through the lost memories he had hoped to forget, "how did…no," he closed his eyes for a long second, "not coincidence…why here?"

The coliseum at the centre of the fairgrounds had lost much of its lively qualities; it was just so widely different from the way he had chosen to remember his experiences here. It had once been full with the applause and cheers all around, coming together to view what entertainment may be provided, but not only this, it was a home for its performers whose origins scattered throughout the universe, coming here for solitude from the wars of destruction that had subdued their home worlds. He was with them before he got the ring, just under two days and he felt like he had come to know them quite well…some were killed in front of him, the others he could only assume were as so but he hoped that they were only missing and waiting to be found; this is partly the reason why he believed the ring had selected him and why he choose to hang on to it, not that the ring gave him too much of a choice in that matter. The building itself was near reaching its deconstruction state; the outer hull had been ripped away to reveal the inner siding of the building, more specifically the massive vertical rising support beams that circled its entire structure indeed giving its form. The beam of light was making its way through the centre ceiling but the side of it could be seen through the gaps made by the roof carrying beams. He slowed down his speed of movement, turning upright to get his feet prepared to land, throwing out his arms to keep balance as he aimed for the wide pathway that circled the top of the spectator's seated section. His blocky boots tapped along the smooth concrete surface, eyes unable to turn away from the power of the white light that scattered its spectrum throughout the building giving it the life that it needed albeit not in the way that he had hope for. "Razzi?" Iota slowed to a stop at one of the smoothly varnished interior concrete pillars that stood just above the seats running parallel to their steel counterparts. He looked down to the centre floor, seeing the eggplant prison jumpsuit that immediately singled him out as someone he knew, but contrary to the theory that Iota had proposed regarding Razzi's involvement in the recent killings, he was chained up, imprisoned to this black barrel shaped construction that was the source of the intense beam of energy.

"Deryck?" Razzi's weak moan reached up to the Lantern, "you've got to help me man," he began to shake his wrists around in their restraints experiencing the same difficulties he experience when he first discovered them, but this time around he began to sense there being hope for his eventual break free, "this things a bomb! Get me out of here!" he peaked up with a scream that became almost instantly shadowed by a coarse cough that acknowledged the fluids that filled his lungs.

"Who did this to you?" Iota called out as he emerged himself in the Lantern particles and took to a steady flight of decent towards the black circle centre plateau with it's a sandy ridden surface. Over the tarp that covered the chairs and over the fence that separated the spectators from the events on stage, Iota had come with ten feet of his old friend the moment he landed but getting to him, to assist him from the shackled that kept him bound, became the most impossible of tasks. In a sudden moment, a second just after he leaned into his running, everything within his eyes went black save for a single strip of white that whipped out in a thin boomerang shape, slicing through the darkness and smashing towards him at lightning speed; all that he could think to do in that split second was pull back as hard as he could. In a jump, he propelled himself back to the edge of the stage, nearly faltering in his balance as he realized that the colours in his vision returned. He wiggled his arms and arched his knees to get back onto his proper mooring as he steered himself to look for the cause of this strike against him. To his fright, a long strip of the sand had formed into glass pebbles that moulded and embedded themselves in the melted composition of the rubber like floor; whatever had intended to hit him was very powerful and in that instant he felt his internal willpower began to falter. He threw his right foot forward and leaned forward upon it, fingers flexing in preparation for a battle if one was to be inevitable.

"It's Athis man!" Razzi let out another scream, "get me off of this deathtrap already!"

"Shut up!" Athis's voice cornered in on Razzi's right side, scrawling over the ledge of the black barrel with his bulky white gloved arms and sharp black coated fingers, dragging forward his body to sneer at Razzi whose eyes locked within his for a brief moment.

"Athis?" Iota legs straightened up while his arms only became somewhat wobbly and difficult to control as he began to recognize the face of his former friend through the black bullet cased helmet and the pure white goggle pieces that covered the top of his face, "What's going on?"

"Oh, you really want some explanation," Athis ached his head to one shoulder as he straightened up his back and walked away from Athis towards the edge of the plateau where Iota stood there about ready to crumble, "something to affirm your own faulty reasoning."

"No," Iota spoke his defiance in a hushed tone as he shook his head in a negative manner, "what is this? What are you doing…here?" he waved out his hands, keeping his hands wide open to see the palms as they balanced out at his waist line, "why here?"

"This is where it all began for you isn't it?" Athis raised his arms into the air spaced out from his shoulders, letting his fingers roam freely. "This archaic form of entertainment, this spectacle of the human person," he twirled around once but upon stopping he faced down Iota with a simple shrug with the drop of his arms, "but even that's not entirely true is it," he spat out with taste of displeasure, "this was a home for aliens, Deryck hung out with a bunch of freaks and want-to-be humans from all over the universe, can you believe this guy?" Athis grinned as he looked over to Razzi, shaking a hand out to the young Lantern. "I have to wonder," he rose back up and started to break in a small path towards Iota, "how did a small population of immigrants suddenly vanish after your stay? No, no, no, Razzi…I know how you think," He bent down his back lowly and marched towards the helpless prison escapee tapping a finger to his head as he smiled the exposure of his teeth, "they're tearing this old wreck down, all because there was nothing he could do to save them, no, it's worse than that," his head peered over his shoulder, "it's because he didn't want to…that power ring of his, built for his rules only and for whatever reason the aliens here did not fit that description he was looking for."

"They were my friends," Iota attempted to say solidly but rescinded to a gulp, "I couldn't…" he looked to his ring, "I wasn't able to save them."

"Lies!" Athis retorted with a heavy shouted that let all the air of his lungs burst free. He stomped both his feet into the ground as he glared across as his former friend, "I know how you think also," Athis pointed out towards him with a menacing finger, "don't think I don't know your xenophobic mind, the way you mocked these people all your life…how strange that the play on your hatred of them by putting up a show," he turned his back and grew more grim with a shallow voice, "how ugly was that orange girl to you. I wonder, did she turn down your advances? Are you happy now that she's gone?"

"Athis," Iota reasserted himself, "don't make me fight you."

"Did she deserve the fate you left her with?" Athis continued in a more upbeat mocking tone.

"Look, this isn't about her," Iota snapped in with a passion, "I'm sorry about your family, I know I hesitated…but there was nothing I could do," he made up with voice of sincerity, crumbling lips barely able to keep the words clean as they were exiting through his throat which proved even more troublesome when his mind had difficulty finding a way to convey his truest sympathy.

"Then it is a failure we both share," Athis raised up both his hands, back still facing to Iota, "I've had this power for a long time…I've just refused myself the right to use it, what right do I have with all of this?" the palms of his hands began to glow with the thin strands of white lightning.

"What's happened to you?" Iota stepped forward, "I mean, what are you doing?"

Athis place his chin on his shoulder facing out from the beam, tipping ever so slightly to look on his backside to see the trail of green that clashed with the pulsating energy of the spire of light, "it's the voice…" his eyes popped up, "he's in my head, talking to me…" he turned full side, clutching both hands to his head allowing for the shattering rays of electrical energy to cascade around the clean bulb top of his helmet, "to build, to destroy…" he began to chuckle a little much to Iota's surprise, "to be a bright light in all this darkness," he swayed his head slightly from side to side as he hovered his neck lower past his shoulder line as his steps took to strange side stepping on an intercept course to the Lantern boy, "don't you have the voice in your head?"

"Yes," Iota bluntly stated with a dropping jaw.

"The helmet helped me think," Athis continued dryly, "but now, it won't shut up…I know everything the original Doctor Light knew and more," he scoffed, "there's a war of personalities within here, don't you have it, can't you feel it."

"Yes," Iota replied swiftly once more.

"Then, you know how I must stop it," Athis gulped.

"Athis, this isn't going to make you feel any better," Iota commented, "please, shut down this thing…let's get ourselves some proper help."

"No!" Athis's arms shot down to his sides, "this isn't for me…none of this was for me, it's all for you."

"What?"

"Don't you get it?" Athis smiled, "I did everything right. I fought for justice, I did the right thing," he pounded his hands to the centre of his chest, "and still I suffered for it," he pointed to Iota, "you…you who would steal from his own mother are given a Lantern's ring? To be given a purpose and reason, fighting in a galactic police force? What sense does that make? You were nothing but a petty crook…I should be the one with the ring, not you!" he enunciated strongly on each individual word. "But this is what I get, what the fates have dealt me," he grunted into a lowly coarse voice, "and now I must play the role that I have been given."

"Alright fine, but please, let's just keep this between you and me," Iota cautioned, "please…shut down this contraption of yours and we can settle this peacefully."

"I think you're forgetting someone," Athis backtracked his steps to stand his back to the barrel, he nimbly reached down his hand upon the head of Razzi and began to swivelled his palm around through the grease of his hair, "you know, as I waited for you I couldn't help but think that we wouldn't be who were are today if it had not been for Razzi here…it's a shame he had to be an intricate part of our back story, nonetheless, I concluded that its better this way," he looked down to Razzi catching his eyes for the last time, "I'm sorry it had to end like this, but the stronger of us must move on while everyone around us crumbles into ash and dust."

"No!" Iota lunged out with all he could, eyes bolted wide open, forced to watch in horror as the electrical charge of light within Athis's hand began to power to a charge of unobservable energy all while using the top of Razzi's head as a base plate for the subsequent expulsion. Through the bright flare of energy, he could just barely make out Razzi's hair as it instantly dry up and seemingly rescind back into his scalp followed just as quickly by his skin becoming deathly pale and grey, leather like in all its facets. The clincher for Iota though was the eyes, they boiled down in moisture, sucked within his skull and smashed outwards of the sockets with a gushing flow of the white light. Nearing reach, he got himself startled once more into blackness, hearing the familiar grunt of Athis as a saucer of white cut clean through his clouded perception with a trajectory that conflicted with him. Knowing full well of his incapability to dodge it, the ring snapped into action with its delicate green glow, forcing itself all over his body forming the necessary shielding to block the blast that would have surely killed him.

Iota threw his hands out into the air, looking for something to catch onto as he felt the organs in his upper body suddenly slump down to crush his stomach; as a Lantern, he never felt the wind around him through the shield, but he rightfully assumed from his body's haphazard organ placement that he was moving upwards like a bullet. His senses finally kicked back into control when he felt his back side run along something hard and plastic, the top of one of the spectators chair; however, that hit did little damage in comparison to the one immediately following. The back of his head levelled into the lower reaching concrete brim inside of the building's ceiling, forcing it downward against the strength of his neck as his body contorted to fit through the otherwise massive opening through the steel support beams and into the open sky.

The young Lantern shook his head, flexing through his muscles to get some much needed composure to take on his opponent. A quick glance to the earth below and he saw bright orbs of light no bigger than a baseball, scattered through the pebbles that comprised the driveway and the flatter surfaces that made the fairgrounds thereby forming a grid of sorts that would be more than impossible to cross through without tripping over at least one of their rays; they surely numbered in the thousands. At that moment, with all these small explosive devices, he knew that Athis was playing for him alone; no outside forces were going to interfere with his destructive plan. Upon understanding his situation, he bent his legs at the knees so that the soles of his feet faced behind him; giving himself a bit of a shocking boost of speed through the sparkling fire of green particles, restoring his balance and giving him the opportunity to strike back. He took a heavy breath, taking in all that was occurring around and within him; the sight of darkened clouds as they rolled in the night sky, hearing the frightened citizens as they entered into a panic mode with little hope of escape, and the rhythm of his own hearts which ventured high as he felt himself enjoying the weightless feeling of flight, this ability that the ring granted him. He pulled his fingers closely to the green centre of his hand, flexing over top of the two finger bundles his thumbs as he prepared to make himself felt on the stage. His head was tipped down low, aimed as it were towards the opening he had moments before had been skyrocketed out of; arms firmly at his side, legs banding close together, torso stiffened up, and he was ready to make his way inside.

Athis stepped forward on the stage, clenching his teeth down and looking upwards as the spirals of green energy emanated outward in large blending waves from the centre dot, this pure emerald green source of the Lantern's light that he had made itself an enemy of him. His hands began to charge up rapidly, engulfing the entirety of the appendages in a blistering strength of light in preparation of this short sighted attack. Iota swivelled back his ring fist, pulling it back at the angles his arm enabled so as to deliver a punch though not just any punch; the swivelling strength of the energy around his punching hand started to form up into a harder less transparent form as it extended outward at angled to become massive, duplicating the details of his fists but increasing its size ten times over to become comparable to his body size. With a toss of his organic fist, the leading in construct of his followed through with its hit but the desired effect was lost in the conflicting energy forces. Athis smiled and formed a bubble like cage around his persons, flexing out from the circle orbs in his hands the necessary power as supported by his central chest battery.

Iota let out an agonizing scream as he found himself spirally out of control backwards; his construct, the fingers and the leading connection line, had shattered into glass spike pieces the blew out in all direction, sending back towards his ring a massive shockwave effect that felt like it broke every bone in his hand. His bottom went down into the section of seating, head and backside feeling the top rims of no more than six different seat tops and attached armrests before slumping downward into one of the chairs. His first sight was the damage caused by his break, stained blood red plastic bits of chair flowing outwards along with the shredded tarp that lightly floated down overtop of what its clean piece had once covered albeit a lot more stretched then it was previously. "A fist?" Athis mocked as the shield dropped from him, "how predictable…you couldn't even be half as imaginative as I would be with that kind of power…I know how things work, what they do," he teetered on the ledge of the stage plateau facing towards the section of seating that Iota had found himself cushioned in.

Iota shook his shoulders as he stood up, crushing through the thick tarp piece with his boots to feel for the ground. With an angry huff, he jumped for the rail that rode around the stage wall allowing for the power of the ring to enable such a leap from his central placement in the crumbling seat structures. Both feet came to land firmly upon the thin top with ring hand arriving at the centre of them and the other out to his back side used to balance his position; he was no more than ten feet away from Athis and could clearly see the joy that his old friend was having with all of this destructive behaviour. "I've got more!" Iota called out as he jumped down to the ring that circled the stage.

In a near instant of Iota coming to land, Athis showered the ground with his self-contained beams of light from his hands, using them to throttle himself upwards of two metres and away from his Lantern nemesis and towards the centre where his primary creation awaited its explosive date, blazing a trail of energy along the way that burnt the sand down to its glassy structure.

Iota let out a heavy grunt as he pressed forward his right leg to face towards his foe with his left leg fluctuating outward at his side, his hands then rose up to embrace another construct ripped from his mind; several small tube about the length of his legs arranged in a circle pattern connected together by three bands that road along their outsides squeezing them down to a more solid bigger tube at their centre. The back end of the conglomerate tubes was rather box like with two inch small tubes jutting out on either side and curving overtop the bulk of the box to become a hand piece that his hand quickly reached for while the other in behind clasped upon the trigger section that tapered down from the bottom of the ammo box; it was a Gatling gun formed in the illustrious green lantern energy composed by his mind. Athis let out a gasp of air as he hurriedly sought to make the shield of transparent light to save his otherwise fragile body. The barrels of the gun began to turn at an unwatchable speed, blending into one another to become nothing more than a smudge of green, though what came out of it was clear enough; pellets the size of pencils whipped out of the cannon's holes with its devastating effect being the shattering of the floor, indenting holes within the soft rubber so massive that one could stick their hands into it. The shield Athis had formed furthered this pattern of destruction to everything around him for the bullets that would come to hit upon its surface found themselves bolting outwards of its sides and pummelling against any plain of deflection whether it be the floor, the walls or Razzi's lifeless body which became chewed up with its watery juices seeping out from its gut where the bullets hit.

Iota let out another long heavy scream while his trigger finger became tighter locked to the trigger arm; however, all his efforts and willpower proved to be a falter as Athis shared his strength of will, perhaps even a stronger one as he opted to step forward into the wild fire, treading a path towards the edge of the stage knowing full well of his might; the young villain grinned as he felt himself gain the upper hand on the sweating boy Lantern. In a desperate effort, Iota let go of the gun's construction, allowing it to fade away into obscurity from the lines that had first created it and into the particles that were soon absorbed into his next creation; a long box comparable to the size of the Gatling gun plus one extra head. It was to be carried on his shoulder and had only one circle based hole at the centre of its small side facing Athis; a missile launcher waiting to be fired. Without hesitation, he let it go; however the distance at which he let such a thing fire was less than admirable. It was the hardest and most powerful construct he could think to create under this kind of pressure but as that was his body had little experience in handling the strength and magnitude of such a high powered velocity weapon which almost instantly laid down a devastating blow to his arm joints and throttled him backwards towards the wall with a force that saw his backside effortlessly crack a dent into its metal surface. The subsequent smoke from the fired cannon rose from the floor and showered its green mass all the way up to the rafters of the building. He moaned and watched as the intricate patterns in their thick styled bulbs and edges; the launcher had fallen to obscurity as his concentration had lost its grasp and so then did the smoky wisps upon the hearing of a familiar sound seemingly undisturbed by the effects of the launcher.

"Weak," Athis's voice rang through the clouds smoke and storms of sand; it was a single word but its tone and context, its power was quite negatively felt by the poor young Lantern whom had exhausted himself…but he was not yet ready to give up. Quickly, up onto his feet, Deryck made a mad dash towards Athis, taking quickly into a tackle around his lower torso only to find himself coming up against a near unmovable mass which had braced itself with arms poised to clasped down upon Iota's shoulder and pressure him downwards to the floor though such a desired effect would be quite the task even with his power, "it's almost reached critical mass," Athis leaned in his head to the side of Iota's who had gnashed his teeth down tightly and boiled as he pressed forward with his hopeful tackle, "I will have absorbed the entire city's light and then I will unleash it back on them…this entire city populace will be levelled because of your failures…."

"You're just sick," Iota swiftly pulled back with one uneasy step then went up for Athis's head thereby throwing the light powered boy off balance when his pressure downward lost the mass that conflicted it. Athis head fell forward enabling Iota to throw an upper cut to his jaw but the finality of the punch proved to be less than expected as the flash of light through darkness eclipsed Iota's sight of vision once more and he felt the force, the raw energy of Athis's generated hand beams pummelling him in the chest returning him through the air once more but he would never reach between the goal posts that the outer beams formed instead slamming him against the one of the wide varnish concrete pillars that supported the inner structure just above the seating area. His back just collapsed as the force of the blow carried him onward beyond the strength that the pillar posed, tossing him away like trash to the run about walk way that circled the building. There, on the floor, he slumped, his legs all scrambled up together and one shoulder aimed to the floor, his hands too shredded up to even attempt to prop himself up, not that he had much of a choice in the matter, "I can't take him…" he batted out from heavy breaths. He scrunched up his ring fist and looked at the gentle glow of the ring, "he's too powerful," he conceded but suddenly he felt the urge to get up and he did so sloppily, darting into the shadows that pillars casted along the floors, using it to his advantage, slipping to the floor whenever necessary to use the brim of the top chairs to obscure the view that Athis would surely have seen from his position at the centre of the ring.

"It doesn't matter where you hide," Athis called out, "I will find you." But despite his claim, he turned his attention away and towards the barrel, his construction that was due to unleash its radiation of light acquired through multiple sources that city presented, "we're nearing critical mass," he commented as he raised his right hand just around the beam, "can't you feel it?" he led into a pause, "I have no doubt that you'll survive…but just think of what I'm doing here for you. Tragedy at its finest! If I can't be the hero I should have been, the least I can do is convince you of the great power you now harness…you can be as great as I was to be."

"You," Iota grunted out from his sore throat knowing full well that his voice would never reach, "I don't ever want to be like you." He carted his body slowly along the floor till he thought that he had been moving long enough, coming just short of the opposing side of where he first began this less than covert running. He knew he had been making plenty of noise along his trail but he tried ever so hard to remain still in his movements to limit the pounding noises his body made when it dropped. What became the most worrisome for him as he sat down was the cascading shadows of the pillars, such a powerful beam of energy at the centre of the coliseum would have certainly pinned his image but then he had to realize that the only way to have seen his movements would be to have a bird's eye view for there were no walls to the outside world and upon this realization, he slumped down in the corner edge formed by the interior side of one of the pillars and the top part of the one of the back row chairs nearby, letting his head slump down in the crevice therein so he could catch his breath and perhaps present one last fighting effort, "why are you making me do this?" he clasped his left hand at the wrist of his right, letting that glowing ring hand be limp on the swivelling pivot that the wrist made in its stationary position. "A lot of people are going to die…don't you think I know that, this is what he wants…this is what you want, make me the better hero," he scoffed, "you don't sound all that different from him."

Iota raised his chin up, using his hands, flat against the ground, to rise his head up just above the chair tops to get a glimpse of what was happening below. Athis's backside was to him, though he looked properly frozen in such a position with his hands boiling around to the beam of energy that continued to soar into a strong stream of energy. "If I could distract him somehow," he slumped back down, looking back to the ring for advice, "I need something." What had occurred to the ring, and what had failed to reach to Iota in communication was something purely from his nightmares. His breaths turned shallow while his eyes began to curve into open balls, the stretch of the mask's rectangular slots rotating around to reveal the milky green stained white that covered his real eyes; all this a reaction to what was happening to his ring hand. It suddenly grew hard, impossibly hard, and yet so smooth. It was sheen of emerald quartz that began firstly at the ring but grew out to encompass all of his fingers, slipping into the cracks and becoming amazingly thin and smooth as though saran wrap was being embedded into his hand. "No…" he cried out silently in fear as the ring made his organic body a part of it. At a heightened pace, the green jewel that the ring was siphoning out with vigour crawled up his arm making the joints therein quite the stiff but soon alleviated when it came to be reduced to its wrapping taste, "stop it please," he winced as it climbed across the breadth of his chest and engulfed his other arm along with the majority of his torso. Feeling defeated, he reached his hands to his face pulling away at the quartz crawling up his neck all while watching the illustrious covering reach to the tip of his toes. He gurgled a bit and attempted to subside the rings desire to engulf him but his fate had long been sealed the moment he turned things over to his all to present friend inside his head, "Kindred Emma," his last words rang out as the emerald sheen came to harden within his mouth believably taking away what voice he had. It was all to frantic, and there he was wrestling his legs up against the back of the chairs and reaching his arms down the floor and around the pillar in hopes of overcoming whatever possible pain might be endured upon complete submerging. But then he fell down to his side and away from the pillar's side, looking across the floor of the walk away and through four of the rounded ledge pillars to take a look through the shade of green that had taken his eyes and at that moment he felt it necessary to cry but could neither know of or create tears to convey his sadness but such an emotion was quickly lost in light of a shocking discovery for the ring's reasoning.

"Nice shade of jade there Deryck," Athis commented as he turned away from his pet project, looking up to the sky as the emerald clad hero made a light descent down from the top walk way, standing all proudly, feet straight and hands casually crossed along his chest. "But I'm still going to beat you to a pulp," he nodded his head and waved up that hand again with that insinuating finger; he meant it. The Iota image came to a stop at the edge of the stage no more than ten metres away from Athis at the centre, "if that's how you want to play it then," Athis continued in his mocking tone as he charged up his fists once more. In a short moment, the emerald hero smashed into overdrive, driving himself above the ground a mere centimetre in flight to reach Athis and land a cold clean uppercut to his head and rip off all that armour of his, to show him who the real hero is. The thin boomerang shape of light energy unleashed itself at Iota with an eager force to destroy but at its contact it proved to be anything but lethal, tapping upon the outer ledge of the emerald armour and smearing upwards just as he was making headway towards the centre of the stage. Taking advantage of the hit, Athis quickly lunged with his hands ready to make the tackle and final blow. He clamped his jaw down tight and grabbed hold of Iota's sides under his arms to keep him steady. With a short lived grin upon seeing the dazed if not non-complacent face of Iota, he dropped the young lantern to his knees and revved up his power gauntlets in preparation for the destructive blow on either side of his head, "thought I'd let you'd try to live through this one, but with any luck I'll be able to rip the ring from your shattered corpse…." The palms of his hands made their way to the ears and the electricity therein and foamed out and around the young man's head but every so often one of these beams of light worked their way through his skull and connected at the centre; however it was upon this connection that he knew something was not quite right with the entity in his hands. The body of Iota's began to crack, chunks of the emerald armour began to tear away and crumble from the head down; it was as though this was in fact a jade statue, one that so easily scattered what was left of its remains within the sandy grains of the stage surface with little to no shine or glow. "Deryck?" He screamed, "Deryck!" he cried out once more as his hands fluttered together clawing at the sides of the opposing forearm as the rocks and rubbles of the jade creature began to crumble to the floor with their ominous thuds to be embraced by the comfort of sand.

"I'm here!" Iota's shout came off from Athis's backside forcing the villain to turn as quick as he could but it just wasn't fast enough for the moment his eyes had locked upon the emerald image he saw their only to be a fist aimed at his head. And with a snap of his emerald supported arm to Athis's head, Iota had done away with the villain believed invulnerability; he had tricked him into the duality that existed inside his head, dividing the personalities at war within to become their own for a moment of maximum confusion. Athis lay on the floor, curling up his head to his legs as best he could though not completely out of commission but nonetheless quite dazed by the turn of events. Iota stepped up along the side of the barrel and let himself feel the calm breeze as the emerald sheen reverted away from his body, bringing back the skin in his fingers and face as well as pulling through with the black of his garments while retaining only the green in his thick gloves, blocky boots, shoulder caps, emblem and mask. "Let's not ever do that again," he raised his ring fist, aiming it towards the rubble which was falling apart to its sketch lines in the process of following a light trail of energy up to the ring where it merged back in fluently.

"No, I can't lose," Athis rose back to his feet and stumbled his way towards Iota with his hand about ready to gear up and try the close combat thing once more with the intention of being absolutely certain that nothing of his enemy's head existed when he was done. The orbs within his hands began to shine up as he raised them up to his head level, watching with a glee as the electrical rods began to dance in between, zapping back and forth and within each other. But this time round, Iota felt no need to run off for relief; this was the time where he was finally standing up on his own. His ring hand raised, its sparkled it shine and in the first stride that Athis took at him be produced a set of vice grips that moulded perfectly around his enemy's hands like bracelets, connecting them by way of a steady foot wide beam in between that had at its top near the centre a thin cork screw line that tapered off into two splitting ends; handles waiting to be turned. Upon discovery, Athis lit up in rage as he continued to stumble into a collision course with his foe, prepping his light conduits even further to make an impressionable mark upon Iota but such attempts proved futile when Iota threw one more punch to the boy's head, crushing his senses even further as he attempted to block to no avail. Iota made good on his time; he grabbed the sides of Athis's chest, thumping his finger upwards to keep the boy's arms raised so he could deliver a crushing knee blow upwards cracking the lower armour plating and reaching underneath to his all too human flesh causing a swarming pain that swirled upwards of his throat. "What? No!" Athis cried out with a grunt. He had fallen to his knees, right in front of Iota and he did not hesitate to place both hands on the handles of the cork screw and turn as hard he could. Within two seconds, the orbs hooked up in connection and everything went bright for moment followed by powerful pressure upon Iota's chest that sent him back first towards the stadium side he had not yet had the pleasure of meeting in this battle. "Agh…!" Athis cried out for a long time through the brightness as it became apparent that his systems had backfired blowing out the circuitry within his armoured gloves. Unlike the last time when he had hit the surrounding wall and slumped to the floor, Iota landed squarely on his feet and worked his way towards the stage centre where Athis laid knocked out on the floor, black and grey billows of smoke emanating from the top of his gloves.

Standing over top of Athis, Iota dropped down to one knee and pulled up his ring hand with the intention of throwing down one more punch though this time round the end of his fingers were to be filled with three inch high spikes that layered along the line of his knuckles. The pain his human body had suffered did not matter at this moment, with teeth clenched and eyes fixated on the head of his target, nothing else quite rightly mattered to him. "No Deryck don't!" a thick familiar voice sounded off from the side. A slow turn of his head and he saw there, coming down to the stage side, the elder Lantern Kyle dressed up in full gear with his hands poised upwards and ahead of his own body, fingers spread out telling him to stop from his decisive and final strike.

"I…" Deryck gulped as he refocused back on Athis's face, the closed eyes and the wavering bent up lips, "If I kill him, then this thing won't go off…its connected to him, I have to!"

"No Deryck," Kyle approached him with heavy steps that became punctured into the rubber of the floor, "We'll find a way," he contended the moment he came to a stop just a stride short of knocking into Iota's side, "you and me."

Deryck gulped down the sweat and blood layering in his mouth, nodding in affirmation knowing full well that his body just might not be able to take it anymore, but he was willing to try regardless of whatever unfortunate consequences may come as a result of it. "OK, Kyle."

"I've ran through this kind of thing before with an old enemy of mind," Kyle narrowed his eyes into Deryck's, "I know it's going to be hard but I need to you use your ring to make a containment field around this light beam and then multiply by at least a hundred."

"Thin slices?" Deryck questioned through heavy slices.

Kyle nodded in a positive manner, "we can't stop it from expulsing its pent up energy so I need you to support my shielding…are we good?" Deryck shook his head but once, straightening himself as best he could to show that he was fully ready and with that Kyle quickly circled around to the other side and quickly sent forth the majestic green shields which patterned themselves to the shape of the barrel and continued upwards to the sky where it tapered into nothingness. This was the first of many shields Kyle proposed when he slammed his feet into the ground with cleat like connections for traction, many more soon funnelled out from the end of ring to surround the first, then another to embed the second and so on, over and over with the thinnest walls he could muster with his will turning the straight beam of white into a sickly green that became darker and rarer, closer black than anything else. Deryck closed his eyes as he wobbled his feet down into position and rose up his ring to join him….

* * *

The early hours of the morning had been devoted to rest; it was unlike Deryck to find solace in foreign bed despite what Kyle said when he gave it to him. Therefore, whoever had laid him here to rest against his well was someone whom cared well for his health for the rest on this occasion would be necessary if he was to overcome the scrapes, bruises and assorted muscle cramps that inflicted his body with pain upon every movement. It was still the nigh time and it was certain that Deryck would be taking advantage of the day to continue his resting phase.

Deryck at the moment was wrestled in his sleep, tossing and turning the heavy blanket over top of him but he soon any peace to be found within this closing of the eyes was to be lost in a sudden second. His eyes bolted open suddenly followed almost immediately by a massive gulp of air, "what happened," his head raised up from the soft feeling of his fluffy white pillow. He was back to his usual wear, the long black garments, but that only served to prove that at some point he powered down his Lantern's gear to reside in a bed he hardly came to recognize as his own. He quickly straightened up his back to come sit upright where he puzzled the events that he believed to have had happened to him just seconds ago. Suffice it to say, he was a live and in good peace with himself which hopefully meant to translate as success on his and Kyle's part in extinguishing the explosion of energy that Athis so vehemently desired.

"Agh," Deryck moaned as he reached a hand back to clutch his back, "too many injuries in this line of work" he moaned through some rather dazed eyes, "…need sleep after all," he clutched his fingers on the edge of the green blanket and attempted to tug away at them but upon doing so he came to notice that the Lantern's ring around his finger was in a steady glow that shattered through the embedded log o in its surface. Too his shock, the voice of the ring was not within his head nor was he actively seeking its power so instantly his mind struck up to find conclusions to this strange occurrence, this life that the ring had taken on without his knowledge, was it this thing that had woken him so early before his sleeping cycle could have been completed?

It didn't take him long to figure out the source of this transgression for an ominous green glow had caught the corner of his eye. Deryck looked out to the side of his bed and along the breadth of his room where a figure composed in his hard emerald light stood at the centre just looking at him oddly. The figure there was certainly a girl he recognized quite well. She had long hair that curled around her shoulders and knocking along her sides to cover the sides of her head. Furthermore, she wore a single piece suit that was quite slimming of her muscular form; it was some sort of acrobatics' costume that left the hand and feet bare straight at the joint line leading in. With a simple brush of her hair to the back of her head, bending strands off her shoulder, he caught onto sight of her ears which narrowed in backwards to a point and right then and there he was certain of whom he was seeing, "Kindred Emma…."


	27. Interval 7 Part 1

Interval #7  
Volume 1. Story 6.  
The Hyperguards (Part 1)

* * *

Interval convinced himself that there was somewhere he needed to be though where he was headed wasn't exactly something that could have been planned in advance, not that he would have tried anyway. As he ran from the more glass and steel collection of buildings into the more rugged factory district with their brick laid monument buildings, he came to the realization that maybe he just was desperately grasping for some excuse to get him out of the home he had been staying at since he arrived in this backward century. He had no realistic complaint of his assigned caretakers; Iris and Jai, the children of the great Flash Wally West, were considerably formidable in their positions as combatants against crime as well as being suitable for taking care of him in so far as home making was concerned, not that he could not do so for himself. The only part of this whole arrangement and relationship that he held reservations about was the schooling that the two West's received while growing up into their roles, that of which he considers to be an antiquated form of morality that regularly placed them in serious risk of harm or death at the expense of saving the lives of strangers whom served a purpose that was little more than just existing. He had difficulty accepting this notion of selflessness that often inflicted them but it seemed that the more he made known his displeasure of the idea the more it would appear that Iris reinforced it when they were running together. Iris was the current Flash and perhaps the most powerful there was to date when comparing her connection to the illustrious Speed Force with that of her predecessors; as such, perhaps it was wise to pay heed to her teachings.

The scarlet colour of the Flash family were boldly displayed throughout his body: shin high boots, the stunted tight gloves that meagrely reached beyond his wrists, his cowl piece, as well as a body encompassing triangular piece that wrapped around his shoulders and aimed down to a blunted flat point at his waist line where it divided in to a thin lightning bolt design that rode over top of his upper leg joints like a belt. The rest of the uniform held to a straight black that blended quite well with the scarlet; however aside from such a gritty redefinition of the typical Flash costume, the boy was proud enough to maintain what was oft considered essential features of the Flash, that being the stylized logo: a circle of white within a raised black boundary with a shock yellow bolt of lightning striking through from one side to another. Additional associated costume elements included silvery circular pieces that connected to his ears with a small yellow metal bolts flaring out to the back of his head. To cap off such an arrangement were square goggle pieces, tinted a light yellow, giving apt protection to his line of vision.

The day was just kicking off when he had reached his destination, not that the sun could clarify such a time on account of the heavy reign of clouds that appeared to be rather transparent as though the sky were a clean white canvas waiting to be painted upon. He had come to a stop in particularly wide alleyway that stretched a hefty distance on both sides. At his back side was a metal wire fence protecting a lot composed of crumbling small stones and pebbles littered within shady grey dirt mounds; it was the old railway station that had since lost its purpose when the Atrac with its magnetized power rendered the classic styled trains obsolete. The broadsides of the tall buildings that formed the alleyway were built up with solid stone which were most probably flat and smooth up until the coat of paint was added; the white coat it wore was rather rigid and bumpy but still quite distilled to the face of the wall. The cement was not exactly an ideal running surface, it was a weak tar like composition, dark and straight edged no doubt when it was first laid, but today it had long suffered the vice of the weather which eroded and crooked itself into its sheen and split its materials into little viewable chunk which were all the more noticeable along the walls where a gap between the two was steadily forming. Interval stepped up along the wall on his left side, slowing down to a normal speed as he shifted the inner face of his palm to reach along the wall and gently move along it as he walked creating a rather bitter sound from the leather like materials of his gloves conflicting the coarse strength of the wall. He came to an abrupt stop about eight metres down the way, not to significant a distance considering the full length of the alleyway, where he turned about face to the wall, looking upwards to the top of its final floor as he pressed his other hand against it. Satisfied with his position, he stepped up the speed of his movements, gently crawling up to fast vibrations that spattered his molecules from their cohesion turning him into a blurry red blob of sorts…a few seconds down the line and the coverage of the stone wall had failed to prevent his entering.

Inside, he found himself to be in the familiar setting; a short distance ahead was a round hub a step from the rectangular straight walkway he was upon with a single steel sheen door at its back centre. It was a booth of sorts, a tube like construction the size of a single floor that had been cut just a little bit over halfway to make way for the connection with the metre and half wide walkway; it was big enough to fit a car upon its stage like surface. This was not the only booth however for there were two others to either side of him. The one to his left was the one of most proper note for it was the main computer hub. A white narrow plastic looking table ran near parallel to the walkway and carried on its back a flat monitor screen that embedded its sides into the curvature of the walls. The assorted keyboards, dials and touch pads with their glass tops laid on top of the table all loose like; a necessity in its owner's line of work which often required him to leave much of everything behind and move quickly. There was a rather dirty assortment with wires of various sizes and colours being pulled from behind the massive monitor, extending off the edge of the table to head down to the floor behind where they jumbled up together through a slot. Unlike the booth ahead however, this one had its central light bulb at the top of the ceiling off though he could still see within on account of the blow glow that some of the smaller desk items created along with their electronic vibrations.

It was the last booth that had struck him as being the most peculiar. It was similar to the other two with the circular thick white painted wall and an attaching thick painted orange base, but unlike the others this one was a little more serene with a table situated at its centre, a rectangular narrow structure like that of the one that supported the computer set up only a tad bit smaller since its smaller side was facing in towards the walkway thereby giving space on either side of the booth for people to sit down and perhaps enjoy a small meal and make small talk as was the apparent case for the person sitting there.

To Interval, she was a youthful looking girl, but this was more a result of the misunderstandings surrounding his own age. He conceded then that if he was to be compared to her then the only real difference would be experience; a fact that stuck with him when he encountered others considered to be his own age. Her hair was black and lacy, her chin angled to a point of ease providing a strong base for a symmetrical outline that was best conveyed in her tear blue dotted eyes and tiny flat nose. She wore a black jumpsuit of sorts, enticing her body in a sheen of a thick silky like material that nonetheless cut short on her sleeves and triangular pointed neck line. She was taking sip form a small blue chalice which Interval quickly understood to be a part of a set on account of the taller foot high cylinder that was most likely the pitcher. At her side, upon the table where her left hand sat, was a thin squared glass top device that was emitting images, no doubt words currently being read if one was to judge from the sway of her pupils from side to side oblivious of the silent entrance that Interval had made through the wall.

"Is John Thermos present?" Interval questioned her as he turned to face her. It proved to be a bad opportune moment to place forth a question without first gaining an acceptance of his presence for the words that he pushed out so quickly through his monotone voice startled her, forcing the drop of the cup from her hand to the table top with a splatter while the liquids once formerly belonging to the cup expended themselves from the tip of her lips and drooled down her chin. "Is he?" Interval continued to prod when he had gained her attention.

"No…" She blinked a few times with the awkward shake of her head. Her words drawled out for a long time as she attempted to annunciate clearly as the shock had taken away her calm pace of breathing, "he went to get something to eat…."

"Alright then," Interval nodded his head to her, "I shall return at a later date."

"No wait," she cried out before fumbling into a hush which she concluded with a small cough as she pressed her feet against the floor and pushed herself free of the table. After successfully wiping away the caramel coloured liquid drips from her chin, she turned her attention to the well-toned speedster in her presence and let free an enduring closed lipped smile, "he'll be back soon." Her words had become clearer in their singular enunciation but still lacked the proper will to make them concrete sentiments; regardless, she ventured in a question of her own, "why don't you come join me…and wait?"

"Very well," Interval nodded to her welcoming arm gestures and stomped his way towards her, taking to the black tube metal square chair opposing her own. He kept his chest a good distance away from the edge of the table, uninterested in bringing himself forward, and kept his hands firmly upon his knees caps with a back as stiff as boards; there just wasn't anything going through him.

"I'm sorry; would you like to try my drink?" She proposed with another smile as she drew herself in close to the table and prepared herself comfortably therein.

"No I'm fine," Interval swiftly commented, "I only drink water."

"Strange," she nodded as she looked away. She ran her index finger around the lip of the cup to rub away what excess moisture till remained before picking it up to examine what remained of its contents, all the time she felt this cold ominous stare that the young hero was giving her and when it finally began to claw at her with fear she felt it necessary to look up to him only to find their direct stare to be less than comforting. "I'm Jadelynn," she started up, "you are Kid Flash?"

"No," Interval sharply responded.

Her eyes widened up with the slight raise of her chin, "but you um…" she stuttered to get out her question, hand reaching up to grace the side of her head while her tongue fidgeted around, "you wear her colours, and that emblem, it's always been associated with the hero…."

"True," Interval started up in an informative tone, "I have thought it best to disassociate myself from the Flash Legacy as best I can without leaving it entirely. They are much too public with their personas and far too self-less in what they deem to be 'heroic' activities; traits that I do not readily believe define who I am."

"Why the costume then?" Jadelynn squeaked.

Interval blinked for a long moment before allowing the opening of his lips, "I didn't choose it. The uniform was given to me as it worked well for the events at hand [INT#2]."

"Well that sounds like an interesting story," Jadelynn squeezed her body up tight as she found herself piqued with superficial interest, "what happened?"

"It's not something I like to get into," Interval slowly raised his hands before lightly letting them drop upon the table top. His eyes shifted several times in a pattern of analysis, the girl across from him being the subject. She was slump back in her chair, biting her lip and pressing down against the front ledge of her chair, "It was given to me," he sighed, "When I left my home world-"

"Wait," Jadelynn gulped with an open shock inducing gaze, "you're from a different planet?"

"Yes," Interval answered in his straight voice hoping the girl would go back into ease so that he could continue his story, but she maintained this strange stare that oddly affected his ability to speak, though only slightly, "With my abilities, I thought I could change futures, mend lost time lines but I discovered that some of my calculations were off-"

"Are all the Flash's from a different planet?" Jadelynn snapped in with a question so boldly expressed. "I mean are you all like aliens where the super speed is the norm? Are you all aliens?" She became flustered with the questioning statements that foamed over the recesses of her brains but this all came to an abrupt stop upon seeing the unflinching stare that Interval had mustered towards her as though there was much great displeasure, "not that I'm opposed to aliens," she straightened herself into the back padding of her chair, "I support their rights to live here…especially if their saving us on a daily basis," she trailed off with a whisper as she looked away.

"No, I was born here and I assure you," Interval narrowed in his glare, "I am as human as you are, I just happen to have a few connections and capabilities that you lack." He nodded with a long held close of his eyes, "my father thought it best to leave Central City, the home of the Flash, following the death of his wife."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jadelynn lowered her head while drawing her body in closely; conveying her sympathy through body language for the apparently lost loved one. To her surprise however, Interval continued on with his running sentence as though this sentiment had been ignored somewhat dampening the feelings that she thought could be shared.

"He took me with him to the farthest reaching human based colony, a dwarf planet that had been classified Petrus."

"Human based colony?" Jadelynn's face scrunched up in puzzlement.

"Oh," Interval slumped momentarily, "it's ahead of your time, by twenty six-hundred humanity will have populations in over six individual planetary systems."

"So you're from the future?"

"I'm not the first of the speedsters from the future to reside in this century," Interval obliged with an answers, "there have been others, travelling through time is an element of adventure that all speedsters from the Flash line take for granted, as it is inherent in our abilities."

"I don't understand," Jadelynn shook her head, "I though you speedster's just ran really fast."

"That is a key part of our abilities, however it is the methodology of these abilities that makes travel through the time stream possible," Interval made his right hand as flat he could at a straight vertical angle, finger tips point straight ahead towards the girl, "most persons perceive that our abilities are solely kinetic in origin, that we require friction in which to effectively run, which is true for the most part since such a process requires normalized movements initially; however, we experience a drag in this process," he slowly dragged his hand along the top of the surface the width of his body letting the thin plastic feeling gloves stick along the surface with a bit weight pressured against it. "In order to pass through the obstacles flowing against us, it is regularly required that the molecules of a speedster's body be vibrated at a successive rate."

"An obstacle... like say the sound barrier?" Jadelynn furthered the conversation along.

"The sound barrier is less an obstacle for a speedster than one would imagine," Interval returned his hand to the start of the imaginary circuit line he had formed along the table, "when it comes to travelling through time, capable speedsters can move in excessive speeds that defeat the speed of light and at that point no friction exists," Jace hovered his hand along the table at a much quicker rate than before however the only response he could get out of Jadelynn was a slapped hand to the corner of her forehead, "the image you see of me currently is actually an image of me from the past," he helpfully explained, "light takes time to travel from where I sit and into your eyes. It is my connection to the Speed Force which enables me the ability to transcend that speed and with the proper vibrations, circumvent the aura of time."

"And this connection to the Speed Force," Jadelynn returned to her smiling happy form, "how is it that you all get 'hooked' up, if you know what I mean?"

Interval briefly sighed, sending a steam of air through his nostrils, "that would require a complex set of equations as well as a rudimentary knowledge of physics…to say the least; I could accomplish such a task if provided with the adequate tools to show the work, though I doubt that you would understand very much of it…it would be a poor waste of your time." Jadelynn gulped and nodded her head, turning away her attention from the strange scarlet and black cladded speedster for a moment of recollection and solace that found her staring at the floor; this boy seemed to her as being one devoid of human emotion, an alien regardless of what physiology made up his body. Recognizing her distaste however, Interval thought it best to entertain her in furthering the conversation towards something that was interesting him rather than what had taken her as a deductive study of his personal existence, "how is it that you came to be in company of John Thermos?"

"John?" Jadelynn's head popped up along with the raising of her brow, "my parents…" she stuttered as she rearranged herself upright in her chair, "my parents were agents with John in the NSA. They passed away when I was five on one of their missions," she paused for a moment with a slightly wavering eye lids along with a dipping chin. She had half expected a response from him, something akin to sympathy or perhaps some empathy but all he seemed to do was flex his fingers, collapsing them at the knuckles under his palm and then back out straight again; he was bored, "I hardly remember them," she tipped her head up with a small one sided smirk, "John had been taking care of me in their stead, treating me like his own child."

"And what a fine child she has been," The front part of this sanctuary, the flat side facing out into the alley way, appeared to be opening at the end of the smooth floor board that ran the entirety of the room's centre. Two thick doors pieces slid away silently from another at the centre, greased from the constant use, revealing a foot deep indentation in the wall that lead to a single micro thin film like wall that pictured a reverse image of the outer white painted wall with its coarse bits that showered its surface, but there was something quite wrong with these bumpy features, they weren't really bouncing out from the surface as was the case on the other side. In that moment, the talking figure stepped through the image, slipping through an energy field that built up a wave of the white tinted particles that then fluctuated outward from his complete humanoid figure; it was a holographic wall, a construct of nothing more than lights.

Jace had to look over his shoulder to his backside to see the man, a familiar figure, John Thermos, whom he had recently worked on cooling down a situation that had afflicted him and his services as a computer hacker and chip supplier; in a way, his abilities had been used by the man, but at the same time this person had a crafted intelligence that he found all to intriguing amongst all the mediocrity that dominated this era in Earth's history. The two of them at the table became fixated on the tall dark man, dressed in a long deep blue jacket which had quite the wide lapels that glinted white as though composed of a strange plastic like fabric; a higher quality garment that was shared to his slick darkly tinted shoes and pants. He had very short black hair, nearly shaved, a crew cut of sorts that brought the attention down to his strictly brown oval eyes. His jaw line was quite embedded into his face, running upward along the sides of his nose making him appear all the more military like his in demeanour, especially as his hands came to clasp one another behind his broad back when he stepped in suitably to encounter the two at a level plain. "And what a fine woman she is becoming," he smiled with a nod.

"John Thermos," Interval abruptly rose from his chair and stood to attention at the edge of the circular platform to look down to the intimidating man who in turn looked to him from his position along the walkway. The door behind him gently slid back into place, its metal clamps blending into one another to become the solid chunk that defended all that happened within.

"I was wondering when I would get to see you again, knew you'd be back soon enough," John bowed down a bit, nodding in affirmation of Interval's appearance, no less applauding the boy's ability to bypass the meagre security that such a simple wall provided, "though I suppose there must be a reason, and what might that be?"

"It's about the missile you had me prevent from its test launching [INT#6]," Interval watched John as he marched away to the booth opposing the one he stood in, treading softly with a simple step onto the orange platform where he was greet the computer systems there with his touch, "I must admit that I have become intrigued by your strategy in preventing acts of terror, especially considering your declared history as one whom supplies terrorists with access to their weapons."

"At a price…" his voice trailed off before kicking up, "is there perhaps a more exact detail that interests you?" John waved out his right hand to its farthest reached the edge of the computer desk. He let his left hand drop down to the surface and tapped upon one of the thin sliced computer tablets with its smooth glossy top which immediately powered up in a thin streak blue neon energy light that ran around its rectangular perimeter.

"You were concerned about a particular chip that you created, one that would not be used for terrorist purposes, rather you understood that your buyers intended to implement the powers you supplied them with," Interval stated in earnest as he stepped down onto the bottom floor and proceeded into a path that placed him in direct conflict with John's backside if he continued forward, "you've given them missile plans to defunct grids and rockets that may or may not explode at the moment of launch…isn't that damaging in of itself? Couldn't you have just given them plans to build, well," he scoffed, "anything not so much so?"

"Keep in mind that they threatened to break my limbs," John swiftly responded as he leaned forward to the massive screen with both hands now planted against the table surface. The screen lit up in a lower frequency blue than that of the numerous small electronics along the table surface, "most of those thugs and want-to-be crime bosses thought that I had been hired to build a chip that would give them access to much of the world's missile launching grid, but when I looked at the plans, I realized that this wasn't the case and that they, those thugs, didn't realize what they were making…."

"And what was it?" Interval deviated from his path at an angle, stopping when he came to John's left side where he too looked up to the screen.

"Weather modulation," John looked down to his speedster colleague, "the chip was to give them access to weather satellites and ground towers that would enable them to control various weather systems…as I'm sure your storied history can attest to with someone like the Weather Wizard," he shook his head awkwardly as he turned to look back at the screen as the image that was upon it became clarified, "but more or less on a grand scale."

"Where I'm from, weather modulation was a common practice," Interval contended as his arms came to cross along his chest, "but it had to be synchronized with the planet's natural weather systems in order to be effective."

"As is the case here, you can't exactly have a heavy rain storm without acquiring the right amount of precipitation," John replied. The screen had upon its viewing surface ground like colours, the various shades of brown moulding outward into the patches of heavy green with the occasional spatter of blue that followed rigid lines; rivers and inlets that divided the land mass portrayed. The earthly tones were regularly interrupted with the cold images of steel and brick that were portrayed through blocky splotches of grey. The cities portrayed from this satellite image were obviously that of the twin cities Central City and Keystone city, separated of course by the thickest of the blue lines, the Mississippi river. As was necessary for all analyses, the space snapshot of these cities was divided into a series of small squares that were formed by thin light blue lines thus producing a grid overlay of the city.

"Why the concern then?" Interval continued with his prodding.

"It occurred to me that the person who purchased my services wasn't planning any such thing as a flood or windstorms as I had believed to be the norm," John straightened his back and circled his head along his neck, cracking the bones into a comfortable place, "the schematic I received were not about disturbing the natural weather system in such minor ways, in fact, it was just about getting rid of it completely."

"What does that mean?"

"They want to dry up the planet's ecosystems," John responded sharply with a slight gulp before turning his attention to the questioner, "turn this place into a red rock so to speak." He shook his head, "they want to destroy everything on the planet and I gave them access to the weather modulators across the planet."

"Let's find the chip then," Interval contended with a tempered monotone, "they may still be fighting for the real one with all the duds and missile grids you've been tossing around on their market. With my speed I might find it, just give me the places to search."

"I actually have little concern that such a plan will be implemented," John contested, "my education in the NSA gave me the ability to give them access to the modulators and towers, but I certainly did not give them the capability to do so. The current weather towers we have situated throughout the country would take month to generate the desired effect, so they had me design more efficient ones, weather spires twice the size of the towers, but even so, they would need to triple the numbers of the towers that currently existed and spread them evenly throughout the planet." John brought a hand up to the side of his head, pulling it down somewhat as his eyes wavered off into the distance as though searching for something in the image, "I've only been reviewing the calculations recently. It stands to reason that someone would notice if this was all going through, I would notice…I can't believe it even bothered me before now that I really think of it," he shook his shoulders, "it's just something about it I suppose, these gangsters I was working for are either brilliant or just flat out stupid."

"And what's this all about?" Interval shook a hand towards the screen.

"I've decided to roll back my territorial domain," John smiled, "I'm starting to like it here, as is Jadelynn, perhaps I could be of use to you in your endeavours," his arms slid around to his backside, hands clutching one another, "whatever they may be, good or bad."

"I'm not sure that The Flash will take to kindly to you watching us," Interval clutched his fingers loosely against his palm, "just what kind of footage can your satellite feed acquire?"

"I can witness your movements quite admirably albeit through image manipulation" John continued in an upbeat manner accentuated through his trite smile, "you're still a tough crowd to follow, one image of you there," he pointed to one grid point that was directly ahead of Jace's face before flying it across to the other side a significant distance away, "and now your suddenly here…." His voice trailed off as his face scrunched up.

"What are those?" Interval questioned as his face likewise formed up into a puzzling structure.

"Not vehicles, much to fast and to small. Under normal circumstances I would say that it was either you or the Flash," John hastily spoke up.

"I can see five of them," Interval swiftly responded.

"You two are the only known speedsters within the twin cities?" John dropped his arms down to his sides as he proceeded to brace himself against the table, glancing back towards the young speedster for a moment only to find him enamoured by the spectacle that had taken control of the screen. Blurs, movements of a strange kind, shifted throughout the cityscape, darting at oblique angles and the like; they were black like splotches that turned on a dime, appearing in one section of grid and suddenly reappearing in a part of another just in the way that he had described when referring to the Flash. "The numbers are growing…."

"Looks like ten," Interval commented in a hushed tone, "and growing."

"I'm not picking any particular details regarding the movement's origins," John narrowed his focus upon a computerized tablet that sat upon the desk displaying the analysis of the moving figures in an array of green numbers and heavily tinted images, "excessive speeds comparable to the Flash, though somewhat slower from my previous recordings…it's difficult to get a complete definition."

"The question I have," Interval bent out his elbows to allow his hands to reach for his waist line, "what is it that they're doing?" He leaned forward a bit, "they're tracing a path from the interior of the city to the suburbs and then heading back again."

"I'm getting a count of over four hundred movements in the last thirty seconds," John hurriedly made note of his findings.

"There must be a source," Interval looked down to the hunched John, catching his eyes upon the green lighting that emanated from the screen, "some sort of starting position, where these things arrived."

"I'm going to cycle back a bit," the tips of John's fingers began to trace a small circle upon the tablet screen, circling in a counter-clockwise direction as his eyes shifted up to the screen. Throughout the course of his turning the splotched movements of the numerous speedsters came to a puzzling stop, falling back as it were towards a central position where the hazard black lines became more solid and defined forming a rather strange black dot amongst the strains of grey that signified the city structure. He let out a heavy expulsion of air upon the realization, "that's Garrick Way, the major intersection where it hits with Lampert road…."

"That would be…" Interval stepped back a bit.

"If I was to take all of the geographic information of the twin cities," John nodded with a narrowing look to his new speedster friend, "then that would be the direct centre."

"Alright," Interval gulped as his voice picked back up onto the strong monotone so attached to his character, "there must be something there that is allowing them to exit into this realm, time or place from wherever it is that they come from." He raised a hand to cup his chin, letting his index finger pan down along his skin, "no doubt the Flash will have gotten herself involved by now."

"Do you still have the communication card I gave you?"

"Yes," Interval swiftly replied with an affirming singular nod, "I have it wired into my ear piece."

"Stay in close contact then, perhaps I can be of assistance in dealing with whatever this is," John turned his full body around this time as Interval was steadily making his way down from the stage platform that made the computer desk's booth.

"I shouldn't be long," Interval clutched his fingers to his palm as he found himself suddenly stunned into an unmovable position upon the conclusion of the small step down to the central pathway that trailed through the centre of the room. Jadelynn was looking at him oddly with a crook in her neck, leaning her ear ever so slightly down to her shoulder with scrunching of her eyebrows. Perhaps she had failed to understand the entirety of the conversation between the two or was intrigued but uncertain as to what she could say or do that would be beneficial to them; either way, he had to bide his time carefully, "it was a pleasure talking to you," he nodded with that absence of emotion that rightfully frightened her. With the simple pleasantries of saying goodbye successfully out of the way, he took to his fantastic speed, vibrating his molecules to achieve a connection to his source of power; the Speed Force. Before Jadelynn could even blink, the scarlet clad boy had left the hub leaving her speechless.

"Interesting fellow," John caught Jadelynn's attention rather abruptly as he stepped towards her with a small smile, "wouldn't you say?"

"He's weird."

* * *

"Yes Jai, I got your protein powder shake mix," Iris muttered lowly under her breath as the thumb of her right hand tapped away at a rapid rate against her mobile device, using the embedded keyboard that emanated through the glass screen to disgruntledly type in the message she hoped would appease her brother's nagging. She was a tall woman with strikingly firm limbs, a well-hones and slim body that supported her activities as the current Flash of Keystone City as in succession of her father whom previously honoured that role. She had long twirling hair, a flamboyant red shade that echoed and shined in her swaying movements while she her bright green eyes in their large oval frames. When she was not running around in a costume get-up, Iris took to a more modestly fitting black one piece suit with a high rising collar, cutting only around the tightness of her wrists and ankles, granted though, a bulky set up black three metal strapped boots filled up her lower limbs to a foot short of her knees. It was a necessary to her that these garments be worn when out and about since it was often that occasions would arise that required her to shirk her demeanour as a normal citizen and don her flash uniform; apparently, every millisecond counted. As had been associated to her for some time, and was oft considered casual throwback to an earlier era, was a black leather like jacket that rode tightly around her upper chest while fluttering outward past her lower sides, just barely tapping along the centre of her thighs. The metallic silver buckles, three in total, running down along one side of the jacket's front, rarely ever saw connection with the other side, left as they were to flail around in stride.

The day for Iris was just getting started, sort of; there was still an issue of finding something to eat. Jai was much too lazy to leave the house as it would distract him from his journalistic endeavours and after all, she herself was the one that required nutrition at a constant rate on account of the speedy metabolism. As such, she had been played into the disadvantageous position of gatherer for her household and though she had been doing so for a long time she often came to reminisce about her mother as a result, missing the way she would find a way to supplement her children's needs while dealing with a major superhero as a husband. Jai's complaining and misconstrued assuring words, geared for his self-interest of course, regularly snapped her away from those happy memories, tossing her into a bit of a rage that would only subside once the adventure of shopping was over and she was safely at home. Her left hand tightened around the cream coloured handles of her grocery satchel as she casually stepped up to a faster pace, though careful not to become side-tracked in her thoughts less she accidently tap into super speed realm that would certainly draw attention of the onlookers away from their palm devices. With a sturdy grunt, she slipped her own small palm held device into her jacket pockets and continued on her way, chin raised with some determination.

Central City was quite the clean place to live and was adequately spacious to suit its growing population. The concrete floor of the sidewalk had been smoothed out of its wrinkles when first laid decades ago and now even today lacked barely a crack of age to its foundation; it was a stained dark grey as though it was wet at all times although remaining remarkably dry to the touch. The seeming singular cut of the sidewalk slopped upwards at its edges facing the interior roadways, curving to a point near waist level of the average citizen where it then flattened out a good few inches forming a solid boundary line between the sidewalk and the often busy motorway which had become quite jammed in the recent hour on account of the hustle and bustle to get to their working destinations on time. Paradoxically, this was also a time for a number of people to relax and digest their morning meals. Theses such people set themselves up along the store front coffee shops and diners, taking a hold of rubber coated steel chairs outside next to the alternating plastic or stone topped tables where they were found conversing and enjoying themselves. Then there were still others whom had forgone the use the vehicle transportation but had no time for the pleasantries of a small meal, drink of conversation, opting choosing the method of walking for its implied exercise with the only drawback being their sense of navigation for their attention often got caught up in the excesses of holding drinks, assorted food items and mobile computers; all in all though, the multitudes of people in their cars, walking or enjoying a seated meal were quite happy in the canvas white weather they were experiencing.

Iris was among the people walking along the sidewalk; however, she was also among a smaller percentage of people whom were facing towards a direction that led to outside of the business oriented sector of the city, aimed as it were towards the suburban like areas where the multitudes of families resided away from the crowding noises of horns, people and factories that often left one feeling numb. To her left side was the roadway, a spanning eight lane straight line that along with numerous interlocking roads divided the city into proper recognizable regions. The number of vehicles in their assorted colours, thin sliced rubber laced tires and robust shapes steadily grew when a sudden stop had fallen upon them at the nearby intersection. At the start of each sidewalk lane, sprouting upwards from the foundation of the sidewalk, were thick round poles that rose a hefty distance before turning inward at a horizontal angle were at their very ends was a singular box shaped item with a singular bulb that fluctuated through the colours green, yellow and red with all implied symbolises to their appearances within. Additionally, along the top running of the pole, just above the hanging down light box, were green painted strips with bright reflective white painted words. The road crossing at a cutting angle in front of Iris was registered as 'Lampert Way' and the people ready to propel forward along its clean tar black surface had just been given the green light.

To her right side was one of those coffee house fronts with the overhanging green tarp roof that curled back into the building bringing shade to the group of weary legged people sitting underneath; they were so embittered in their reading and drinks that they hardly paid notice to the travellers crossing by not those such journey people in a hurry would take to kindly to those enjoying their morning brew. Across the way, up head, was one of the major banks on the far right side of the street which often drew attention to its monolithic structure; a massive formation of glossy shined brick composing its lower floors with all subsequent floors above holding to the modern image of glass placements within metal forged lines. Its height had placed it at an advantageous position throughout this city region, easily being recognizable by through the office buildings all around. The entrance way was always of special note on account of its more classical flair, comprising several pillars situated at the top of a low lying flight of stairs, hoisting on their back a traditional arching roof top with swivelling designs that ebbed free from the inner laid stone construct of the triangular top. In that moment of attachment to the design Iris had lost her thoughts and almost committed to the unthinkable. She would have to be slowing down soon, the end of this sidewalk was approaching and the digital sign just above her head on the stop light pole was pressing forth its red stopping hand; the sound of electrical humming cars were preparing to press themselves along Lambert Way and they would certainly not be stopping for anyone.

Iris was in a bundle of some dozen odd persons, all suited up in their fine business wear, mostly keeping close to slimming hues of black and a deep rare blue. With their thick collars, long well furbished ties and high end shoes, she was an oddity amongst the many with her one piece uniform and loose fitting jacket; standing out, just the way that she liked it. Her eyes hovered down to the foot thick white lines that produced a path from the downward divot of the sidewalk's end and lead across the street, a path she would soon be taking. As she pulled herself back up for a moment in preparation to stop, she felt an awkward bump forward that very much felt like a collision with strong shoulder. The man ahead let the small incident go holy unrecognized but she nonetheless felt somewhat horrible about brief touch of their persons. He was a tall figure comparable to that of her own height with dark facial features that matched his well fitted business suit which unlike those around, lacked the proper tie and collar much to her amusement; he was a young man and had a strong look of ambition. She smirked a little to herself as she wandered down to the man's shoes, catching the glint of light that spattered around the rounding end bulb where his toes were guarded. The final check for which she prepared herself well was the man's hands which politely lined the outside of his thighs; but as she drew her focus up along the long pristine pant leg she found the image to suddenly disappear from sight, disappearing into the air to reveal the distinguishing line of the dark grey sidewalk ledge as it head into a steep drop to where the tar black road existed. She reviled back into shock with a quick heavy breath as she realized the nearby car was running but no longer occupied, letting the current of his circular tire movements exceed itself on an awkward turn towards the sidewalk.

"Where?" Iris's head piqued up suddenly while her tightening hand suddenly felt loose around the satchel's handles. Her rate of vision spiked up to its higher volume of speed and all became clear in an instance. Through the access ways the cars formed in their jumbles, amongst the crowds along the sidewalks and within the coffee shops and diners there was a foreign element, a type of person moving at a speed that was nearly on par with the movements of her eyes instantly striking a line of fear down her backside that kept her stunned to an unmovable stone. She could not keep up with the number of them as they steadily increased to an impressive strength of force as they tore away at the bodies of the people living in Keystone city and carried them off to places unknown. "What are you doing?" She suddenly shouted as it became apparent that the people all around her had been lost to these black lined forces. The speed talk at which her words came out went unheeded and with no better option at hand she let the satchel slip from her fingers which soon compacted down into a fist. Under the middle knuckle of her hand was a golden flavoured ring, a circular top with a simple image upon its surface; the lightning bolt of the flash. With a split second twirl of her body, the scarlet clad flash costume bolted free from its constraints, flowing all around her as it came caught up in the small twister that she had formed. A quick transformation and Iris West had become The Flash, the saviour of Keystone City.

The Flash wore much of the distinctive imagery that made up her predecessors; the scarlet red tight shirt and pants segregated by a bulky black belt and buckle, the yellow shoes that reached just above her ankles and the gloves that outstretched further down on the outer side and flared out in triangular points of fabric and a facial piece that reached just above her forehead allowing her delicate orange hair to be free but non-the-less tied back behind her head in a single column. As was her distinguishing feature of her costume, the yellow lightning bolt that crossed along her chest lacked the control imprint of the circular white boundary. Furthermore, the jacket she was so comfortable to wear, was retained in the final appearance, buckles flailing and all.

There was little time left to fit herself comfortably in her uniform, allowing for it to reform around her body as she took into a long pace to reach for any senseless bystander before they would summarily be grabbed by the strange bodies that sifted through the air as she had done for so long in her role as the official speedster of this city. All drivers had been lost, vanished in mid-drive; it wouldn't be long before the ends of the vehicles collided with one another as the meagre forces of pent up inertia took into effect. The hundreds of persons surrounding the sidewalks and outdoor patio formation had dwindled down to less than ten by the time she had gotten active and they were just now recognizing the loss, what was happening all around her?

"Ah," The Flash let out a sharp scream as she felt a reverberating pain in her stomach that made her feel like she was on the receiving end of a hefty kick. Her arms tossed themselves outward and ahead of her body as she attempted to recuperate before she had regained her footing on the sidewalk she had moments before had been freely walking upon with not the slightest bit of fear. She shook her head and opened her eyes to look around once more, but it was too late, not a single person remained. Her breaths became sparse through a rather shallow intake, "who are you?" she cried out as she came to focus upon the centre of the intersection where a strange figure now stood. The cars slowly bonked into one another, displacing fenders along sides with minimal damage but nonetheless stopping the movements of the tires and leaving a tilted diamond shaped open space at the centre where the car bent outward and away.

The rival speedster was a tall, standing on a level comparable to her own but had outweighed her on a strong physical showing that was more so akin to her muscle headed brother Jai; broad shoulder line that lead into balloon like shaped upper arms and forearms the closed off with massive fingers. His legs were likewise fitting to his intimidating image, most certainly in the region of his feet which were at a conservative estimate two times the size of hers though the armour that graced over top of them was quite elusive in conveying true structure. The apparel of this being shared a similar image to that of the legacy that the persons called The Flash, most notably the deep scarlet colouration and the outwardly shooting golden lightning bolts from the side of his ears. The vibrant dark colour was present in his cowl piece, his upper arms to just past down his elbows, and down along his leggings while everything else was very much black. Around his knees where golden colour bulbs that led into inch wide steel grey coloured bands that circled around his legs rung by rung all the way to the edge of the massive feet, capped at the sole with the similar gold plating. The pattern was also prevalent along his forearms, adopting the circular bands that eschewed outward from a golden band of lightning cuffs. What had gathered her attention the most was what was at the centre of his chest, above the decal waving patterns of his thick gold belt; the flash emblem, the yellow flash of lighting that was well situated within the distinctive yellow boundary ball that appeared like a button the way it flowed out from his body. He just stood there, flexing out its limbs while staring down the flash with a slight tip of its chin downward at an angle.

"Who are you?" The Flash called out once more when she believed she had gathered the attention of the foreign speedster, "what have you done?" she questioned through a quieter tone as the fear within began to manifest itself in wobbly feet. The sound of footsteps immediately caught the attention of the rivalling speedsters immediately snapping them free of the stare and refocusing them upon a third figure in a split-second. Her head arched up to look at the pristine gloss of the bank building where a tubby looking man in a pale black fuzzy looking suit was making his way out from the shade of the classical styled triangular pointed roofing structure that sat above its luxurious entrance way. She didn't even need to get a full rendition of what this man looked like, who he was or what state of mind he was in, she simply knew that the speedster at the centre of the intersection would be trailblazing a path towards the man and he was much closer to him than she was. Her yellow boots kicked up into tendrils of lightning like energy while the muscles all throughout her body began to contort and shift followed by almost immediate propulsion forward, careful in her steps to avoid any serious trip up. The vehicles that cluttered the tar muck of the roadways fell short of being significant obstacles but the leaps over their hoods and close brushes along their sides produced milliseconds of disturbances that quickly added up, even more so recognizable as her eyes latched onto the humanoid image of the black lines several strides ahead of her, passing onto the obstacle free foundation of the wide sidewalk that surrounded the bank building.

Iris's facial features widened to their fullest extent along with outstretched arms, fingers bending into a claw like formation in preparation to grasp hold of the tubby man's body but the length of her long strides were no match for the swift movements of the kidnapper, she only arriving in time to catch the frightened dark eyes of the poor man for not more than a second before he whipped off into the air, gone like everyone else before. "What?" she spat out as she pulled a stop to all her gears. Her hands hovered out from her body while her head shifted its gaze from side to side at a slow rate, while still moderately fast to the less than speedster ready eye, in hopes of catching onto the trail of the victimized innocent and in a brief instance she did so, the tail end of her new rival's feet as they treaded around the bank building along the encroaching sidewalk. Forgoing the flat stone white panel steps of the bank building, she darted to the ledge along the line of the second step down from the top and vaulted herself over top of the slanting two foot high stone rim in a state of mind that thrived for a chase leaving behind her a steady trail of blood red and tingling snaps of lightning yellow energy.

The treading of her yellow boots blurred into pendulum swings along with the seamless sidewalks and glass decked buildings and their glossy stone flavours; speed was of the essence and this chase was wholly embracing it. So much so was the speed they were running that the time it took for light to reach their eyes slowed down to half its velocity at normal time rendering all images of their surroundings into passing blurbs of useless information, but as the two speedsters were running at a constant rate opposed to one another, they could easily make out one another in the distance however short that was becoming on account of The Flash lacking an adult sized tubby body to carry.

The chase had taken The Flash up the sidewalk parallel to the one she had originally been walking up in her civilian identity, as such, she was following in step at a successive rate towards her original destination; the suburban area where she lived. Head raised, she caught upon the muscle movements of her opponent, the straining line that rode vertically out from the back of his thighs and the shifting of his shoulders in line with keeping the body of the kidnapped man up close chest-to-chest, held up like a baby with legs lying limp around the sides. With each successive step she drew closer by miniscule integers. The glass, silver, steel and black rock moulds of the interior city were beginning to wind down towards more colourful excursions, dipping towards a more robust coloured cement colour that she interpreted as being strongly rugged to her friction filled steps. Additionally, at each side of the road was a cleansed green patch of floor that spattered through its many shades in dangling lines causing a noxious sensation throughout her stomach when she got caught up in its grass blade formation, she had never really gotten used to feeling that blurred environments incurred in her. Plastic brick overlays on standard box shaped townhouse became the norm during this long strip; white or black steel fences at the end of the grass lots fluctuated back and forth from their designs sometimes threatening to interrupt her concentration when the speed caused passing rungs to look like solid bars wholly lacking in any definition from post to post. It wouldn't be too long till she reached the comfort zone of wooden panel frames, long peach stoned driveways and blushing coloured plant life segregated from the grass lawns in their dirt mounds, but for now the focus was striving to reach the speedster now only a dozen paces away from her position.

"Stop!" The Flash cried out as loud as she could through the speed chat filter. It became plainly obvious that this Flash-like looking speedster was straining himself heavily to keep away from the grasp of the heroine, so much so that he appeared about ready to drop his load throwing a terrifying spin through Flash's mind but then again, he was a soldier and his mission would be accomplished; therefore, the man remained entrenched against his chest.

The wide stunted peach toned driveway existed as it did much for every other home within the neighbourhood vicinity; a long strip of houses on either side of the two lane road moulded up in either brick or wood panel overlays of their otherwise straight up steel constructs. The environment around her became clearer as she recognized the destination of this muscular assailant, "subject person Adam Homfeld, returned to building number 7674." The words finally reached The Flash's ears drums after a long pause of silence following the movements of his mouth; the sound barrier had still been broken between the two. She came to a resounding stop at the edge of one such driveway, feet just balancing on the slanting curve of the flush grey sidewalk leading into that darkened road composition; for whatever reason, she felt that this gathered person was somehow safe for now. She watched from her position as the black lined blurb of speed vibrated to an unimaginable rate, flowing through the solid oak red painted door that led into the house. The house's remarkable architectural features were cloned with the surrounding homes, being at most two stories high, supportive of multiple rooms, dual garage doors, a stone path circling around the small flower filled garden from the drive way to the entrance on the small porch, and a sizable window front that gave view to and out from the spacious living room area. The horizontally placed wooden panels that decked around the house were painted beige, a light brown that was accentuated darkly in the trims around the windows and embedded in the indentation that was the steel garage doors. She simply stood there at the end, looking up the empty drive way and retracing the path taken; the fast running figure and his victim had traversed up the side of the driveway closest to the front door which stood on the opposite side of the driveway and flutter inside with little problem.

"What is going on here?" The Flash let her guard drop down for a moment, letting her hands gain some grip on her knees as she bent over to recuperate some lost energy from the fast paced excursion that took her from one half of the city to the very end in a matter of seconds. The perspective of time skewed back into his natural orientation but this shift couldn't have come at a better time for the slow growling words of a disgruntled man suddenly spiked up to the pace it was meant to be heard at. She turned abruptly to her backside, mouth gaping open and eyes narrowing in upon the image of a man pushing himself forward onto the lawn that front one of the aforementioned near identical house across the street, albeit with some of its own minor adjustments in the coloured arrangements, holding to a more delightfully dark blue as its whole.

"I don't care Renee, she can't be keeping us here…she just can't!" The man exclaimed with some distaste as his feet took him to the grass, disrupting the flow of its green blades. He was a tubbier fellow, even more so to that of the previous one carried away and considerably less dressed in certain areas; the black dress pants had been retained along with the shoes but was wholly lacking in the top region, taking to a more nonconformist opened buttoned up collared shirt that revealed a rather fleshy stained undershirt. His hair was thinning at its centre, a brazen brown that was hovering towards the lightness that grey had dictated to it, pudgy around the cheeks which served to making his white teeth more so glimmering when he smiled; a thickly nose and eagle looking dark eyes rounded out his full appearance but the heroine nearby could not help but focus upon his sausage like fingers as they wobbled forward and back with his bodily movements. He was no doubt disturbed, anger being on the tip of his snarls, and thus could quite easily be declared as being one of the many people who were seemingly picked up by the rampant speedsters and returned to their homes against their permission. "What have you been doing?" he waved out an assertive hand towards the scarlet clad speedster whom looked back with shock, "you got something against us now!" he sparkled with rage as he hit the middle of the slumping front lawn, other hand firmly forming a fist that bubbled with blood underneath the skin surface.

"Sir," the Flash started up with a graceful raise of her hands, disheartened that anyone could believe she had done such a thing to so many people in such a short span of time. The time for explanations however was put the rest the moment another one of the muscular solider like speedster appeared in its full armoured get up that paralleled The Flash's design. The slipping in of this murderous looking man instantly threw her into her slow perspective vision, stretching the minuscule amount of time before collision into a more spacious span that felt more like ten seconds which thusly gave her a moment to understand what was occurring and perhaps make an effort to step in to prevent what could only be deemed as being inevitable.

"Subject persons Janus Grover has left his designated building number 7765," the towering speedster came to a stop and leaned in over top of the angry man in mid stomp, "Subject persons Janus Grover has disobeyed direct command. Subject persons Janus Grover is sentenced to death," The Flash gasped as the words reached her and in a monumental moment she made a quick jump from the frictional forces that granted her the early boosts of speed and tapped into the realm of the Speed Force in order to reach for the two men a short distance ahead but there was truly nothing she could do; a single silver ring bound hand vibrated swiftly through the rage filled man's chest and clenched down on his heart causing a rupture that killed him almost instantly without even a notice, "Subject persons Janus Grover has been deleted."

"No!" The Flash propelled into a leap that sent her flying into the now lifeless body of the deceased Janus Grover as the murderer quickly side stepped back to its original traction and darted in full frontal movements down the sidewalk lane and into the far off distance. She gulped with disgust as the velocity of her knee caused a crushing force against the middle of the fallen man's chest instantly making her feel some regret as she pulled herself away from the Speed Force connection to re-enter real time; however this proved to be an inopportune moment for there was a mother and her children, no doubt the family of Grover, poking out from the open door to look down in horror at the fallen patriarch and the super hero towering over top of him; she could not handle the look of their long faces for long and quickly sought out a pursuing trail this time with a violent anger that would keep her entrenched in the necessary forces to bring these rivalling speedster's to justice.

The Flash pounded the ground of the sidewalk with her eyes wavering up ahead for brief glimpses of what awaited her leaving her arms to trail in behind forming an almost triangular pointed wind tunnel in her wake of blurring reds and snippets of yellow. Her jacket had become much tighter around her upper body and flared even more so than it regularly done so; she was mad at herself and as such cared not for the discomfort that the tightening cloth of her uniform was doing to her body. But as she approached the end of the city, where the fancy homes cut steeply into lengthy highways with flush planes of grass and parks on either side, was a sight that caused her to slow down and gasp. "What?" she bellowed in a silent jeer as her steps became little more than dragging walk, clunking against the hard crusted dirt ground just outside the wide panning highway roads where the abandoned vehicles left to their ghostly caretakers. "This can't be," she shook her head in dismay as she came to a stop. Ahead of her was not just the one speedster who she had taken chase to or the similarly clad one that had killed that poor man who felt imprisoned in his home, there was also not just several of them all line up, no there was what looked to be a hundred of them all lined up along the cutting line of the city, standing apart from one another less than a metre, covering any exit that any person could hope to make from the ground floor. They stood there with their feet paced out to the length of their elbows and elbows bent so that their massive hands could clamp down onto their waist lines; they all stared her down but did not so much as flinch a little bit from their stationary positions, "this is impossible," she huffed as she decided to start back pedaling a bit, keeping her wide eyes focuses upon these intimidating Flash lookalikes.

* * *

Interval's steps came to a slowing stop upon reaching his destination, the centre of where the forces had first made themselves known. He took a look through the area, the highways, the coffee houses and diners and the massive bank structure at the corner of the street; all had been abandoned in a hurry, even the vehicles as so which were left to their own devices having long since collided into one another, assuming positions that left little reason to be faltered upon. He paced himself up along the sidewalk that moments before his caretaker had walked along; interested as it were in the disappearances, "Flash?" he graced a hand to his ear, feeling around for the button that sat on its curvature, "Flash? Can you hear me?" he called out once more. He came to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk, examining the clean cut of the white lines that led the walkers across to the other side. He quickly came to understand that his call wouldn't be heeded and made the decision to tap into his other source. His hand reached back to the device surrounding his ears, nimbly working his fingers around the control section, first tapping and circling it around to reach the desired frequency, "John Thermos?" he questioned out with a bit of a hunch in his neck, "John Thermos?" he called out once more before letting it pan into a long wait that pained him as he received nothing more than a static laced result. A drop of his arm and a heavy sniff of the air and he realized he was on his own from this part out, "where did everyone go?"

"Subject person Jace Allen has been located," a voice snapped off in a strong monotone instantly causing the young speedster to circle his head in all direction in search of its source. He quickly came upon the middle of the intersection where a tall muscular figure stood, instantly recognizing the scarlet red cowl, arms, leggings and chest bolt logo as being true emulations of the Flash while the circling metal band around the lower regions of his limbs being an entirely new addition that the Flash legacy would have never taken easily to. "Requested to apprehend. Orders received," the voice continued as its owner focused narrowed upon the boy at the end of the sidewalk whom returned the stare with a heavy growl. Recognizing the threat this being, Interval quickly blazed a trail down the crosswalk on onto the adjoining sidewalk down the other end, aiming towards the less than homely atmosphere generated for his stay here in this century, the West home. There was only one strangling feeling running through his head: perhaps The Flash is waiting for me. The 'perhaps' part of the statement became increasingly strained as he came to recognize that there was more than one person pursuing him at a comparable level of speed, indeed the number had risen to five and was steadily growing with every passing intersection and into the more robust region of townhouses.

"Agh," Interval let out a grunt as he circled around a protruding fist that punctured in his path. His speed had successfully given him the opportunity to dodge the thrusting movement of the muscular arm but not by much. A quick look back saw another scarlet and black clad speedster slipping out from the alleyway with a foreboding image that dictated a desire for a fight; there was however something quite strange about this being and in fact all the other speedster taking to his trail. Though he paused for only a moment in his dodging patter he saw along the cheeks of his new opponent trails of moisture slipping down from underneath his cowl piece, furthermore he looked rather tired, exhausted even, for the lunge to hit him appeared more like a desperate attempt more so than that a proper coherent strategy on the part of the collective lookalikes. This particular point was crucial to the young speedster's deductive mind for while speedsters of his calibre did get tired, it rarely if ever manifested itself in tears of sweat and pain such as it inflicted the lot of them; their acquiring of rivalling power could not have been through selection of the Speed Force, something about this rung in his head as being manufactured, an artificial attempt to connect and now they were suffering from the lingering after affects that such a false connection was known to cause. As he picked back on his speed his mind wavered back to the recent dealing with the stolen vial of Velocity 9 [INT#4] which was a noted serum for making such a false connection. Use had often lead to very detrimental side effects including but not limited to an improper hyper metabolism that drained the body of its nutrition in variable sectors at quicker rates than others thereby preventing proper operation; at least this was the case with the first formula produced, the one stolen on the other hand was a bit more adapt to evening out the metabolic processes.

The West home was moderately long but made well in depth along the shorter sides. The entirety of the first floor was pushed back by about a metre and a half from the evident starting line of the home thereby producing a cumbersome porch under a straight lined overhanging roof which found its support in a number of solid wood pillars. The only outcrop of its flat face was a window entrance way into the living room, the large pane of glass being a part of an extended bit of the house, slanting outward on both sides before lining across about a foot in from the front face. Atop of this living room extension, and thus above the straight lined ceiling of the porch, was a balcony of sorts with smaller pegs lining its rectangular shaped outline with a sliding door leading into the larger master's bedroom; it to like the first floor had an overhanging ceiling however this one was angled upwards to a triangular point and supported by no more than two solid beams at the outer corners of the balcony. The other side of the house contained a similar triangular point albeit quite a lot more wider and direction away from the front, the point being a line that ran lengthwise against the breadth of the house thereby conflicting and running into the point formed by the master room's ceiling. The home was painted a lukewarm kind of brown save for the wood that of the pillars with their attaching fences, window trims, the door, and the three step stairwell that lead up to the centre of the house towards the door, all of which painted a burnt auburn. The surrounding area was mostly trees with patches of grass, another house not being spotted for some distance in either direction; a necessity regarding their regular activities of running in and out at a super speed.

A quick tap up into the Speed Force and Interval was standing just outside the West family home, standing along the red cobble stone path that led from the smooth road, up the wooden boarded stairs, and to the heavy white coated door. He had successfully out ran his weakening pursuers but he knew it wouldn't take long for them to catch up. They knew who he was therefore it was not too far a stretch to admit they knew who Iris and Jai were also; therefore, he would need to be careful about his approach. He would have liked nothing more than to step inside and question his acquired caretakers about the foreign speedsters dominating Keystone City but something had pulled upon the doors lever before he could ever hope to reach it sending a jolting shock up his spine that inevitably came to settle in his stomach with a shake. He tilted his head and threw out his hands as the door slid inward on its hinges giving way to a darkened figure exiting from within the hole. From the shade of the overhanging roof came one of the oppressing chasers, well at least one whom looked like the others. The intimidating figure came to a stop just short of the first step, placing his hands firmly around his waist while his eyes glared down at the smaller speedster. He felt another shock push its way through his core as another one of the figures appeared at the side of the house, turning around the ledge and crossing to the front of the house coming to a stop a few strides in. A quick turn to the other side revealed another of the same figures making their way to the front of the house. Soon, the three were joined by several others making their way from the surrounding areas, first appearing in the rapid foot paces that their abilities gave them before slowing down to a monotonous walk as they approached the front of the house; all in all, it became apparent that they were closing in to surround him, his backside now be fully covered by the near ten chaser whom had finally caught up to him.

"Who are you?" Interval turned around a full circle looking for any distinguishing features that would signify there being a leader of some sort, but had no success in determining a difference between them. "Who are you?" he questioned one last time as he turned away from the line of soldiers crossing the roadway to look up at the seven of them drawing closer to him from the front of the house.

"You are the chosen one," one of the figures voice sounded off in a dry monotone at Interval's right side.

"What?" Interval quickly motioned his feet to take a look at the speaker.

"You are Jace Allen, son of Blain Allen," a second voice, just as deep and dry as the last, only now at another angle that forced the young speedster to rotate his head to look around for the new speaker in the circular arrangement.

"Yes," Jace slipped front his usual affirming voice still relatively uncertain as to whom he should be looking to if anyone.

"You are the chosen one," another voice continued with the assertion.

"The chosen one of what?" Interval threw out his question with a dose of caution.

"You have become one with the Speed Force," one of the voice continued on in the familiar tone which made specifying the words as forming a statement or a question rather difficult.

"Yes," Interval responded, "but only for a moment [INT#2]."

"Jace Allen is the one who has absorbed the Speed Force," Jace caught onto the lips of the last speaker but the face of the person through the cowl looked as though he did not understand the words being spoken.

"What do you need from me?" Interval arched his neck around while his body stayed roughly cemented in a solid position, glancing around at the figure that had come to a stop within a metre from colliding with him.

"The time line forged through the powers of the Speed Force had deleted us from history," the informative words quickly tallied up in Interval's mind adding on to some rough conclusions.

"You are from the future?" the young speedster questioned.

"We originate in an alternate time line of the thirtieth century," the voice this time round caused Interval to close his eyes and let his head wander around on the pivot of his neck, shaking in disbelief, "Bart Allen, Impulse, the Flash, deleted us from continuity by way of his Speed Force connection," the boy nodded his head as he came to understand where this was headed, "your absorption of the Speed Force for a brief moment has scattered the time lines, connections and the alternate universes of all whom have ever connected to it therefore bring us back into existence."

"What do you need from me?" Interval reasserted himself as his eyes shot open with the raise of his head upright.

"Our connection to the Speed Force is faltering since you have been disconnected," The voice continued, "you will reconnect to the Speed Force and re-establish our time line as the sole time line."

"No," Interval shook his head with a disgusted tone of voice, "you don't understand, that was an accident," he bent his elbows to bring his hands up to the sides of chin, bending slightly lowly as he made to plea, "it was a once in a lifetime connection, I just…I can't. It will kill anyone who has ever been attached to it."

"You will connect," the voice continued undisturbed, "or we will destroy Keystone City."

"Why?" Interval snapped, looking side to side with quick movements, "I told you it was an accident, there's nothing I can do for you."

"You will connect!"

"You will connect!"

"No!" Interval shouted as loud as he could, thumping down his fists. Interval began to start panting loudly as the rage boiled under his skin. In near unison the group of super speed soldiers took a step forward causing quite the tremble all around him, "who are you?" he continued with his shrieking scream. He suddenly felt a strong shadowy presence at his back side immediately resulting in a turn to see the tall muscular intimidator leaning in over top of him covering out the light of the fresh white sky.

With a simultaneous intake of air, the surrounding men gave their name, "we are the Hyperguard."


	28. Nightwing 7 Part 1

Nightwing #7  
Volume 1. Story 6.  
The Warlock in the Stone (Part 1)

* * *

Today, the clear skies, the beautiful baby blue, would have been viewable in its most pristine form had it not been for the hazard pace of two fast flying individuals crossing through it with strong arm punches aimed at gut, head or any part of the body left exposed to the might of the fist. It was a flurry of red mixed in with a pallet of deep seeded blue that contrasted the sky, twisted together like a hurricane that was splattering backwards at a near straight angle as though a paint brush had fallen upon the frontal massive glob and scraped it out as thin as possible creating a lingering tail of light. The only time this bundle of beings broke character was when one of those furious punches was delivered to its target resulting in an outward sway of one body under a thin shard of sparking white energy, the exposed body parts being more than a match for the punches laid upon them. The two of them were locked in a battle that was quickly closing in on the City's ground floor, their hits upon one another causing some adverse side effects upon the surrounding infrastructure; strong, but not yet powerful to snap free the thick glass panels embedded in the wiry steel geometric frame.

The descent was quick but flowing down on an angle that maximized movement along the broadsides of the wide reaching street line, using the narrowing image of the contrasting grey sidewalks to the black tar of the road as a narrowing trajectory line, a runway waiting for the landing. As such, there was time that could be allotted to distinguishing the figures from one another. The more overtly red figure was quite a bit taller than the other, older if not more mature; she was a strong muscular woman who had clearly taken command of the tussle, placing the smaller girl underneath her on descent, shaping her hands around the younger girl's wrists to prevent a reprisal attack. With her body pinned the way it was, back facing the ground, all the young girl could seem to do at this moment was hope that the collision of her body against the hard cold cement was not as painful as it appeared.

It wasn't long till the civilians dotting the encompassing street crunching sidewalks noticed the approaching free fallers as they clouded the rays of the bright sun with a dark cascading image of their collective form, a shadow that only grew in strength and reach the faster they approached. Persons in luxurious well-furnished business suits, ties within collars, and high end business suits let the sweat pound out from the pores of their skin as a terrifying fear placed their thoughts more towards the preservation of their lives overtop of their articles of clothing; the people swiftly set out to assure a personal vanishing act, smartly propelling themselves in the opposite direction of the beings' flight path. On this continuing plan, the strip of road was quickly reaching its abrupt end by way of a straight edge, the flat fronted near metre high concrete barrier along the edge of the sidewalk having signified the necessity of the road's drivers to either make good on a turn to either side to avoid a straight on collision. They hastily made do with their turns and headed off into new realms of traffic though the inner lanes were somewhat congested when the drivers could not help but slow down and pause to see the people diving to the ground above as they mentally plotted out the course for the final impact, that of currently being at the centre of the 'T' shaped intersection; unable to back track against the oncoming storm of vehicles, it was time to abandon what little comfort they had within them and take to a foot race away from the potential of disaster.

The marvellous sky scrapping buildings with their furnished metals and embed glass planes were noticeably absent from this area of town, opting for a more traditional approach with the taller buildings of the bunch being no more than six stories high, an adequate height for the usual office and living purposes considering the exceptionally long lengths these buildings were given, taking up nearly whole blocks to themselves. Further distinguishing were the materials used, opting more so for a more delicate ivory white smoothed sandstone brick that were moulded into one another to make a perfectly sharpened structure with a flowing outcrop of swirling designs around balcony heads and hanging baskets just outside of near door sized windows; it was a little bit of a Greco-Roman influence within the bustle of the modern crowd, though the grey pebble marsh that filled out the box atop most of these buildings was more or less an abstraction to the interested mind, especially for one flying above who would no doubt be observing only that such feature. There was however one exception to the whole arrangement of buildings. Across the street from a well composed townhouse section with their tile stone steps and coloured doors and entrance ways was a metal fence painted in a bright blue hue, generally consisting of wiry thin lines melted against one another to create small squares; needless to say the view of the other side was quite accessible. The dirt in this long patch was quite dry, fleshed out to a light tone of brown that tapped upon a sand like composition; it was worn out to say the least but for good reason, it was a construction site that was being prepared to support one of them monolithic beings of steel, plastic and glass. Already the frame had been established with the crucial corner beams having long been enfranchised in the necessary cement blockers that composed the spacious basement floor of the building's rectangular shape along with several other similar metallic beams being evenly spaced from one another in between. At twelve stories high, it was certain to stand out among the small child like blocks that the surrounding buildings were certain to become; signifying each floor were sets of horizontally laid beams, smaller cut pieces that wedged into the sides of the vertical rise of the support beams. All away around they went the full perimeter of the building, with some even intertwining in towards the centre where other support beams had arisen from the cold basement. The displacing height over all others and the crisp corners that the beams forged made for an exceptional place to sit and look out to the wonders of the endless sky or to perhaps fall asleep undisturbed as was the case for one such creature of the night whom had fitted himself quite comfortably against the corner post most outwardly close to the intersection below, legs straightened out along the flat side of the beam he sat upon.

The sleeping Nightwing was decked head to toe in an sleek firm black fabric though this exterior was quite rightfully a lie for what lay beneath it was a padded layer which was laced with a variety of gears and chips that lit up in a delicate neon blue whenever it came in to contact with Batman based technology, a connection that often arose from being beaten up forcing a mandatory repair, an all too common occurrence in his life as a superhero. Like Batman, along the side of his ears and aiming up were proper points about an inch up on the side ledges of his scalps, but unlike the straight lines that graced the Dark Knight's heads, his bent back ever so slightly to the natural pointed end facing backwards. His outward appearance was not entirely engulfed in the slimming black as he opted to wear more fitting equipment to his role; around his forearms were silvery shined gauntlets of sorts which were rather bulky on the outside as its formed compartment contained his escrima styled sticks, the gloves by extension were of a lighter grey and quite bulky around his small fingers. His boots likewise carried on the distilled greying shade however they were much more loos fitting, taking a round formation around his toes while leaving the bulk of his shins exposed on account of the boot's upper fabric being unwisely large in their embedded hoop ring like fashion, falling flatly along to the sides of his feet on many occasions of his fighting techniques. Of what was most important to him was the blue falcon that embraced his chest, the long wings flowing down from his armpits at straight diagonal lines with their geometric styled wings trailing in below; a bottom diamond shaped tail and narrowing neck to create a dual beak leading off to one side of his chest filled out the rest of the iconic image, at least iconic in so far as he considered it to be. Despite the excessive height of his family members, he himself was moderately small.

The tips of Nightwing's feet began to waver, nodding off a little from side to side; a strong breeze was coming his direction and it was quickly becoming evident that his body just wasn't heavy enough to hold its own. Soon his legs were buckling and his chest felt a tad bit too compressed against the firm beam his back laid against. The support of his neck soon began to falter and wonderment soon filled his eyes, the white beams of light eschewing through the black of his cowl, finally awake. "I am a man," he muttered lowly to himself as a weak fist flew outward. Following a heavy swallow, he grunted as he came to recognize the oncoming figures, rather the figures that had just flown by him, forcing him to collide backwards against the pole as he became entrenched in the wake of swirling winds. A hand soon clasped the side of his head and help throttle himself up straight as stood upright, "sickness or in health, death? can't see a thing, fuzzy…" the patterns of black and white static patterned themselves in his eyes as he awkwardly placed his free hand against the supporting corner beam. His small little head with the flexing ears peered inward of the road, aiming lowly to the ground, "that doesn't look good."

The smaller girl underneath with the heavy blue top had finally managed to pull one her hands free from the vice grip of her tormentor, enabling her to pull back past her shoulder while her digits formatted themselves to the attaching palm. With a well-structured swipe, the battering fist hit the side of the dark haired woman's head causing her position of empowerment to collapse just enough so that the aim of the descent was changed albeit only with only a slight movement forward from the centre of the intersection. Beyond the wide sidewalk, overtop of the arrow tipped rail lines of the fence and ahead of the flat metre wide grass plane, straight into the flat back of what could have a been the centre piece of this classically designed region. It was the widest of buildings as well as the smallest in stature reaching no more than two stories high. While the front had a multitude of curvatures outward and a myriad of flag poles aimed out to the sky on an angle, the back was rather plain and simplistic, white with barely any definition or character to its build save for a few cornering indentations that created box like outcrops, most notably the longest of one being at the centre of the building's backside where the collision was to be taking place.

The solid outer stones of the wall crumbled nearly instantly upon the impressive snapping of the two figures through it. The molten explosion of compounding rock blistered into pieces from sizes in excess of a robust car tire and ranging downward to no larger than a thumb, the smaller ones of which often flowing away along the grassy plane and occasional tossing shards at the gate with a multitude of dings while the more muscular chunks dropped to the ground like dead weights leaving their impression in the soft soil. Damage however was not completely contained to a single wall for the collision continued onward to the immediate floor within the building, this time slamming up against the pearl flavoured linoleum layered and shattering it, leading into the plastic piping and wiring innards that ran through this structure before finally hitting upon the solid ground that met the earth where no more movements downward could be made. A trail of steam and electrical light shows were left in their wake but the full extent of the damage had yet to be concluded.

The room they had entered was an arena sized in an orientation, fitting the full breadth of the building and then some; it was like an underground shelter dedicated to the protection of found and researched artefacts that had either been disenfranchised from the display above or were waiting for that moment to be granted a day in the light. Unlike what must have been a glorious showing of the golden plated walls with the mixing features of the floor in the museum rooms above, the archives below were rather the standard bleakness to be expected being no more than a coarse grained grey; the fluorescent panels of light above, suspended there by the extension of metal chains wrapping around electrical cords, did little to sway the generated opinion.

The dark auburn haired, red clad woman was the first to stand up from the rubble, taking on a pose of victory over the fallen body of her combatant. The impact crater their little smash up produced was quite sizable, the black lined cracks through the solid rock floor being a good thirty feet outward from the central core where she stood. The pulled up chunks of rock around her had been reduced to jagged stepping stones, slipping into one another now as her rise from knee to foot caused some jittery reactions. She wore quite the form fitting red suit that engulfed the entirety of her torso and stretched down along her legs and throughout her arm reach where the final cut off appendages were graced with white pieces, boots and gloves, with sizable cuff pieces that rose about an inch past the ankles and wrists respectively; it was a very fine fabric, silky to the touch yet so remarkably strong looking in its definition. Her eyes were a remarkable blue modelled after a solid facial structure, but of the most admirable features of her persons was what had taken up the curvature of her neck line and aimed downwards to her waistline, a solid gold bolt, a lightning rod with a width of about a foot across her chest while zigzagging downward twice before capping off to a long firm point; she was Miss Marvel.

From her position, Miss Marvel was confronted with numerous rows of large monolithic like objects about three feet in width with a broadside of about the size of an average train cart though reaching double its stacking size in height. There were three sets of these structure's broadsides facing against her, spaced out from each other's ending smaller sides a good distance to allow a walkway in between; however, it was quickly noted that there was not just one of them alone at the apparent front for there were others of its kind right behind it no more than an inch away with others soon behind it in a likewise pattern, crawling all back to the opposing wall at the other end of the basement. The sides were solid in their green fixture though the careful eye recognized them as containers and shelves that held behind the encasings the rarest of items. A sizable track line embedded within the floor affirmed the belief that these structures were moved to create hall space in between so that items could be extracted with ease though it was of proper note that no such attempts had been recognizable made and as such the rows appeared rather tightly bound to one another. To either side of her was box like outcrops moulding outwards at crisp angles from the walls, scrapping out from the corners of this basement floor and shaving off in a straight line about two thirds up, a spacious opening exiting between its roofing and hitting the first floor of the museum. The sides of these small rooms had an apparent front, facing one another with her in between; a circular metallic plate sat within a small indentation into these front walls, sitting just off from the centre towards the main wall so that a set of black lined flat panels could be lined along the inner side. She was no safe cracker but she nonetheless drew her attention closely to a small circular slot in between the jumble of panels at just about stomach height. It was an opening large enough to fit a hand through, something she knew she had to do if she was to get through the heavy door; however a tightly bound crunching of a hand had grasped her lower leg just under the thick cuffs of her boots while she was in mid walking motion towards the cumbersome safe door.

With a furious crunching of her facial muscles, Miss Marvel looked down at the much younger girl as she shook free her tired muscles from the impressive dent they created together to reach out and grab her out of desperation with a tiny grunt and clenched teeth. Miss Marvel however was not willing to deal with this steadfast defiance any further and thus hurriedly pressured her knee upward with a quick jerk that propped the girl up onto her own feet, both hands now coming to clench down harder around the lower region of the shin. They stared into one another's eyes, both filled with an unquenchable rage but one of them nonetheless holding back a well-established fear; the sole of Miss Marvel's boot solidly positioned itself within the centre of the young girl's chest, dragging the poor girl's arms with it accordingly, before pulling out the stops in an all-out extension of her leg's ligaments. The blue topped girl's grip lost its holding as the speed and force of the kick proved too much for her to handle; the force first dragged her feet along the ground but the traction was soon lost and before she knew it, her backside was up against one of the green tinted shelves, colliding into it with a shine of displaced metal shards and continuing onward with a toppling motion like large sized dominoes being tipped over. She let out some grunts and squeals as the hits kept coming and coming while the shelves, unable to break around the movement of her body, faltered downward on top of one another, ripping free of the track line. Miss Marvel hastily jumped back to her mission, looking away instantly and aiming back towards the circular slot that awaited her mighty fist.

"Whoa," Nightwing leaped down the whole, legs bent at the knees and hands ready to approach a crouching position once he met the remnants of the shatter floor. "As if there wasn't enough damage already," he complained as he saw the extent of the tussle as blowing through the lined up containers albeit coming to an end just under halfway down, the impact of the kick having long since lost the initial power. A sound of twisting gears and clamping metal pieces caught his left ear which instantly caused a shift in his focus towards the outcropping safe room where he saw Miss Marvel quite clearly attempting a break in, smashing her hand into the opening slot and twisting the locking mechanism therein without first taking in account for the codes to open it; as such the revolting noises her force filled pull caused were quite excruciating, heavy metal snapping and turning accordingly to her forceful pushes and pulls. "What's going on here?" Nightwing curved his elbows upwards and shook his fists towards Miss Marvel's backside. Following the finishing chime of a rather large ding, the red clad woman retracted her arm from the hole, successful in her attempted to pull free the tubular bolts that kept the circular plate embedded in the wall. While Miss Marvel nimbly made her way through the door, Nightwing had come across a startling image in the far off wreckage of the collapsed containers, a rather sore looking blue clad girl just lying in an impression that her body formed at the final rung of the long row of connected shelves. "Lara?" Nightwing let out a soft hearing question name as he tossed out his left hand towards Miss Marvel as if to say he was throwing her off for the mean time as he darted towards the centre row of shelf units, poised to use of his boot boosters and gliding wings to reach her. "Supergirl?" he called out with the girl's more recognized name as the propulsion of the booster lifted him a few feet upwards of the damage in a small wisps of swirling smoke, followed by a low level decent to the crushed girl whom had legs and arms quite spread out from the deep hole her torso had made. He fell to his knees, hands nearly ready to pander to the pain that she looked like she was in.

Supergirl had quite the striking image, she was quite young like Nightwing but made up for her age and subsequent lack of experience with an impressive physical form unmatched by her peers; not that she needed to work much upon it on account of her array of superpowers. Her top was a strong blue, a tightening fabric that gripped to every facet of her upper body before flaring out from her waist, divided at the sides by a simple cut that treaded upwards to the centre of her torso just below her upper chest thus creating a set of flaps, one at her front and another gracing her backside. Underneath the top, as evident through the cracks along her sides, was a skin tight red single piece suit that slipped all the way down to her toes in tight box like ends. She was a proud member of her shared parentage but had opted in her youth to follow that path that her father had made, wearing boldly at the centre of her chest the iconic Superman logo, the giant red 'S' embedded within a black base outlined by a golden trim; it had its differences, but the meaning was still the same. Her face was inhuman, not on account of its shape, which was truly beautiful by any scale or standard, but rather for her shock of light blue hair that was tied up closely in a red soft ring at the back of her skull that left the curls free and fluttering just a bit past her shoulders. Following in line with this were her eyebrows which held this hue, further complimented by the luscious shape of her blue tinted lips and wide ocean blue eyes, the same kind of irises that Nightwing possessed as his civilian identity; that connection of vision between the two was enough, they knew one another with nothing more than a passing glance.

"Get away from me," Supergirl's snappy voice echoed in Nightwing's head. She sneered at him with a disgruntled stare all while slapping her arms against the encroaching bent metal, using her strength to prop herself back up on to her feet. She allotted time to a heavy swallow of the excess juices in her mouth and shook her shoulders as her footing regained sufficient stepping. She was all prepared to storm off back into the battle which clenched teeth and strong fists but a sudden tag around her wrist snapped her back into the reality that was Nightwing.

"Are you crazy?" Nightwing's hand quickly pulled up along Supergirl's arm for a better grip and let his body fall back as best he could knowing full well that with a simple tug, the girl he was trying to stop could very well tear his arm out of its socket with a simple tug forward. Unfortunate for him though, his footing was rather off balance on account of the slanting angles of the collapsed shelves thereby forcing him to kick his heavy soles as hard as he could while staying upright, "she'll tear you apart!"

"Humph," Supergirl looked back to the bat-boy with a startling look in her eyes, lips curling into one another, "I'm the only one that can stop her," she shook her hand rapidly signifying to Nightwing that it was probably best for him to be letting go which he did instantly with a wide eyed glare. She proceeded to step her way through the wreckage her body created, shifting her muscles around as best she could to let the fast reacting healing process begin as she trudged along at a rapid pace; Nightwing, however, could only make out the hunch of her shoulders, the imaginary dark cloud that floated around over top of her head. With a quick lunge of speed, she had made her stand at the centre of the cracking impact crater further causing the displacing of its once solid form. She tossed out her hands and swayed her head from side to side with an analyzing glare, looking for details, a clue that would help her to learn the whereabouts of her current foe and soon she became enamoured with the circle door of the safe which had been left ajar, but only in so far as to gather just the glint of the shiny metallic blue the comprised its interior; it was safe to say that the person whom broke inside had long since left its boundary. "Great!" she snapped with a swift turn to face back towards Nightwing whom was awkwardly stepping his through the bent metal pieces of the shelves to get to the space where she stood, "you let her go!"

"I don't know if you care," Nightwing beckoned with a more straight commanding voice than he was accustomed too though still ringing with a heavy dose of concern, "but you're not exactly in her weight class, not to mention she's primarily magic based…are you trying to get yourself killed?" he came to a firm stop a mere four strides away from her, hands clench across his chest while she leaned over to him with hands closely bound to her waist.

"I could have handled her," Supergirl continued with a hefty bit of ferociousness that was primarily evident within her eyes, "I have to handle her," she backed off a bit with an expulsion of relief that saw the anger linger away with a limp to nose dive into a bit of sadness, "I'm the only I can," she concluded with a more level head.

"Then let me help," Nightwing reasoned with a sympatric look to him.

"You've cost me enough time as it is!" Supergirl quickly slipped back into the consuming rage. She was just about ready to turn her heals and prepare to fly free of this noxious mess and this overbearing boy but was stopped from doing so when a familiar tap of footsteps caught her attention, drawing her to the pathway to the left of the damaged containers.

Nightwing, recognizing the wavering of Supergirl's eyes overtop of his shoulder turned abruptly to face the oncoming figure. She was kind looking woman with short dark hair that showered along the sides of her head and around with a perfectly level trim and eyes that had a ghostly glow to them; however, despite her delicate facial features, she did look like perhaps the most shocked person they had ever seen before. She wore a long sleeved white sweater which hung around her neck in a square bracket that revealed the lighter green, nearly teal, undershirt that obviously continued beyond the edge of the thick white sweater for there was a flap that curved out from her sides towards the centre of her waist. Her pants followed a similar pattern to the sweater with similarly plane looking boots absent of straps or any compressing agent overtop of the smooth plastic like curvature from the top of her shin to the circular end of her toes. She came to a stop at the end of the walkway forged by the shelves and hastily took in some shallow breaths as she looked at the two young heroes, looking more towards one at first than moving on to the other. "Mrs. Sandsmark?" Nightwing was the first to pick up into words as he too took on a strange form of breathing along with a jagged smirk and swivel of his shoulders to face her more appropriately.

"Aunt Helena," Supergirl spoke up in a military tone that abstracted greatly from her fellow hero, "you have my word as an Amazon that I will return her to help restore what was lost." She bowed her head slightly and rose up her right hand in a fist and clenched it tightly to the left side of her chest.

"Yeah umm…" Nightwing gulped as he rose up his right hand awkwardly and extended his index finger in the direction of the broke safe door, "what do you guys keep in there?"

* * *

"Do you want my help or not?" Nightwing posited a question with a stern voice. The young hero had made his way up from the hole with a casual jump and boost of his rockets, coming to a clean landing upon the smooth cement of the sidewalk which was still remarkably absent of any pedestrians. He shook his shoulders as he rose up to his feet, letting his head crook down to one side as he saw some of the stifled people locate their cars while others were still a little stunned, unwilling to leave their tight grasps against the building fronts.

"I never asked for it in the first place," Supergirl sounded off with her disapproval as her approach to the ground from her high reaching push into the air from the basement of the museum seemed more natural to that of the technical inclined Nightwing. "There's nothing you can do for me anyway," she slammed her hands to her sides once more and shot forth a distasteful glare in the boy's direction.

"Oh come on," Nightwing hummed with a lighter tone, tossing up his hands to add some physicality to his words. He stepped a little closer to her, slowing down within four feet with a bit of a hunch to his shoulders, "I want to help…we're family," he swallowed with a narrowing stare into her eyes but the reception was less than lukewarm.

"We are not family," Supergirl wagged a hand across the front of her face forcing the lurching boy to step back a bit, "we share no bond of blood," her words reverberated through him like wildfire turning his body into warm mush, "my mother only puts up with you because she believes that all people have the right to be accepted anywhere, especially with her. It's a sacrifice she takes on…don't expect the same from me," she turned herself away from him before starting up into a path that crossed along his side. She raised her chin and prepared to fire up in a flight plan but was shot down before her feet could even lift from the ground when the boy behind her had something important to say.

"I know how to find her," Nightwing grumbled. He lifted his face a little, catching his eyes upon those of Supergirl's whose face had turned to her inner shoulder, interest evidently within her clean eyes. "I was able to place a tracking device on her before I found you…."

"Well come on then," Supergirl quickly turned around, "give me some coordinates or something."

"I will," Nightwing lowered his right hand to his belt line, tapping along one of the silver tubules causing it to spark up in a white light for a moment, "but first I want to know what's happening. Why is Miss Marvel acting like this…" he trailed off into silence as he came to recognize the resilience in Supergirl's face, "I'm sort of a detective. I need data to reach my conclusions."

"I don't know," Supergirl rolled her eyes, "she attack a museum in Metropolis," she returned her look to Nightwing, taking on a tone of voice that regularly fell into sarcasm even if the words spoken were true, "I tried to stop her…but I couldn't. I've been following her ever since and she led me here…that must have been like a half-hour back," she shook her head with uncertainty, "she hasn't even said a word, she just sort of growls at me."

"The cabinet that she broke into inside the safe contained an undeclared and unregistered amulet piece," Nightwing piqued up with an almost shrill voice though kept it under to a modest commanding tone, "Mrs. Sandsmark described it as being a rounded piece with a chiselled eye as the central figure upon its top surface."

"So?"

"Well," Nightwing let his head wobble around on the pivot of his neck, "It was a broken off piece which means there probably other parts to its complete form…the museum in metropolis probably had part of its own as well as any other place she broke into before you found her."

"What good is this to me?" Supergirl scoffed, "give me a tracker and I'll take her down."

"Hold up," Nightwing scrawled up to a more affirmative strength, "we should try to learn what she's trying to put together with the pieces she's collected before we try to take her on. If I can get a picture of the piece from Metropolis then maybe I can put together a better picture."

"Well, then do it on the run," Supergirl rose into the air, "either you show me where she's gone or I'll search for her without you."

"Yeah," Nightwing's head shot up to the sky looking for the movements of his recalled vehicle, tracking in on the deep black spread of its paint job as it approached their position from overtop of the museum roof, turning its side to Nightwing as it lowered slightly over top of him; the Blue Bird had arrived. Its central piece of the craft was an oval shaped piece with a flatter bottom side in comparison to a more angled top piece on account of the wide brim deep tinted blue windshield that took up much of the top space with the exception of the foot thick rectangular shaped box at the back which was the solid straight edged abstraction to the rather circular craft. This box end was remarkable flat though it was of note that the top of it was curved inward like one fourth a circle piece and in its placement appeared as though it was the place from which the windshields gears caused its lift. On either side of this centre piece were spike like wings that bowed outwards more so when closest to the pod before narrowing out to a point a good distance ahead of the craft's bulk. On the inner side of the wings were dark blue panel that followed within a strong black trim. "Just follow me I guess," Nightwing awkwardly stated as he looked to the underside of the vehicle. The bottom of the craft had four thick spaced, yet thinly sliced, metal bits that curved into one another blocking out a body sized hole; slipping inwards to the interior plating at a simultaneous rate with one another revealed the interior of the pod which Nightwing took to his advantage as he leapt up as high as he could, fluttering as he lowered down into the seat just behind the hole in the floor he just flew into. The interior was quite sleek in its design, the chair being a cushioned black that kind of leaned backwards while there were two handle bars on either side that required the grasp of his two hands to take full control of its movements; the moment his hands came to touch the electrical patterns underneath the surface of his uniform shot up in the electronic blue, all jagged yet entirely straight lines that rode all the way up his arms. Comfortable, he looked into the mini computer screen directly ahead of him that was embedded into the narrow dashboard within.

"Are we going?" Supergirl tapped along the windshield, calling through it with minor distortion to her voice.

Nightwing shook his head and called up the tracking image, laying out a map of the city while letting a thick blue line dominate the image leading him on a straight direct path to where Miss Marvel had flown off with his tracer. With a pull of the handle bars, the Blue Bird lurched forward on a curvature upwards to reach for the clear blue skies quickly followed by the free roaming body of Supergirl.

"Proxy?" Nightwing threw a question out to his seemingly always available source of information.

"Nightwing."

"Good," Nightwing responded hastily, "Miss Marvel's been breaking into Museums, stealing cracked amulet pieces, I was wondering if the pieces were probably connected somehow, is there any way you could construct an image from the parts?"

"I can use the museum archives to get pictures, though I'm not entirely sure what I'm looking for…?"

"Oh, of course, sorry," Nightwing nodded his head for the benefit of himself, "I'm with Supergirl right now-"

"Your cousin?"

"Apparently not," Nightwing grunted as he moved on from the interruption, "she said that the museum in Metropolis was one of the places that Miss Marvel broke into. They've probably reported the missing artefact by now, cross check that with any other museums that have been broken into recently and see if there are any matches."

"I'm on it, but it's going to take some time."

"Where are we going?" Supergirl flew over top of the windshield and looked down at the boy in his cockpit in his seated position that could only be described from this angle as appearing upside down.

"She came to a stop not too far from here," Nightwing raised his head to look at her with his dazed white shot eyes, "but it's not another museum…." He narrowed in on the viewing screen.

"Well then where is it?" she enunciated strongly upon each word with rapid shakes of her hands.

"Looks like some sort splotch of clear land?" Nightwing contended with a sheepish moan, "it's not something really defined on my map."

"Agh," Supergirl grunted with displeasure as she throttled herself forward from the front of the craft, breaking off from the close hovering to develop an air of flight that was her own.

"Doesn't sound like she's too fond of you."

"What proxy?" Nightwing pulled his head down from the clouds, "oh, well, our first encounter was kind of rocky and it's been going down ever since…I think I understand. She doesn't exactly have a whole lot of fun as a super hero, since Superman flow off on his great star journey she's sort of just been expected to fill the role and she's just too young to be expected to be doing this all on her own yet she does so anyway," he lowered his head into his shoulder, "I don't blame her for not liking me much, I just thought that we would both have some common ground considering we have a parent who seems to have forgotten us…I don't want to give up on trying to get her to like me though."

"Hurts don't it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nightwing squeaked in anticipation.

"You're so lovable…."

Nightwing's eyes narrowed while his shoulder slumped, "just let me know when you've got the image collected." His hands pulled back on the bars energizing a heightened pace modulated by the shift in gears, "I'm heading in."

* * *

The automated landing system within the Blue Bird found a spot of moss ridden grass land whose flat plain characteristics Nightwing quickly dismissed as being a very thin understatement. The sides of the long spike wings sunk into the ground while the central pod shifted around for a brief moment to fit the parking orientation that the wide spacing permitted. The gears within the quarter circle atop the box began to turn backwards, rotating back the cumbersome blue windshield which immediate shot out from its slot letting free a solid shot of steam from all sides, a lingering trail of greyish clouds that once kept the interior so air tight as it was. A significant space opened up from the raise, the ending tip of the windshield having lifted up several feet to reveal the interior of the Blue Bird though of more striking note was that of the young driver inside whom was awkwardly crawling out along the side trim where the windshield was originally stationed, stomach collapsing upon the side bars with hands and legs being flailed around aimlessly to help himself get over.

"What's wrong with you?" Supergirl came to smooth landing alongside the craft and almost immediately clasped her fingers around her waist bones, towering over top of the fallen hero.

Nightwing planted his hands into the ground but upon recognizing the emergence of his hands in the moss his eyes lit up in the cleanest of whites, throwing a jiggling shard of disgust mixed in with fear throughout his body, raising his hands from the floor as quick as he could to get onto the support of his feet. He shook his head rapidly from side to side with his tongue slipping out from his lips from time to time, "this is cemetery," he swallowed, "look where I landed…." He waved out his hand to the parked position of his parked vehicle showcasing the ground lain plaques and the occasional raised stone that slanted inwards towards those lied to rest. "There are bodies under there!" he spoke up in a loud shocked tone as he continued to wave his extended index finger towards the rows of plaques and identification stones that looked as though they had been purposely laid to create a runway for the landing of his vehicle.

"Watch where you step then," Supergirl smirked.

The plot of land dedicated to cemetery use was sizable though not quite as large as more the football arena sized plots that had become the norm; judging further from the abundance of stone crosses and monolithic stones affirmed within the two heroes that this particular resting place had long since been used up to full capacity with the last burial no doubt occurring some four decades back from today. Surrounding the area was a simple grey metal fence, thick poles spaced out from one another a suitable distance while thin twine like cords weaved through one another and in between forming diamond shaped patterns big enough to fit a tennis ball through, almost. Beyond the fence line were the poorly decaying roadways that weren't nearly as wide or as well formulated as the ones within the inner city they had left. At their backsides ranged an assortment of taller buildings, the usual high-rise apartment structures that stood upwards of twenty stories and casted a forced perception of their clustered image, as though there glued together though still not quite touching. On the other side of the roads to their sides were primarily low key housing units, long strips of wooden panels in the strangest hues of blue, green and others that stood out; their meagre front lawns being just a mould ridden as the cemetery's. Of special note was the plot ahead of them which existed somewhat on a slope upwards with a few recognizable small sized jagged cliffs raising upward from the ground with their clay like texture making up the exposed wall; the grass however remaining well intact on its backside. A series of room sized buildings composed of varnished stone dotted the line of these cliff sides, holding their personal plot of land to themselves with less than adequate security that often consisted of a shin high wood or metal fence and simple bolted door that prevented trespassers from entering inside. The exterior of these small houses were quite extensive in their designs, swirling bits of carved stone with the popping out of angelic imagery was the standard norm but the wonder of these such designs was lost in the young minds once they came to understand what exactly these homes housed.

"Crypts," Nightwing comment sorely, looking to the ancient looking stone buildings that he had originally found himself admiring for their architectural achievements, especially the ones with the lined pillars along its outer perimeter, supporting on their tops a trimming triangular bent roof. The trees in behind with their old long branches and sparse foliage added a whole new level to the creepy image the crypt section already possessed. The sickness caused by the whole ordeal of sights was not sitting to well within him as he realized that the so called investigation may forcibly take them inside one of these 'shacks'. It was time to get continue on though, to fight the fears as a Lantern wielder would and focus on this dire mission, "she's over there somewhere…" he weakly stated with a gulp as he stepped forward, Supergirl soon following in behind.

"You look scared," Supergirl stepped up alongside him, joining him on the long path ahead watching as the poor boy darted around the resting places as signified by the embedded stones, "I can take things over from here."

"No," Nightwing shouted back in response before tempering down to a more stable attitude that displaced his begrudging fear, at least outwardly, "I can handle this."

"I'm serious," Supergirl slid in to the front of him at super speed forcing him to stop mid step. He recoiled backwards a bit but held his head up high as she looked into him with a concerning glow in her eyes, "this is my fight and the last thing I need right now is to be worrying about someone else."

"Do you care then?" Nightwing let his shoulder line drop to smooth slopes from his neck, whatever strength he was holding up for image sake being lost as he began to prod away at the girl's inner feelings.

"Agh," Supergirl shook her head in defiance while her hands crossed over her chest blocking out the shield, "you want to bring this up here? Now?" she scolded the boy for losing his focus.

"Well, why don't you like me?" Nightwing questioned under a sullen sob.

"You should be able to answer that yourself," Supergirl tossed out her response with cynicism as she turned away and continued on the path towards the ancient ruins of the crypts, "it's amazing how Cassie puts up with you on a daily basis," she stormed away with a feisty sway of her fists leaving Nightwing rather dumbfounded in his stunned stationary position, using such a moment to his advantage in inquire his thoughts and memories to extract that supposed answer that lay within him, "are you coming or what?" she snapped him free of his odd state of mind followed by a quick burst of adrenalin that modified his walking space into an all-out jog to catch up.

The two of them successfully breached the line leading into the small stone houses that carried within them a multitude of decaying bones and sand filled urns, thoughts that reached within Nightwing and held there suspended for some time forcing him to look away whenever he had accidently let his eyes wander up the beautiful cobblestone paths to the well-furnished doors that kept within them their horrors. The ground was a lot more coarse in comparison to the previous tracts of grass that dominated the flat lands of the cemetery, taking on a more rugged appearance with unfathomable number of small jagged stones and pebbles that formed an intricate set of pathways that weaved in and around the small houses; the grass and its strong blades had been regulated to nothing more than just weeds that sprouted in the most inconvenient of regions.

"How're you holding up," Supergirl glanced back over her shoulder.

Nightwing fumbled in slowing down to a more comfortable pace as he came alongside his colleague, "uh, fine…I'm not as weak as you think."

"There is certainly doubt there," the blue haired hero responded in jest, "but the truth of the manner may lay unfavourable against you."

"Was that a backhanded compliment?" Nightwing piqued up to a more cheery state for a single moment, albeit one mired by the fact of the insulting words, "I keep getting backhanded compliments."

"Where are we supposed to be going?" Supergirl came to a stop at an apparent fork in the road; the surrounding rocky trails numbered at least five and headed in generally random directions with the lot of them each tapping upon a myriad of differentiated crypt shelters before tapering off into the forested regions where the influx of grass returned to dominate the scene.

Nightwing looked up to the sky and saw across the panel of clear blue the haunting image of the old oak trees with their stringy branches and their sticky sap ridden finger like extensions blotting out the beauty of the open air adding a whole new realm of creepiness to this current endeavour; he was a creature of the night, there was no shame in being scare of the happenings that occurred during the day, right? "My cowl sensors are picking up on the signal," he responded with assurance, "we should be going that way," his hand raised upward in full extension straight ahead of his body, closing in palm shooting outwards towards a line of sight that took them around one of the more monolithic structures noted for its grey canvas stone being supplanted by a trim of ivory white design with a pathway of majestic marble which he inevitably failed to follow along for obvious reasons; it was time to really focus.

"Guess we'll blaze our own trail," Supergirl crossed along Nightwing's backside, looking over to the side of the crypt that blocked her from seeing just what it was the young boy was pointing too. Much to her dismay, there was not much to be looking at, just the dense forestry that lay outside the confines of the cemetery's known lands. It was a rugged territory of green moss and fallen logs situated in and amongst the wide tree trunks with their rough bark exteriors and sticky honey excursions within in many of the formed cracks. "Come along then," Supergirl ordered as she triumphantly took the first few steps alongside the crypt broadside wall, leaving the shade of its side to enter into the forested region where her first step was met with the easy collapse of a fallen branch that was a thick as her muscular arm.

"Yeah," Nightwing commented lowly to himself as he tapped the side of his head throwing the imaging processers back into their normal orientation. It didn't take long for the young teen heroine to navigate a path through the dense forestry; her strength was more than an adequate match for structured wood and on a positive note, her movement through blazed a pathway for which Nightwing followed through on with relative ease.

"I think that must be it," Supergirl's came to a sudden stop as she was swiping away at a long modestly thin branch connected to the lower portion of a nearby tree. Once she had overcome the twanging backfire of the branch, she snapped it off with an unflinching force of strength while her eyes never wandered off from the subject ahead of her a short distance away.

"Well that's quite the sight," Nightwing stepped up his pace in light of the acquired new interest, nimbly skipping over the snake like trail of shattered tree branches, coming to a stop when he had come on par with Supergirl, he too becoming instantly transfixed upon the outcropping image that was quite the major abstraction from the forest of dark greens and brown. There was a cliff ahead, a molten mass of brown goo and assorted soils curving upwards to a height that was well over double their sizes in height and spanned out a significant distance on each side though noticeably lowering its high stature over the course of its swerving movements along the edge line of the cliff itself; the foliage, such as the trees and shrubs, atop this high cliff piece was what appeared to have provided the frightening atmosphere that Nightwing experience when he was walking towards here, the branches seemingly bending and swerving overtop of them as they made their approach closer to it.

The cliff however was not of the sight that had gathered the teen heroes' attentions, rather it was the outcropping solid stone mound, a straight laced crypt quite a distance out away from the main lands where the deceased were laid to rest; there was something special about this particular crypt, its side stone walls bending outwards from the cliff that acted as its back side, the spattering pebbles of dirt flowing over top the flat roof top and shagging off to the sides. Unlike the previous crypts they had come across, this one was radically simple, lacking in any fashionable designs or surrounding fence though there was indeed a path, not one as properly constructed as the often used cobble stones but rather the more practical auburn dirt trodden way; this placed had been come to regularly, how they reached this place however with making a trail through the forest first however was left up in the air as a mystery.

Nightwing hurriedly clambered over to the stunted dirt pathway, intent on being the first one to touch the tight fitting stone door that was indented from the crypt's frontal wall about a foot, "come on, come on," he grunted to himself as he placed both hands upon its surface and put on the pressure, tacking his heels into the ground with two solid kicks and pushing as hard as he could so as to get even the inkling of budge that may warrant his entering.

"I've got it," Supergirl brushed up beside him and slipped up a single hand along the surface and assuredly worked three times as less as Nightwing but still managed to make that all too important budge that he had so desired; he had certainly been upstaged and made note of his disheartened taste in his incessant mumbling as he fell down. The cranks behind the door snapped under the heroine's might and the enfranchised stone door scrapped along the inside floor before slipping away to the far right side as the bolted metal hinges had enabled it to do so. Nightwing was bit too caught up in himself following the obvious ease his compatriot had taken in opening the heavy door, finding himself all to quickly devoid of proper balance thereby forcing a steep drop down to his knees. In a desperate attempt, he leaned his body forward as best he could with hope in reclaiming his balance but all he succeeded in doing was further pushing door inward but at the very least, he assured the two of them that the decades old rustic hinges still effectively worked with no trouble to age; his body however, dropped to the floor with a deafening thud. "Can you see in here?"

"Yeah," Nightwing responded sharply as he shook away the dust from his body as he came to stand upright while Supergirl carted her way inside, "my cowl has like forty different vision settings." The interior was incredible dark on its own; however, the source of light from the great outdoors was steadily seeping inside to make the pearly hues of the floor more recognizable albeit with the casting of their two shadows upon it. "Looks like there is a stairway down up ahead."

"I can see it," Supergirl snapped back as her head came to arch to one side, throwing out her hands hover around at her sides for adjusted balance while holding to slow steady pace in an attempt to be the first one to reach their destination this time round, not that Nightwing would have allowed as such when he hurriedly blew right by her and stomp down the first few steps with an added flair of excitement to the sway of his arms.

* * *

"Are we sure that we are ready?" a lightly pitched voice echoed with concern.

"The master grows hungry for his full form," a more stern voice replied at a near instant, the evident leader of the bunch. There were just under a dozen woman sheltered within this cavernous hole underneath the cliff side, it was damp in its qualities but the floor in its earthly brown mixture was quite hardened, like stone to the passing heavy footed pace leaving no mark. It was adequately large, being near four times the size in both length and height than the stone building that marked its entrance. The side walls were rather crusty with a variety of roots seeping in through the thin cracks that deepened the authentic feeling of its less than chiselled formation; through the roof was similar in the like, there was little doubt that it could not hold the immensity of the cliff on its back, it had done so for so long and its reliance in light of the minor tremors caused by the encroaching cliff side only served to reassure the occupants of its fortitude. The only source of light was the extensive use of wood handled torches, three to the smaller walls at the sides pointing towards the cliff edge with one on either side of the entrance way to this basement dwelling and two just like it opposing them along the wall on the other side.

"Miss Marvel has collected the pieces," a third voice entered the conversation. In a sudden moment, Miss Marvel stepped forward to the centre of the room with her elbows bent at her sides thereby revealing the openness of her palms, exposing the acquired gems she had swiped from the museums. The pieces had a golden trim going along their outer circular edge while everything inward was a of an offsetting blood red with the only abstraction being the stained yellowish-white triangles, the longest of its geometric sides aimed inward towards her the centre line of her body; needless to say, the jagged ends that the triangles pointed to look like they could easily be fitted together. "The eyes of our master," the voice continued as her head bobbled overtop of Miss Marvel's open palms to take a long look into the unflinching shapes, "the villains of this world had found a way to break your wholeness and now we have found you, to be put together as a full face so that you may triumph once more over your enemies."

The cult like figures had the robes to match their society's attitude. Like the colour of the amulet, each woman was bundled up in the thickness of a deep blood red robe that spared no harm in covering every integer of their bodies, all the way down to tips of their fingers and blocking any hope of viewing their moving toes, bordering upon the liability of tripping. A solid gold centimetre trim filled in the flowing ends of the hooded ensemble, cuffing at the end of the sleeves and around the curvature of the gown. They certainly had a distinctive voice to share with one another, but all other things to them were apparently arbitrary in light of their purpose at this moment, which seemed to be to serve the lone male in the room if he could in fact be labelled as such since the veins that made of his body lacked the life juices that made it.

Directly opposing the door frame, and sitting in between the flaming headed torches, was a well-crafted throne which assuredly would have been marvelled by a number of engineers had its components not been so realistic; bones from the dead had been gathered and wounded together with old twin to make a solid seat for their master to sit upon. Along the sides were what looked to be thick leg bones crunched together in their straight lines, making up a frame that was about four feet in height. A similar arrangement of bones made up the front though of a much smaller sort while the squared off backside was a monstrous collage of whatever scrounged up from the other crypts whether that be hands with associated finger bones in place, feet with each accompanying toe and of course, skulls in a myriad of different flattened conditions. But the horrid appearance of this tightly bound human bone chair in a damp torch lit environment paled in comparison to whom was sitting upon it. The man was lying slumped in the throne, the full length of the arms appearing as though they had been forcibly dragged along the crisp bones of the arm rests in an attempt to get each finger around the ends of the thick bone joints pieces that bounded together at the end. Legs likewise had been placed in a respectable formation but it appeared the havoc of not being alive caused the knees to invert inward of one another while the feet remained spaced out from another, staying consistent with the spacing of his broad shoulders. The head however had failed to maintain composure, the neck having been forced to bow outwards under its heaviness as it fell to an armpit. There was no clothing around this being, at least not like the others, for there was barely anything to cover; the man was nearly as skeletal as the bones that had comprised his throne, though with the exception of loosely fitting bleached brown skin that hung limply over such a spindly frame. The eye sockets were complete bare, blackened sightless holes, there were no lips around the slit of what could be determined to be a mouth, and there were no nails to his exposed fingers or toes, he simply was a rotting mass of long dead flesh and bones save for one special detail; the circular cap that was embedded in the centre of his chest.

The this circular cap was about three inches in diameter and appeared to be missing half its complete form for while the bottom half held firmly in place a popping out stone like feature, the top half was a flat as a board, shinning off a dark golden tint that showcased its lack of completion. The bottom piece held a golden trim along its bottom circular face and possessed an interior that oozed of blood red. It was very much like the piece that Miss Marvel had stolen however with one crucial detail; a thick white rectangular box with its broadsides spanning horizontally along its surface, a mouth with teeth in full shine. The top bit of this rocky mouth piece at the centre appeared sharply jagged but nonetheless quite keenly fitting for the eyes pieces which themselves had similar fitting grooves along their bottom surfaces. The soft flat palette of gold was awaiting the return of its covering and the ladies of this cult were more than willing to oblige.

"Our master," one of the women began to speak up as the lot of them formed a semi-circle around the throne built for their master with Miss Marvel forced to stand in there with him, "he speaks to us now, listen…can you hear him?"

"Yes," a hushed whispered exited the lips of the woman at the centre of the circle, standing near the centre line directed towards the decomposing figure, "he is hungry for his power." She stepped forward from the group to line up her side to the front of Miss Marvel whom stood there with a glazed look in her eyes, holding up the eye pieces in her open palms, "Johnny Warlock will be restored this day." She turned abruptly to face her and rose up her arms, coddling up the excessive cloth of her hooded gown to fit around her fingers being certain that there would be no exposure of her skin, and held her hands over top of the eye pieces which she soon snatched up into her own.

Silence had quickly fallen across the persons in the room as the eye stone carrying woman tip toed her way back forward to face the waiting Warlock intent on returning to him what had once been stolen from him. The women's heads began to agonize and toil as the whispering words of their master slipped its way into every fabric of their essence, hypnotically pulling them in under his command, increasing in strength with every movement the holding woman made towards him. With a simple snap, the eye pieces were restored into their rightful spots and the women immediately back tracked her way from the throne position. The voice spattering of words of excitement in their heads suddenly quieted down to an barely audible whimper, picking up almost instantly into gnashing of teeth and small cries of shock as they waited through the unbearable seconds for returned wholeness of the Warlock amulet to take its full effect and pull together into a single wholeness. On her way back, the woman whom had stepped forward faltered in her stepping coming to collision with the body of Miss Marvel, an unfortunate event that forced her down to her knees where decided it best not to return to the line-up of her colleagues, "he has arisen, the Warlock has returned to this plain," she mumbled through her sobs.

It did not take long, the white light of the eyes soon blistered into a powerful rays of intense energy, melting away at the amulet's stone like composition, pouring into the jagged array of cracked lines to pull them together once more and then cooling down to solidification; the audience of cultic members watched with a patient wonder as the magic unfolded itself in front of their very eyes. The gentle hum it emanated soon dissipated itself of the control grasp around their ear, the blinding rays of light dimming to the completed image; a menacing face stretched upon the solid stone domed surface. "Feed me…" a low bellowing voice boomed out from the slumping jaw of the seated figure, the named Warlock Johnny. The demonic forces within the chest bound disk brought forth a second life within the decaying figure, making negligible movements with its sagging appendages while forcing out from its ghastly thinning throat a coarse raspy voice. "Feed me…" the Warlock continued as the darken cores of his eyes sockets appeared to brighten up with a yellow tinge that overpowered the stretch tan colouration of his leather like skin.

"She will quench your hunger," The kneeling women threw her arms together, cloth around her hands tightening to make a praying cup, raised towards her master in a sign of offering, "we have brought to you she whom you control, the one your enemies call Miss Marvel." The bobbling of the hooded head shifted its shaded opening towards the gold lighten bolt that fell down along the front of the heroine's body, "take her as you need her." The scarlet clad heroine abruptly turned to face the throne with her eyes still grasping on to an undisturbed shallowness; she clearly was just not all there, "feast upon her," the woman concluded as she fell down lower to the floor.

"Good, cause I'm starving," a storming movement of multiple feet ensued, the red hooded cult members turning around to find the source of the highly enthusiastic voice, the foreign element that no doubt would play a role in their downfall if not dealt with quickly. The entrance way down into the cults lair had indeed been blocked by the young heroes Nightwing and Supergirl, the latter standing wither her arms bounded across her chest and right shouldered muscled up aiming down aim while the former was crouched lowly to the ground with hands flopping in between the stretch of his raised knees, "ah," he cringed with an excess of salvia pouring into the basin of his lower jaw with a sickly feel, "that's just…just disgusting." Nightwing declared upon completing his analysis of the hollow cusp of a shell, the Warlock in his chair of bones, "I've never done a horror story before. I don't do horror!" he looked up to Supergirl with a nod though the heroine was steadfast in ignoring his every word.

"You will do no such thing to her!" Supergirl commanded there attention, letting her arms drop nearly simultaneously with the formation of her well tested fists. She bent her arms at the elbows, poised for a boxing match of sorts, "Let her go or I'll bring this place down on you."

"I am so…hungry…" the offsetting voice of the Warlock found some ground with the increasing strength of his voice, "they must not interfere when I am eating…."

"Fine," Supergirl extended her arm straight ahead of herself, aimed down the line that inevitably crossed paths with the sickly looking creature while going through the line of red hooded cult members, eyes narrowing down upon him with evidence of rage in her shapely thin blue eyebrows.

"What are you…" Nightwing started up but before he could even reach the conclusion of his question the swift speed of Supergirl had sent towards him a brush of wind that nearly toppled him over, forcing him to lay down his outer knee to regain balance, "…do?" he wavered off in a whimper. Supergirl gave into the power that her strengths provided, flying above the ground less than an inch forcing her legs to fall behind just ever so slightly with toes aimed downward while her extended arm with attaching fist aimed through the red coats' ranks, slicing them down between their weak side to side connection before slamming down upon the breaks, throwing her heels down hard against the ground displacing the little pebbles of dirt towards the decrepit looking man, splattering him with a sea of minerals.

"Mary?" Supergirl lunged up to grab hold of her scarlet clad counterpart and forcibly twisted her around to face her straight on, "Miss Marvel?" she continued to prod for the support of the older heroine but repeatedly got lost in the unmoving deep blue hues of her eyes. "Snap out of this please?" she quickly turned to pleading but alas there were no signs of life within her and before she realized it, her fingers were clawing into the woman's shoulders to some serious effect.

"Yeah, of course, I've got this handled," Nightwing commented sorely to himself as the red figures quickly began to corner his back against the entrance way with its creepy stairway leading back up to the cemetery grounds. A high pitched shrill scream to his left side instinctively pulled him over to look with arms bracing for an imminent encounter; however it was soon revealed that one of the cult members decided to make a horribly off balance run at the teen hero but the excess fabric of her gown had proved to be an unsuitable match for the fast paced movements of her feet and before she knew it her hands had turned away from a tackling manoeuvre and became arms of support, falling flatly to the ground just in front of the person she had hopes to assail. The little tipsy event however worked much to the advantage to the others as the distraction usurped Nightwing of his battling focus allowing them to turn on him with some mismatching thumps of their fists against his sides. "Back off," he squeaked, tossing out a side swiping swing of his arm taking out two of them before shifting over to one the balance of one leg and twirling out his other, placing the end of his sole firmly upon the chest of one of his attackers before falling back to a straightened posture that allowed him to place a levelling punch up through the darkened hood of another cult member, knuckles collapsing on the hardness of the lady's nose which most assuredly cracked under the pressure.

"Come on Marvel," Supergirl let her fingers stretch out with the breadth of her palms, eyes wavering over the indented marks along the costume that she had formed float back out into their state of normalcy. Although only seconds had passed since she had taken hold of her friend, she was steadily declining into disbelief and general astonishment over the apparent loss of Miss Marvel's heroic consciousness.

"You are utterly pitiful in your attempts girl," a slippery dry tongue of the warlock beckoned the young hero to look in his direction further cementing within her this garish appearance of his characterized by the dwindling facial structure which was most recognizable for the small boiling bubbles that firstly blossomed then flattened once again along his otherwise leather tight skin, "I have sent out my soul in its various vessels to find my power and while in my travels my children have found this woman's magic. I have infected her, day by day placing more of my essence inside of her being…and I accomplished this goal when I was not but weak, broken by the forces of your evil," Supergirl grunted loudly as a surprise punch levelled into her stomach, Miss Marvel had regained some existence though under some heavy suggestion. The powerful punch left her breathless and nearly threw her off balance, making her wobble about for a bit with arms flailing forward but any time that could be allotted to recovery was soon lost under a heavy stomp, Miss Marvel having quickly gotten hold of the girl's arms to draw her in close so that the sole of her boot could pound away at the 'S' shield on her chest, furthering her descent backwards, crushing her to the floor with a crashing crack that made her want to scream in agony; as a warrior though, such a reaction was not tolerated and so she laid in silence as the soaring head pains escalated. "I have returned to my wholeness, my oneness. I am at full power now, what chance do you have to break the spell I have placed over her?" Supergirl clenched down her teeth as she attempted to raise her head but found the pressure to be unbearably strong against her. Her eyes opened widely as the Warlock's jaw continued to act oddly in its barren falling arrangement, teeth all decayed to charcoal black with slight tips of caramel coloured browns, "she is now without pity, without remorse or any judgement of her own…she is simply mine."

"Let her go," Supergirl ferociously gnawed her fingers into Miss Marvel's ankle and swivelling them around as best as she could as she attempted one last push to get her back up from the ground. Though she put forward all her might, the foot pinning her down was not budged from its position; her arms dropped back down to the floor and she quickly took massive intakes of air spaced in quick intervals, truly exhausted from all that had happened through the day's adventure, but Miss Marvel, she was like a machine that never stopped working despite what was thrown in her gears, indeed, what chance did she really stand?

"You are indeed powerful," the Warlock began again with the inconsistent moans that threatened the shattering of his own bowed out neck, "but neither you nor your friends possess the kind of power I crave…" the face within the chest embedded amulet began to light up again in the coursing white strength, the eyes and white mouth looking bar being the leaders in shine as it overcame the red colouration and accompanying gold trim, "you are welcome to join the dead here, but first," the Warlocks head seemed to nod through the reverberating bubbles on its skin, tilting forward slightly to show the girl on the floor the steadily growing intensity of yellow fate ridden light within the deep crevices of his eye sockets, "I am so terribly hungry.

Supergirl watched in silent horror as the blinding light of the amulet began to lurch outward from its stone configuration, sending out a multitude of thin cord like tendrils that wrapped around each other, in and out of the tight thinned out holes their long squirmy bodies created, slowly making a path over top of her body, raised no higher than Miss Marvel's waistline, aimed as it were towards the kneeling figure just at her side. A single pace away from colliding with the hooded woman, the beam of energy snapped out into a their multiple threads, exploding all around her body with their whip like abilities, slamming down along her sides to the point of nearly blotting her out. The cords pressed around her cloth bound wrists, tortuously pulling them apart against her strength to hold them side to side while a series of others immediately shot into the front hole of her hood, brightening up the dark shadow within to grasp around her oval head and hold on tightly. It was all over so quickly; the skeletal structure of the woman's body was ripped free of its skin holster though not by any conventional means, being that it was fully engrossed in the yellow bent energy within the sightless holes of the Warlock's eyes that forced the clean bloodless ripping. She phased through the cloth of the red gown with relative ease, carried away in the retracting beam of tendrils, crumpling down to a little tennis ball, snapping the limbs and contorting the circular sheen of her skull into the depths of her stomach; all that remained of her was the huddled mass of her cloak.

"I'm still hungry," the warlock moaned as the coloured wholeness of his chest centre amulet returned to its natural order though too much frightening effect, the gentle humming glow of the more overt facial features was retained. "By the powers of Shazam, she will return me to my proper form. I will take on her essence, her power will be mine," the lines became infatuated with a sense of greedy intent, the strength of his gangly thin vocal cords having been firstly fixed through the absorption of the magic wielder that was one of the cult members. "I have not forgotten my promise to you…"

Nightwing threw out one last jab to the stomach of the final standing member of the apparent twelve person cult before moving onto to a more finishing move, taking his hand along the woman's shoulder and bolstering up her knee into the lower rung of her ribcage knocking out all the air from her lungs. The cult members laid sprawled out along the stone floors, knocked out from the heavy beat down or were much too weak willed to stand and return to the battle at hand; their faith was no doubt faltering in the unsightly disappearance of one of their members. "Easy," he mumbled to himself with a smile before realizing through the sea of scarlet red the smashing foot of Miss Marvel overtop of Supergirl. He was all prepared to get ready to tackle the magic based heroine but in step he found himself focussing upon the escalating light of the Warlock's amulet, lifting outward from the dome with the wispy tendrils of energy, flipping around with zigzagging patterns that bent and twirled around at strange angles, morphing throughout the room with a growing immensity like jungle dominating vines. The leap proved to be fallible as the raise was quickly continued when several of the roof clinging cords flipped down towards him, wrapping around his shoulders, sticking along the inner placements of his armpits and pulling upwards forcing his legs to run off awkwardly with the loss of friction before they too were found by the grasping tendrils and pulled away from another, "now would be a good time to do something amazing!" he shouted with a keen look towards his still heavily pinned colleague but was more so startled to find it was not all just the brunt of Miss Marvel's boot keeping her in check with the floor but also now the flowing tentacles that had gathered in force around him. Both young heroes' eyes felt themselves drawn to the centre of the amulets, staring deep within the whiteness of the eyes through the thin sliced tentacles; Supergirl fought against the pull with all the strength she could muster, forcing the strands that ran down her neck to tighten and harden while Nightwing fully gave in with very little a fight, the results of one pulled in face to face. With a single burst of blinding light, everything to them went black.

* * *

"Whoa…" Nightwing moaned with an accompanying grunt noise. He started slowly to get up from the ground, uncertain as to whether he should be thrilled to be conscious in some form or terrified over the fact he had no idea what had happened or whom or what had brought him into this particular laying down position. Up onto his knees, the young hero looked around the scene he was in; returned to the old cemetery with its many stone protrusions and of course the bodies underneath though such a fact did not seem to have the same effect within his stomach as it did earlier, counting such a thing off as being an acquired tolerance. "Supergirl?" he cried out as he turned a full circle with his head, following the track line of the grey twine metal fence that surrounded the sizable plot of land. The Bluebird was still parked a dozen metres away along the runway the epitaph ridden stones falsely created. He was more than ready to make his way over there when he caught onto a blue image a short distance away from him, lightly buried within the grass along the horizon that led into the town of crypts, laying within the old section more characterized by its rise of stone monuments to those whom had fallen in long past times. "That was the amazing something I was looking for," Nightwing chuckled as he caught onto the deep blue of Supergirl's eyes as she raised her head, "you do care about me…" he affirmed himself.

"Are you alright?" Supergirl called out as she flipped up the side of her body to face her kneeling comrade.

"Yeah," Nightwing bolted up to his feet, "I'm ok." He then began to shake his head, holding onto a wide smile that bordered upon hysterics, "that was so quick, I didn't even see you move," he commended her, "how did you do that?" he then suddenly slumped and pulled up a hand to the side of his head, "wait…" his free hand raised a stopping gesture towards her, "I've probably got it on video…I totally spaced out in those final moments."

"What are you talking about?" Supergirl moaned as she shifted her weight around to her arms, finding an foot high plateau, a metre long tombstone with its silvery sheen and writing to balance her hands against to aid in her rise, "I didn't do…anything…" she slowed to a quieted whisper as her eyes narrowed upon the length of her arm, breath stunned motionless from fear.

"Ah fuzzy," Nightwing pounded the flat of palm against his temple, throwing out his disgusted sentiments with the most light-hearted of foot pounds against the cemetery floor. He soon found the sudden silence of Supergirl to be disturbing and thought of himself as being the cause in some respect, "Alright, alright, look," Nightwing placed his hands cordially at his waist sides, while his head hobbled around on the support of his neck, "I understand the whole care about everyone thing, that you're always available to everyone just as your father was. And I get that you don't like me," he stuttered along, "I'm ok with that. I know you'll be there when you can…" he let out a heavy expulsion of breath, "I was just hoping that we could at least, I don't know…be friends?" The happy looking features upon his façade soon faded as the haunting image of Supergirl really supplanted themselves within his mind; she still knelt there against the tombstones front, hovering over top of it while seemingly shaking all over, "Supergirl?" he crooked his head to the side and narrowed his vision in on her, "Lara?" When the silence and stillness proved unbearable for the boys patience, he picked up to a light run towards her, sliding down to his knees as he came to an abrupt stop at the steel ledge of the tombstone, glancing above its surface just as she had been doing so but was quite startled to find it was not the contents of the epitaph that had gained her absolute attention.

"Look," Supergirl stated through a hushing sound. The stretch of her arm beyond her elbow had disappeared, gone seemingly beyond the grave marker's heavy plate. She slowly retracted her arm bringing forth an unbelievable state of shock within Nightwing as he became engrossed in the arms fullness; she had phased in and out of the grave without an single stifling in her movements, "I've never done this before," she looked up to the boy with a horrified look, the kind he had never expected to ever see upon her delicate glistening face.

Nightwing gulped before manning up to try the amazing feat himself, letting his right hand hover over top of one of the things that frightened him most and simply plunge in and so to it he went after the briefest moment of contemplation, slowly parting through the top of the tombstone with first the circular arm bands around his forearms followed by the extension of his upper arm bending over top as needed before he quickly whipped his hand back in revile, tossing it through the air as though it wasn't his; not a thing could be felt through the ground, no cement top, no dirt and certainly no body below.

Supergirl began to rock back and forth a bit on the support of her knees, eyes looking to her side watching as Nightwing's arm returned comfortably to his sides. They stared at each other for a long moment, gauging the fear that had made itself an unassailable tower within their minds through the fascinating growth of their visible eyeballs. Supergirl briefly looked away for a moment before returning along with her hand, nodding somewhat with the bounce of her eyes for Nightwing to follow suit with his own hand. Slowly the palms faced into one another, lingering onward towards each other before coming together with a firm grasp, Supergirl being the first to tighten her fingers deeply within the cracks of Nightwing's fingers, letting her eyes close somewhat in relief though knowing not of what this meant.

Nightwing huffed and puffed away with heavy gulps of oxygen, "I think we're dead."


	29. Young Justice Beyond 8

Young Justice Beyond #8  
Volume 1. Story 6  
The Jokerz and Paradise

* * *

The soft curving clouds that blotted out the heavens was cooling down from the subduing grey sheen that it was to a spanning canvas of white; the rain had come and gone, leaving its mark along the shores of Rhode island. The mulching of green grass and robust brown dirt in their tempered forms crumpled together along an uneven line that mirrored the coast though maintaining a hefty distance beyond the touch of sea water; however, despite its crumbling materials, the wall it formed was quite exemplary in its reach to the sky, heading upwards of two full sized persons and then some thereby creating quite the cliff rise. It would have been a wondrous sight from atop the cliff edge if only the water from the inlet nearby had actually bothered to creep along the shore and cling to its siding for the beauty that could have been was mired by the ocean of sand below or rather the lack thereof. It was not that the plot of land was sizable below the cliff, indeed it was spaced out enough to support the brunt of a full sized arena, rather it was the composition of its soil that was of much distaste. The glassy glint of sand had been smashed together in hard clumps that would take no less than a dozen poundings with ones boot to break apart into a more silky vocation; a multitude of these darkened blobs stretched out throughout the coast line as though the bowels of the earth had erupted to the surface.

There was however one particular strip of dirt that was well stripped down to the more soft marshy soil that lived beneath the carpet of torn up mounds. Though this spot was relatively small, devoid of any connecting lines to the paths that could leave upwards over the wall of grass and dirt chunks, it was this lone path that led towards the Justice Cave, a monolithic outcrop from the cliff side, bending outwards of its bubbly thick brown soil to become its own in a plain grey stone. The top of the cave was tall with a capping dome top and relatively smooth as a result of decades of weathering though still rather jagged in seamless sinking indentations along its surface down. The entrance way inside was near double the size of a normal sized door with an half oval top side that rode all the way down the long slightly curving tunnel which was quite well recognized for the crispness of its silver lined floor in contrast to the outside dirt patches. The cave and surrounding beachhead had been experiencing an resurgence in popularity as of late, though possibly not the kind that the surrounding community of Happy Harbour was hoping for. The cave had a long history of heroic ownership; built by the Justice League, it was soon abandoned before being picked up by a more youthful team, a Justice League Junior whom finished off their tenure here by destroying it. Millions of dollars in repairs but the team never returned. The lease has since landed in several hands before finally coming into the hands of the most recent team, another youthful group of super-kids who hopefully won't be bring on an oncoming storm of villainy or destroy half the island when they leave.

Adding a stream of colour across the sky was an emerald figure, a Green Lantern in full flight. At Iota's age, his height was average though he filled out the heroic image by bulking up his body with distinguishable muscles have long since recognized the necessity in having a strong arm in what he did before picking up the ring; namely escapology as a hobby and the occasional running around with the young like-minded boys who hoped one day to be enforcers in organized crime. Things had changed for him now but the worth ethic was retained, comparably intensified even more somewhat with the pushing of Kyle Rayner, the veteran Lantern assigned to the protection of the ring around his finger which by all accounts refused to be budged even the smallest bit. His hair was moderately dark, straight as it ran off the ledge of his forehead, running its length over top of a sizable, yet thin, emerald coloured rectangular block that moulded to his face coving his nose and eyes producing a rather milky green sheen in the rectangular shaped eye slots; the only abstractions to its straight edges were four angular piece, two to each side and aiming in opposing directions, the top set being rather diagonally structured as it approached his temples and the bottom set angling inward to flatten upon his upper cheeks. The vibrant dark green of his mask continued throughout his armaments and on occasion being blended out from the otherwise full black body suit beginning with a solid line that approached a sizable distance from his collar bone and lapped overtop of his shoulder creating something of a shoulder pad like look. A centimetre thick hexagonal shaped outline was at the centre of his chest and contained within it two white triangular bits that while being hour glass like in simplest terms stretch out within the outlined shape to create the distinctive Lantern of the Corp he was awaiting to be inducted into fully. The colour continued onward to his thick blocky boots that stopped just short of the knees and similarly flavoured gloves that let his organic fingers roam free. It was a costume of his mental design, though there were traces of outside influences in particular aspects.

For much of his flight over, Iota had maintained his body quite flatly, stomach aimed to the ground with his legs hanging out quite closely together while tossing out his arms for the sake of balance which always gave him a smile when he flapped them around bring about the spraying of the illustrious Lantern energy from the back edge of his hands; it was an experience that he was learning to enjoy now, not just an ability that was in of itself a natural occurrence. The path of flight had him soaring high above the shoreline but upon spotting the cave he suddenly lowered his head, straightened his arms ahead of his body and took a well-balanced dive through the sky, taken into a line of sight that placed him on a collision course with the cave's mouth. In a matter of seconds the features of the shore, the smoothed off hide of the cave the marshy composition of the cliff side became all too clear but lasted for such a short time for he was rapidly treading a trail up the tunnel leading into the team's head quarter's, giving off all sorts of new life to the stainless silver panels of the interior with his strong glow.

The interior of the cave was rather plain and simple; continuing on the pattern of silver stainless sheets from the tunnel through the floor and up along the walls though coming to an abrupt stop about a floor and half up from the flat ground, breaking off into the protruding smooth faces of rock with various etches. The cumbersome room maintained a rather square orientation with few exceptions on account of the cave seemingly being more so oblong in its original shape previous to the remodelling some years back. To the adjacent wall of the cave's mouth was a massive wall crunching computer; a wide screen that went above and beyond the cut off of the silver metal siding and looked capable of fitting over a hundred bodies lying down within it. A slightly slanted board at about stomach height ran the full length underneath the monitor but it was obvious from the white rubber topped keypads towards the centre that there was a central hub of activity, not that the barbershop style metal tube and black cushioned chair nearby did not already insinuate such. At the moment all systems appeared to be off, the gel like tone of the screen being nothing more than sheen of darkness with not even a glint of light from the surrounding sources.

The walls that opposed both the computer console and the large opening had to them three very simple looking slide across doors with only heavy looking dark bluish-grey trim defining them as being such. Almost immediately to the right of the opening was a round wooden topped table that despite such classic materials appeared to be quite sturdy; a well varnished furniture emplacement, it was best regarded for the superimposed gold lettering 'JLA' across its surface in its stylized font and logo border. Situated around the circular table were a dozen or so white chairs that somewhat resembled eggs with a serious cut inward of the shells to allow some black seated cushioning within. On the back side of each of these egg chairs were logos representing the various heroes whom have sat here from time to time, ranging from the wide spanning black bat emblem, to the streaking yellow bolt of lightning representing the flash and also the green coloured circle with two sizable bars at its top and bottom, the traditional logo of the Green Lantern heralding from earth.

Well inside the cave, Iota circled up to an upright stance before finally floating out his palms to the floor in a haphazard attempt to land solidly on the floor with both feet, the smile still boldly showing despite the sudden two foot drop to the floor the moment his emerald shield dissipated into air particles. His knees collapsed in anticipation of hitting the floor but he was quickly back up on the strength of his extended legs and enjoying the atmosphere within the cave, nodding his head upwards to take a look at the narrowing rock walling structures that rounded to the evident dome top which was blotted out fiercely by a powerful ray of light that echoed throughout the cave with the aid of additional lighting source that rounded throughout the cave walls thereby giving the headquarters a day light appearance while maintaining a slate blue glow that was almost oceanic.

Throughout the progression of his poor landing and eye filled wonderment of the cave top, the resident speedster, Interval, was watching intently from his position beside the table, his backside aiming towards the monstrous monitor he was usually found facing against. His hands were glued to his waists and his face shared there to be no emotion though the thoughts that were ripping through his mind at the speed of sound if ever vocalized could possibly portray a more rounded character but for the moment, he was completely still, completely silent.

The scarlet colour of the Flash family were boldly displayed throughout Interval's body: shin high boots, the stunted tight gloves that meagrely reached beyond his wrists, his cowl piece, as well as a body encompassing triangular piece that wrapped around his shoulders and aimed down to a blunted flat point at his waist line where it divided in to a thin lightning bolt design that rode over top of his upper leg joints like a belt. The rest of the uniform held to a straight black that blended quite well with the blood like hue of the scarlet; however aside from such a gritty redefinition of the typical Flash costume, the boy was proud enough to maintain what was oft considered essential features of those who would be The Flash, that being the decades old logo: a circle of white within a raised black boundary with a shock yellow bolt of lightning striking through from one side and out across another. Additional associated costume elements included silvery circular pieces that connected to his ears with a small yellow metal bolts flaring out to the back of his head. To cap off such an arrangement were square goggle pieces, tinted a light yellow, giving apt protection to his line of vision.

"Yeah," Iota smirked with a nod towards his teammate, "it's all really beginning to sink in, peck at me pretty hard….never thought I'd feel this good," a slight chuckle exited his mouth, "doing so much good," he rose up the backside of his ring hand and used his other to wave in a presenting matter at the shiny device, "being a super hero rips!"

"My powers do not enable me to fly," Interval stepped in with a straight monotone, "but I do believe your form could use some work."

"Ok," Iota dropped his hands and responded with a sarcastic flair, "Kyle's got me doing stuff at the JLA's workout arena…supposed to be starting up hand to hand combat this week," his eyes squinted up as the happiness seemed to usher away into its polar opposite.

"That troubles you?"

"Didn't really think it mattered all that much," Iota was quick to shoot back with some heavy hand gestures, "the ring sort of does everything I need. I mean, he's got me already steadying blueprints and the such to help build up my constructs."

"I was under the belief that a Lantern Ring inherently possessed such statistics," Interval prodded with a simple crook in his neck.

"I only wish that was the case," Iota formed a fist with his ring hand, the spark within its circular top beginning to fluctuate strongly before blossoming out into a thin stream of energy that curved outward and then fell upon the floor. Quickly, lines began to form a rectangular box about an inch thick laying flatly against the ground before a sudden appearance of four long arched spider like metallic legs appeared along the sides, two to each, with their sharpened off points aimed within the floor, extending upwards to give the central box some life, raising it up a couple feet, "it's just kind of weird," the spider legs began to shift forward towards the wall opposing the entrance way ever so slightly, pulling back like a regular legs before shifting forward in sync with every other part but it quickly became obvious that there was something wrong with the solid green creature as it appeared to be on the verge of toppling on account of the circular movements the legs began to take, rotating rather than fluctuating back and forth, "I can make a car pretty easily, I know how it all works but this morning I was studying some of this all-terrain drones and I can't help but slip back into imagining the movements of a car's axle." The solid features of his generated construct began to lose focus, falling back into the straight edged hollow lines, "when I'm under pressure I can pretty much make anything my mind can think of but like in moments like this, down time…I can't do anything but mess up," Iota shook his head in dissatisfaction.

"Why doesn't your ring compensate for the lack of data?" Interval continued his prodding.

Iota seemingly raised an eyebrow, stretching his mask up on one side, "It's a new kind of ring," he picked up into a disgruntled tone, "it's got the intelligence of a five year-old. Supposed to learn along with its wielder or something…."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Interval scrunched up his face as his hands suddenly dropped from their hard pressed position to lay limp along his sides.

"You're just kind of cold dude," Iota licked his lips a little, "come on, you're like the only person I can talk to about this talk to about this kind of stuff," his eyes wavered around with the intention of avoiding the speedster's glare, "it just seems that you know everything about us but we know absolutely nothing about you…" A moment of suspicious silence ensued, the two heroes returning awkward looks to one another. Interval made very little movement while Iota hobbled from side to side for a short time by the tap of his toes before picking back up into a conversational tone, "you're like an alien from the future."

"I'm not an alien," Interval slowly turned away to face the monitor screen, intent on walking over, "you," he stated fiercely, "I know very much about, your educational standing, your prior criminal activities-"

"What? Are you concerned I'm going to just turn on everyone someday when the opportunity presents itself?" Iota grunted with his interrupting question, "look, I tried my own thing a short time back and it didn't turn out very well [Iota#5], you've got to believe that I need to turn my life around especially now that I've got all this power," he watched the speedster walk slower than he had ever seen him do before, puzzled by his pace, "Kyle's got me under his thumb anyway," he nodded affirmatively, "there's nothing I can be doing that he won't know about."

"Accessing data on your life was relatively easy," Interval came to a resounding stop in front of the computer board, slipping his fingers across the rubber pads that covered the buttons as he continued onward in his informative tone that came across as rather arrogant, "and while your birth records are a bit muddled, there is a coherent story throughout your life," he tipped his chin up to his shoulder, "I'm not concerned over your loyalties, at times I myself am uncertain as to where I stand regarding 'heroics' in this era."

"Good," Iota responded softly following a heavy gulp.

"It is our other member that concerns me more so," Interval refocused upon the computer panel, tapping the brunt of his fingertips upon a square inch button off to the right side of a more letter oriented keyboard. He exerted enough pressure upon this button to flatten it down so it almost became seamless with the bulk of the long panel strip and in a near instant of letting his hand go the monitor screen brightened up with a white flash that echoed throughout its darkness before numbing out to the brighten hue of black; on but no image inputted at the moment.

"Nightwing?"

"I have the habit of investigating all persons I am likely to be working with," Interval continued, "since I am an immigrant from the future, I have developed some concern that what I do in this era might adversely affect the future. So I have taken careful steps to avoid contact as much as possible." His gloved hand slipped down from the power button, fluctuating downward a bit to come across a smoothly indented square about three times the size of the button. This patch was rightfully distinguishable from the rest of the rubber coated buttons for its rare shade of light grey and more so clingy touch though not so much so that his fingers wouldn't cross along it without relative ease.

"Hence the no public policy you were pushing [YJB#6-7]," Iota folded his arms across his chest with a dissatisfied shrug of his shoulders, "but aren't you still saving people? I mean, that's why you hang out with us right?"

"Nightwing," Interval firmly stated, brushing off his teammate's questions with ignorance, "does not have a coherent story that I can follow, even evidence of his future activity is absent from my recollections." Along the grey toned panel he slipped his thumb and index finger closer together, tracing out an imaginary square like shape. Following in line with the movements of his fingers, the light fuzz of white glistened through the otherwise black screen drew in closer to him, cropping the massive monitor screen down to a single rectangular shape in front of him that was about a metre in length and about half a metre more in height. "About two years ago it seems that he just sort of arrived here…no birth record, no parent or prior guardian information, no educational history…he sort of just came to be leading me to draw a number of conclusions that I have yet to affirm with him."

"Yeah, where is he?" Iota glanced around the cave space oddly knowing full well that the spastic boy would not be seen. He kicked up his boots and started heading towards the monitor screen whose single splotch in front of Interval had developed into a glistening sheen of deep sea blue with the occasional thin line of a bright sky baby blue flowing through it in circular patterns much to the eyes' delight.

"I've been trying to contact him for the last hour," Interval sharply responded, "but I haven't been able to get a hold of him."

"Well," Iota let out a single forced cough as he puffed up his chest, "it's not like we ever needed him anyway." The emerald armoured covered boy came to a stop at Interval's side, turning his body inward slightly so as to peer at the screen, the evident three dimensional imaging kicking in almost immediately as the blue depth appeared almost infinite in its grasp, "what have you got us coming in for anyway?"

"I thought we should build up some credit with the Justice League before we are to assume a position as their subordinates," Interval tapped away at the keypad and instantly the curving baby blue lines punctured through the blue space to form comprehensible words and images mostly confined to well cornered outlines "some of their general mission feeds are open to members and associated teams on an open and available basis. I believe I've found one that suits us well and offers a low risk of danger."

"Oh," Iota scoffed, "that'll be fun…" he nodded through the moment of silence, kicking up his backside against the slanted computer board, arms pulled up his chest once more as he attempted to gauge the facial reaction of his speedster teammate whose fingers rattled against the keypad, "well…?" he spaced off with a jeering open tooth smile, "what is it?"

"It's a satellite connection chip," Interval sharply replied, "Wayne Enterprises' universal connecter, model number D3C3-N20."

* * *

The Blue Bird, Nightwing's personal vehicle, had come to a soft landing upon the crystal clear shores of Themyscira. The washing water was the truest of blues, flushing into the silky feeling sand plots leaving its impression upon it, flattening the small dunes to a rigid plateau of grey. It was just beyond the incoming tide that the Blue Bird had come to rest, its wide spanning narrowing spike ended wings sinking in through its sandy composure several centimetres before coming across the hard blocks of earth beneath. The wings, while securely thick in form, bowed outer on a curvature that appeared to line up well with the central pod which was rather oval in shape with the exception of its backside which was abruptly flat on account of a box like apparatus. While much of the craft was black, the interior sides of the wings consisted of neon blue panels which no doubt added some punch while hovering around Gotham City and the like but out here on the shores of paradise, such a contribution made the craft even more recognizable from a distance much to his dismay. The heavily navy blue tinted windshield had slipped forward along its holding track to allow a single body to pop out from the cockpit, "hello Deyna," Todd's clambered his black glove covered hands onto the flatter top side of the windshield piece before letting them slide down to the more angled areas along the sides as he used the leverage to prop himself out of his chair. His hair was the purest of black, his eyes the aquatic emulation of the ocean blues, his complexion the source of envy even to the gods, his smile wide with the tightest forming of lips and complimenting straight laced teeth; he was everything his parentage could create, he belonged here in this land of the beautiful but was quickly deemed unacceptable for reasons of one crucial factor he could not hope to change at this time; his gender.

A girl about his age stood nearby the long heavy craft, smiling a closed smile while bobbing the breadth of her crossing arms back and forth from her stomach out in anticipation of her friend making his way to the ground to join her. Her eyes were large emerald green gems within the most luscious of light sitting lashes that matched so well to the style and flair of her natural red hair which under these such wondrous condition fluctuated towards a flushing blonde under the majesty of the ever present sunshine; tied into a single knot with an elastic red band at the top of her scalp, the thread lines of her hair bundled together to form a long tail that trailed down her backside. She wore a white toga like uniform that left her arms exposed at the shoulder cut off line and shortened into a small skirt that barely reached down the centre of her thighs, justifiably so as scarlet red was wrapped around her legs all the way down to her ankles, leading off into the tight brown sandals with their various cross thatching straps meagrely crawling up her shin over top of the pant legs. She truly belonged amongst the Amazons on this island, a right earned through her birth and forever shown in her great endowing beauty and delicately strong physique.

"Are you sure they're not going to spot me?" Todd shot a look towards Deyna as he propped up the rest of his body from the pilot's seat revealing the geometrically sound blue falcon that splashed across his chest with wide spanning straight edge wings. He was indeed where much of his Nightwing costume, taking off only the circular steel arm bands that usually wrapped around his forearms thereby showing the extent of his black sleeves, stretching all the way to the end of his fingertips. His attention returned back to the inside of the Blue Bird's pod, sitting neatly on the ledge while his hands lurched inside as though to grab hold of something.

Deyna nodded reassuringly, "patrols just passed through here," her smile grew larger as Todd hopped on down from the craft's side, landing to the ground with a light thud that saw the bulk of his floppy grey boots sink into the sand, his front side slightly covered in a thick blue strap that supported on his back a rather robust looking satchel, a large box of sorts situated inside a cumbersome amount of blue tinged fabric which he carried with ease as he approached her, "they won't be back around again for a few hours…besides," she gulped as she took on a more sullen appearance, "I have a place we can go where we won't be interrupted."

Todd took in a large breath, relaxing slightly as the gently breeze teased his cheeks. Ahead of him was a massive cliff face, strong in its clay like material, outcropping only slight with a well-trodden path zigzagging along the wall side leading to smaller plateaus at the side that no doubt gave breath taking views of the open clean ocean before inevitably reaching to the top ground with its natural abundance of plant life in their vibrant colours; it was paradise unto itself but the boy could not help but hold a disparaging view of the island and not just because of the obvious shunning of his existence, rather the city was where he always felt like he belonged and this place, while a city in its own right, was anything but the kind he recognized as being homely. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to come back sooner," Todd came to a stop a short two paces of knocking into Deyna, eyes coming down from the thick grass enough tops of the cliff to the delightful mixture green hues embedded within Deyna's eyes, "I've been kind of busy with the whole super hero thing."

Deyna blinked oddly, "I wasn't sure the communicator you gave me was working, but then here you are talking to me through it…."

"Ah," Nightwing raised up his index finger, "see; I believe the magic field around Themyscira prevents communication with the outside world. I had to fly my way through the barrier first before you could actually contact me, but no worries, I don't think that'll ever be a problem again."

"It won't?"

"Yep," Todd smiled as he quickly turned his chin to his right shoulder while pulling for the large satchel from his backside, "I've brought a gift," the backpack slipped around to his side where his hands instantly picked up around the scrunching sides of the pulled tight top, pulling the elastic grip apart to get inside.

Deyna's face scrunched up, "a gift?"

"Wayne, the man I work for, well sort of…." Todd grunted as his hands had found the piece he desired with in bag and began fiercely tugging away at it with mixed results, "is one of the owners of this massive business that builds all sorts of electronics and like. So one of his tech guys has finally managed to build a portable universal satellite controller that can get reception through everything…and I mean everything," he annunciate with uptight excitement with less than a brief looked up to his redheaded friend with popping open eyes.

"I don't…" Deyna stumbled into a stutter, attempting to regain Todd's lost attention.

"Got it," Todd's hands whipped out from the bag, pulling free from it a rather small device, at least in comparison to the large shaped backpack it was pulled out from. The bulk of the object was a silver shined rectangular bar about as thick as his arm but only held a length of about three inches. Running a full line down the centre of it was a flat faced blue strap that appeared to run tightly around both sides; however, it was the side that Todd had facing up that was of importance for on top of the blue strap was a rigid array of small mountainous dark grey bubbly connected objects that generally looked to be hobbling along the blue strip like small toy boats. "It's cool right?" the bulk of his bag slipped back around to his backside freeing both hands to the grab hold of the device with flat palms, showcasing a set of two circular metal bulbs on each side that connected at the ends of short simple black cable wires.

"What's a satellite?"

Todd's jittery, hunched shoulders, wide eyed features of excitement suddenly subsided, becoming flatly confused with the straightening of his back to its upright position while his eyes narrowed in upon his friend, "I…" he stuttered to let the words free as his right hand slid up to the centre of the device, fluttering down comfortably to his side, "I guess I don't really know, never had a reason to think about it I suppose," his voice rang out with uncertainty, his left hand reaching to grab his chin in a habitual movement brought about by internal contemplation, "there is sort of these things that fly around the earth in outer space," he piqued up with a returning smile followed by a strong arm toss of his hand from his chin and out towards the clear blue skies.

"Really?" Deyna let her head sway from side to side, disbelief oozing from her eyes.

"Yeah," Todd chuckled, "there's a whole lot of amazing things going on above us right now," Deyna unflinchingly stared into his eyes all the more making him feel warm with inexplicable happiness, a kind of thrill he rarely felt when he was simply Todd, "these satellites, they're like these metal things that float around the planet…see, our communicators send out these invisible signals to one another, but say that I'm on the other side of the world and we still want to talk to each other but we can't because the signal is too long."

"Kind of like how I've been trying to contact you since you left?" Deyna blinked for the first time in a long while, dimming down the excited effects within Todd in a near instant.

"No, I…I'm sorry about that," Todd confided with a heavy gulp, "I guess should I have explained the communicator better…blame that on your mother by the way," he waved the extension of his index finger, "no, it basically allows long distance communication. I send one signal up to one of the orbiting satellites and it retransmits the signal to you." Deyna nodded in affirmation though it was plainly obvious from her empty smile that she was failing to comprehend the strange words, "it's a bit more complicated than that…" he hummed along, "the magical shield thingy surrounding the island doesn't allow us to reach the satellites, but now we can with the D3C2…D3C3 dash something," he began to stumbled in his words as the hand returned back to his chin in contemplation, "did I say that it could get through anything?"

* * *

"It was originally developed for deep sea and earth exploration," Interval gently lifted his fingers from the console board just as soon as the called upon image sifted its way through the screen of blue, "it used a process called smart waving, where the transmitted signal would continuously attempt penetration through all barriers until it finds its target." A thin lined baby blue panel arrived at the forefront of the screen, the translucent image embedded within it depicting that of a long metallic silvery electronics board with the single strap of a distinct blue hue heading along its flat face with a series of grey mounds running along its top. "It was slated to have the capability to break through even the most solid of barriers."

"What?" Iota tipped his body inward towards the screen, leaning around and ahead of his teammate to get a better look at the image that appeared to pop out towards him the more he had drawn himself closer to it.

"Well actually, not everything is as solid as it appears," Interval contended along with the slight ruffling of his shoulders, turning inwards to face the encroaching Iota who would soon be blocking his view, "the smart waves have been shown to break down the transmitted signal to the particle level allowing it to phase through the particles layer that comprises the barrier and eventually rematerialize the signal once its past…it's sort of like a transporter in that respect. It's quite revolutionary for this era."

"No," Iota shook his head as he fell back from the screen, reassuming his position at Interval's side, "I'm not going to understand any of this…why is the league so interested in a civilian project?"

"Wayne had the project shut down personally," Interval continued in his crisp tone, "the smart waves had a way of penetrating all orbiting satellites and while publically pirating was one of the main issues brought up, secretly, the D3C3-N20 fell into League concern when it was discovered that their satellites could also be penetrated." Interval's right foot began to tap rapidly into the floor as the curvature of his thumb and index finger rose to clutch his lowering chin, "perhaps it would have been more beneficial to us if Nightwing had attended today."

"How could he possibly help us?"

"The device was stolen in Gotham twelve hours ago," Interval hurriedly replied, "and Nightwing is particularly close to…" his voice trailed off as he noticed a strange look of puzzlement in his Lantern friend. "You don't know a lot about the hero community?"

"Really only that they exist, and before I got involved in all of this, they were to be avoided as best one could," Iota sharply responded with a sly punctuation of sarcasm to each syllable. "How are we supposed to find this thing?"

"The smart waves are very small while in transmission, the only way the league would be able to recognize the signal feed was if they were the recipient and even then they would have difficulty following it through to tracking down its source. They've already used some readings from other orbiting satellites and triangulated a general region would make sense given its origin; Gotham. We should be able to track it down if we could intercept the transmission as its being sent," Interval turned to Iota and nodded slightly, "we'll need to bring a satellite down into close proximity."

"Ah," Iota grunted with dissenting shrug, "I'm going to be flying over every square inch of Gotham aren't I?"

"By my calculations it should take no longer than five hours if we follow a consistent pattern," Interval confided in his monotone much to the annoyance of the now slumping young Lantern, "you should be happy that it's just Gotham that we're searching through."

"And how exactly are we to intercept this signal?"

The sudden sound of a tight sliding metal door at their backsides grasped their attention, both of them turning around almost in unison to take a long analytical look at their half-ton robotic teammate aptly named Steel enter the main room through the centre door. The majority of his armour was of a very dark glistening metal, building up the thick muscular looking limbs and broad spanning chest. Around his shoulder was a lighter toned armour top, shoulder pads that narrowed down into triangular points along the sides of his arms before curving inward of his chest in a smooth line that soon hit together at its centre thereby duplicating the angled point albeit a much larger one. Steel's head was not too radically different from the heads of the humanoids that dominated this planet, having thin rectangular slots to make up for eyes and a mouth; the absence of a recognizable nose was hard to ignore, making him appear rather flat in perspective despite the well formulated curves and bulking of his muscles. The most intriguing part of this armoured machine was the stylized 'S' that sat upon his chest just below the centre point of his shoulder armour, the emblem stashed within the modified triangle; the Superman logo as it had been superimposed upon his body as the most viewable part at the behest of his creator. Steel's head was straight up, looking to the boys with his own analysis, intent on dragging along his heavy toes with accompanying thuds against the glistening silver paneled floor.

Interval smirked a little, "I have an idea."

* * *

Todd mumbled and groaned as his hand began to slip in their ever tightening grip around the rope he was asked to slide down upon. A humbling look upwards revealed the edge of the cliff as being no more than seven feet atop of his head; he hadn't gone down very far and he was already beginning to feel a particular strain that gushed through his muscles and clamped around his neck. The cause for this weakening was not the product of the perceived difficulty in sliding vertically down a line of considerable strength but rather the result of the many factors outside of this so called obstacle he believed to be playing against him. For one, the rope being used was anything but traditional, it was a snowy white sock of sorts, a tube of silky fabric that one could easily fit their leg through but since no such thing existed in between, the clenching tight of his fingers forced it to become rather wide as it flattened in his palms. Furthering adding issues was the big blue square conforming satchel that fitted around his backside; this particular aspect was something of great mental anguish as much as it was the physical weight for within were the variety of electronic accruements he intended to share with his friend, most important of which being the computer screen that he slated to be the portal for the universal satellite connecter he had gotten his hands upon. A quick look down below revealed the absence of shore, simply the cold clean ocean water immersing itself into the clay fixation of the cliff side with an earnest sway and cuddle to its small white splashing waves. A few metres down from him along the line he held for dear life was his redheaded friend, Deyna, whom nimbly worked her hands along the silky material like a professional, throttling her sandal bound feet against the soft rock surface of the cliff side and pouncing off only to come back again within a second except that much lower to flashy waters.

"Wouldn't you rather just come here, be together in person?" Deyna came to a pause along her tug against the rope line, stomping her feet hard against the cliff face for support. The draw of the line flexed outward like an elastic before hitting its threshold quite a distant out from its bolted position, "talking to you through this 'communicator box' isn't exactly as intimate as I thought it could be," she groaned a little, planting her chin in the tight squeeze of her shoulder.

Todd produced personally approved nod in confidence of himself, strangling the difficult holding cord to make his next jump down, "it's not what I wanted Deyna, it really isn't," he slowed down, the distance between him and the crisp yet curvy cliff top being spaced out several feet further much to great excitement riveting in his heart as the thoughts of easily travelling surfaced, "but…but you know I can't be here," he stuttered.

"But you are our Queen's grandson," Deyna returned with a strong tone to her sentiments, "surely she can will your presence here to be acceptable." She clenched down hard on her teeth following into the next hurdle downwards.

"My mother was adopted into her family," Todd was quick to comment, "and she grew up here just as you have…me though," he stumbled off into a bit of silence as the thoughts recollected while mixing into his motor functions. His eyes came across to one of the hollowed crevices within the cliff side where a particular bar had been retained running horizontal to the crevice thereby keeping the rope behind its barrier, "I'm not from around here…and to be honest, I'm not exactly from this world and I'm not really sure what that means. I think Polly likes me," his head went off into a jittery nod, "but I haven't done very much to earn the right to be a part of her family…I'm just sort of 'someone' to her."

"Polly?" Deyna's face scrunched up with puzzlement.

"Oh," Todd let out a small chuckle, "that's what we call Queen Hippolyta when she's not being all…well, Queen like I suppose."

"If it's all the same Todd," Deyna drew back in preparation for one last swing, "I would prefer to have you here despite whatever punishment I would face by inviting you." Todd took another look down just in time to catch the full extended swing of Deyna's arms, her body well established within the cliff's face much to his astonishment; it would not be much longer till he had finished his descent.

Satisfied with his position, Todd caught his eye upon the ledge of cave's bottom floor, its rustic coloured sand filling in the entirety of its wide spacing; indeed, his head arched to look across both shoulders to catch the full extent of the near four metre wide missing gap in the cliff's face. The edge of his heels slid down over the top line while his toes arched in preparation for one finally leap outwards with the returning sway inward hopefully taking him within Deyna's private fort. And so, knowing full well of the potential hurtful fall if he failed, he took a deep breath and arched his toes inward to the heavy mass, pressuring a push that blew his body outward that he modulated with the slip of the line through his grasp just enough so that his body would easily fit in between the cave's frame, all the while his wide eyes becoming focussed upon the smiling curvature of Deyna's lips.

"You can let go now, I've got you," Deyna shyly stated as her hands came to wrap around Todd's sides, pulling him closely to her body to steady him. His landing had been most successful save for one minor setback: letting go of the line. The weight of his pack took played out in the most unfortunate of circumstances, forcing his body on a curvature that would have inevitably took him back out of the cavern. The sincere reach of her eyes collided strongly into the deep recesses of Todd's being, affirming that her tight grasp was unbreakable and with a sigh of relief, the line fell flatly from his hands the elastically bounce back into its proper orientation.

It was quite the deep cut within the cliff side, a spacious region akin to a monstrous sized living room space but more so modelled after a basement dwelling on account of its obvious stone construction though believably more so serene since the desirable red shades of clay mixed in with that creamy toned palette were most undoubtedly pleasant to the eye. The shape of the room was maintained to a rectangular shape, one broad side being the opening, save for the first two metres heading in which was notable for the wide stretch of diagonal wall which invariably lead into the more accurate corner laced shape. To Todd's left side, just barely touching the edge of the diagonal stretch of wall, was a raised quarter circle platform, two steps up from the primary floor. Despite its rounded edges, upon its surface was a rectangular soft blue quilted carpet that was tightly bound up in the corner. At about the centre of the room appeared to be a well cut frame suitable to fit a normal sized door within, the back wall behind being particular dark and rigid looking by comparison to the smooth clay faced walls that surrounded him at the moment. The right side possessed a similar looking carpet to the one atop the platform but certainly a lot thicker and more so spaced towards the centre of the room. A series of tubular pillows lined the wall, sitting just atop the carpet; it was a bed of sorts though assumingly used more for visits than overnight stays. Throughout the room were a multitude of gold rods of various heights, suspended vertically by the support of three curvy legs that propped out from the base; candles decked the tops, the black thread leading up from the tall mound of wax was now only awaiting the flaming touch.

"So this is your private place?" Todd placed forth his question with a nod that reassured the restoration of her balance.

Deyna dropped her arms, closed her eyes lightly and turned around abruptly, "my mother found this place before I was born and worked it in till it became a home within a home, a place for private reflection." Her hands clasped together at her waist, memories flooding out from her widening smile, "Lara and I used to spend so much time hiding in here when we were younger, she can fly now of course, but I still haven't seen much of her around lately."

"She's so busy with the whole save Metropolis thing," Todd begrudgingly replied shortly with signs of sarcasm breaking in.

"I miss my friend sometimes," Deyna continued, "it's not easy for me to admit to such a feeling, I really shouldn't complain with so much of my family all around me…but I suppose that is why I come here so often now."

Todd smirked a little, flipping around the bulky backpack to his front side, "perhaps movies, television, music and games will help you forget the dramas of everyday life and immerse your imagination in the dramas of fictional life."

* * *

"You don't think that maybe Interval's just using me?" Iota, lit up in the flowing emerald energy his Lantern ring provided, sifted through the air with relative ease as the thought of maintaining a solid flight plan had fallen victim to a more distressing matter. Streams of the illustrious energy fell out back of his wide spanning arms, tossing back particles into a wake that grated off the full extension of his straight laid legs before curving back into the air where they soon dissipated. "He knows all this stuff about me, and I suppose I've been the one enabling him…but still, I thought that maybe he was concerned that I would turn on them if the opportunity presented itself…I'm not exactly a good person and I'm the most powerful member, he has the right to be fearful," he batted up a single eyebrow, "but why am I scared of him? I'm supposed to be fearless…he really doesn't care about anything but himself, I can't help but feel that's he's using me for all his little games, who's to say he doesn't have some sort of ulterior motive regarding this satellite drainer thing," he shook his head free of the depressing thought structure, "I don't know, what do you think?" Iota glanced across to his left side seeing the impressive Steel flying just beside him, its boot boosters powering up to the highest degree of burning blue, pulsating outward into thin circular bands that repelled against the force of gravity granting its heavy frame the ability of flight. Regardless of the admiration that Iota no doubt wish to share for this feat, the mechanized being that was Steel ignored the prodding of the neighbouring Lantern, "what is going on…I'm talking to machine!" he pulled his hands forward from their wing like spacing to throw them down underneath his body in a sign of outrage. "Oh," he became befuddled with the conclusion of what should have been a self-evident epiphany. He pulled around the back of his ring hand to look at its glow before muttering to himself quietly, "guess that's kind of normal for me."

Gotham in this day and age was never really all that of an admirable city to look at from any angle. Even from the air where even the most violent of details was a fading image in the passage of flight, this dirty city made its mark known; the layers of grime that littered the city's homes and businesses was not something to be ignored but passably understood and remembered for springing questions as to why one would ever wanted to live here needed to be answered on a regular basis. The architectural achievements of the past, through the bronze Victorian area of which this city was enfranchised in this location, had long since been laid to rubble in the aftermath of induced explosions caused by the rampant villain populations. Gone were the metal globe topped spires that reached for the heavens, the sloping roofs with their hand laid tiles, the tall windows that made a giraffe's neck jealous, and largely removed were the bricks and mortar which had long served as the cornerstone foundation of this hot bed of uncivilized attitudes; however, this was not to say that all of its history had been forgotten. Lingering in the minds of dreamers, the influence of the past served to construct the grand city of the future over the ashes of its departed, pulling in the use of the modern era's steel and glass to construct sharp geometric features with only the most delicate of smooth curves along the sides. Along the sky line a multitude of these such building stood with slopping and round plate like tops, painted down in the deepness of black or the rarest of navy blues that quite rightfully fell in line with the ever holding night sky that shrouded the city in darkness. While these new architectural achievements brought Gotham into a new era, the baggage from a previous generation continued on with it much to the detriment of its inhabitants; Gotham was one soulless city that never changed completely.

Steel came to an abrupt stop, pressing forth his boots to his front sides so the soles came to fight back against the inertia of his movements, "I have located the signal."

"Ah good," Iota sighed in relief as he likewise stopped a short distance away, turning as was necessary to lurch into a slow floating manoeuvre that brought him within Steel's satellite converted orbit, "another hour of this fly by-ing and I would have refused to congratulate you for your efforts," he shyly stated with a heavy undertone of sarcasm, "good job." The two of them were hovering partially above overlapping layers of a cloud ridden weather pattern and a human exclusive pump of smog generated decades ago but never quite left. The collision of the gaseous forms was no more than a simple light touch but the after effects were quite impeccable, splattering the deepening hues of the clouds' grey and the luscious black smoke into small swirling hurricane. Through the clutter however, Gotham's coast line could be tangibly recognized though it was anything but pleasant. The thick seawall of about three metres in height was seemingly composed of a tar black surface which served to be quite the contrasting image to the near un-swimmable waters that slogged away at the smooth surface with its gelatinous sludge that wavered upon vomit inducing greens to verifiable browns only imaginable in a septic tank. The water outside the city's line of sight was no doubt clean, but the trash discarded into the inlets and rivers that tracked through the city's limits were inevitably sucked up into the currents of the ocean which casually returned these items into soft clumps of ooze that peppered the seawall.

The particular section that the two heroes hung above noted for a large robust ocean based docking bay which appeared as though it had not been used for some time. The docking bay had a wide spanning rectangular shaped white top roof, its broadsides running parallel to the sea thereby making the seawall appear from this height as though it were the frontal wall facing out towards the ocean, a fact quickly dismissed since the seawall would need to be three times its size just to reach the ceiling of the bay. Though the roof top was noticeably flat and smooth with its pearl white orientation, it was not difficult to notice the deep grey cuts within its surface about two feet in from the edge that trailed around the perimeter of the building thereby distinguishing the flatness of the roof from the surrounding quarter circle sides that flowed down into walls of a similar standing to the large roof tile. This hub was one of many, spaced apart from one another along the coast by sizable plots of concrete islands.

"Interval," Iota raised a hand to his ear, clicking upon the thumb dent within the circular ear bud that was firmly embedded within his canal; "Steel thinks that he's got something."

"I do have something," Steel's thunderous voice caught the young Lantern off guard.

"Steel says he has something," Iota spoke up hastily, snapping a narrowing glare at the Metal Man.

A quick half second of spike of static shot into Iota's ear, "I have your coordinates," Interval's voice slipped in with clarity, "I will be there in five seconds or less."

Iota let his body be taken up in the currents of wind, sifting down through the speckled cloud dust to get an unhindered perceptive view of the shore line as it splashed its heavy load of sludge against the high sea wall, an image quickly forgotten as he turned away to look at the extent of the ocean's water. His hands slid out from his body in flat palms facing the down, slowing his decent and balancing his body out appropriately to keep upright. Upon reaching a height comparable to the roof of the nearby docking bay he caught onto a stream of flashing water disruption, a spreading of the thick ocean cream into knee high waves of white that radically descended into smaller trails in the wake of the scarlet red clad speedster running in between; the waves source and cause moving at a speed that the normal human's eye could not hope to compete with.

The question of whether the speedster would slosh his boots through the sludge at the end of the line would go unanswered for within five metres of collision, the tips of his boots inverted into the ocean's surface allowing for him to build upon the momentum of his speed to lean into a jump that throttled him above the seawall. Iota shifted around his body to keep up with the fast paced movements, following the fall of the wake, leading into the blurring jump before inevitably crossing to the top half of the docking bay's front wall coming to an immediate stop when reaching the roof's flat top. The speedster turned around slowly to face out to the ocean, pulling his head upward to take a gander at the approaching heroes as they lowered themselves down his level.

"I have intercepted the signal at this location," Steel was quick to note as a physical connection between himself and Interval was made. The reverberating blue circles from his boot boosters began to fluctuate into much larger orientation, fanning out in its thin line a suitable distance from his boot as he lowered to the roof top just in front of Interval before coming to an abrupt stop with a low thunderous ding sound that could only be made from heavy metal slamming down against a stationary object of a similar composition. Iota was soon to join them on the ground, forming a loosely connected triangle near the ledge of the roof.

"Have you been able to distinguish the purpose of the signal being sent?" Interval went hastily into his questioning mode of character.

"It would appear that the signal is too encrypted and spaced for me to interpret," Steel responded with a strengthening to his hollow mechanical voice.

"Yes," Interval nodded slightly, "the League did not provide me with enough data to construct the device on my own, so I was forced to interpret some of the codes on my own when I was reprogramming your system as a satellite interceptor…I had only an hour's time to learn of the complexities of the blue prints this morning."

"This morning?" Iota mumbled lowly to himself.

"Let's get inside," Interval stepped up into a strong commanding voice as he turned his back to the formation, stepping just inside of the thin crevice on a course to reach the building's corner nearest to them. Iota let out a final grunt of a steam through his nose and picked up the pace to follow, Steel soon slogging it along with his pounding boots sending spare shockwaves in the immediate area around him. Indented even further in towards the roof's centre from the curving ledge was another set of deep cut lines though forming a much smaller square shape relative to the wide spanning roof top; the outline supported a single panel with the same pearly white stone composition of the roof's whole and was remarkably tight in its grasp together preventing any such noticeable marks that would result from shadow disparity as was the case roof's edge lines. "Steel?" Interval stepped back towards the ledge, angling his elbow to allow the brunt of his forearm to cross along his stomach, open palm aimed towards the cut tile board. Without a word, the gentle giant of metal fell down to a single knee just outside the tile's line, slipping his hand upwards along its surface till had reached just above halfway from where he knelt; a slight raise of his finger and the oncoming smash brought about the twisting sounds of metal, his fingertips digging in through the white pain to reach down to its steely grey core. One rip up and the interior of the lid snapped free of its containing sides. Steel was quick on his feet, throwing out his other hand to grasp one side of the three inch deep metal plate, swerving on the pivot his knee to take the large square plate towards the centre of the roof where he harmlessly discarded it with a light touch that nonetheless brought about the crushing of metal. Iota found himself intrigued by the removed plate, the bending of its white top coat around where Steel's hand had planted itself, pulling up the interior strip of inch wide pipes underneath which likewise met the same bending fate. The hole it covered quite fortunately was wide and cumbersome enough to fit Steel's full body, granted, he had to be the sole body heading down through it.

"Do you hear that?" Interval arched his head to look to both Iota and Steel in rapid succession of head swaying.

"It sounds like music," Iota stumbled into his response, "dance music." He huddled over top of the gaping hole, clasping hands to knee caps as he crouched lowly. As his head came to face the hole, he turned chin upwards slightly, putting for the leading of his ear to make out the emanating sounds; it was fluent in its beats, automated along the spine of bass drum but never once falling victim to its timeless drone, lacing through it a fluid complexity of lighter tones that bickered back and forth in pitch and strength. It wasn't long till he was locked in to the trance is offered, heart taking up the race to keep up with its tune. He stood there for a long moment, taking in the sounds with a gracing shake of his head before a sudden snap to straightness was soon greeted with his conclusion, "I don't know the song."

"Sounds of the Fallen by Voodoo Connection, remixed," Steel's clapping voice brought about an eye brow raising awareness within each of the young heroes whom could not help but look at him oddly, "I have detailed histories of the group and its members as well as their discography in its entirety if any such information can be of use to the investigation."

"You've put the mp3 to shame," Iota commented through a brief chuckle.

"Shall I play the artists' intended version of the track?" Steel looked to Interval with his hollow eyes, posing the question with hefty amount of sincerity that blossomed through the often the cold crassness that normally made up its vocal abilities.

"That won't be necessary," Interval waved up his hand, brushing aside the notion. Backside keeping its self-faced to the ocean, he stepped up to the ledge of the hole to join Iota, coming to a stop only when his feet were about half way over, teetering towards the a fall into the depths this hole presented. Aside from the heavy sounds of bass beat music, the hole was notable for its eclipsing darkness save for that of a dancing glow of fire, a strain of mixing yellows and oranges that bounced upon the cusp of short washed up wave lines and patterns, "there's water down there."

"I could send a light down there…?" Iota raised up his fist, sparking up its surface with shards of the emerald tinted energy.

"No," Interval waved his hand once more, "I think that's a platform just below."

"Still, maybe I should…" but before Iota could reach to his conclusion, the scarlet clad speedster had let the unbalanced weight of his toes take the dominant position in his stature, letting his body lean over as much as it possibly could without conflict to the opposing ledge inevitably leading to his untimely plunge into the barely visible cavernous world below.

Interval bent his legs inward at the knee joints prepared for a spring like recoiling when his soles had firmly met the floor plate following the short descent. Several feet down from the hole, he had landed upon a sturdy platform as he had predicted there to be prior to his sudden slip that lent well into the vertically straight fall. Satisfied, he rose up straight and looked up in wonder for the heads of his colleagues, catching their glistening heads peering over the ledge lines of the hole. The ceiling was a sheen of tempered blue, much in contrast to the ivory white the decked its flipside; needless to say, the square shaped hole stuck out extraordinarily well from the plate it was cut from despite the swirling clouds of smog above. An affirming nod in his teammate's direction and the two were apt to follow him in the leap down. "Keep your voice to a minimum," Interval commanded through a hushed tone. Iota, filled to with the immaculate green, and Steel, throwing out the pulsating circles of blue beneath his boots, lowered down to greet him on the flat plate.

The plate that they had come to rest upon was square in its orientation, two metres to each side with a rail about a foot high which smoothed upwards from its clay like texture, stained the deep sea blue as all other things were within this docking bay. With a simple look, they found the back sides of the plateau to be wedged up tightly to the cornering walls while additionally determining it to be a top plate of a rather narrow looking pillar on account of a similar construction being across from them in the neighbouring corner that like this one, was along the broadside that faced out towards the sea. The top of the pillar held a loose square formation at its top connection to the poorly gated plateau before fanning out, curving outwards on a smooth slope that no doubt led to the bottom of the docking bay with a wide encompassing end; however, the image of such a strong supporting base was quickly lost in the waves of black water that made up about one fourth of the bay in a rectangular laid track. No doubt, the sea wall was not as formidable as it appeared outside but for the most part it held strong against the crashing waves and the assorted junk it carried leading to an assumption based up this docking bays potential history. When it was in full operation, the interior was necessarily flooded so as to draw in small craft; therefore, there must be a complex piping system that ran beneath the ground floor, letting the wandering waters of the ocean inside beyond the constraints that the seawall imposed.

What had gathered the most attention from the three heroes was beyond the water lane; it was that of the true hub that laid beneath the cumbersome ceiling and wide spacing walls, that of a full sized house and fort that had come to dock within. The ground that made up the rest of the docking bay's floor was a rustic brown stone that looked well-worn having been mutilated by its users time and time again with its small bits being re-cobbled together in small piles littering the more larger indentations made; regardless its significant height over above the waters prevented surprise flooding, more so ensure through the adoption of black rubber bouncer that cupped the corners with their half circle edges before fanning out down the side into the watery abyss. To their side, into the corner of the broadside furthest away from the ocean, was the primary building within, a tall nearly three story building that ran itself well with the water in its less than attractive heavy navy blue; the additional of bright green and red neon paint that displayed assorted words of a criminal taste and escalated upwards to pictures of a grotesque kind did little to make the place feel welcome. Like the plateau they stood along, this building was wedged up tightly to the corners and as such saw the end of the brown stone flooring that just barely ebbed out from the front wall with a small sidewalk. The building itself was quite smooth faced, not a single window to mention of no discriminatory marks as the ground had suffered. Despite its far reaching height, it failed to reach the top ceiling by several feet making it just on par with the plateau they were standing upon. It came just over the halfway line of the building thereby restricting only a small portion of land in the farthest most corner whose only abstraction from freedom was a garage like building, two narrow walls and ceiling, that lack a door giving full sight to the gallons of square silver lined barrels sitting within. This plot of land was where the action was happening, where the source of the fiery yellow tinted orange light was cascading along the waters. A circle shaped formation of low lying bricks kept within its perimeter a pressure of flame that bordered on bon fire, an assortment of tossed classic paper bound books, wood and most striking of all, metal built gasoline canisters all added fuel to its rage. As dangerous as it was, the potential for explosion did not sway the party goers to find safety, instead upping the stakes by drawing closer and tossing in whatever spare things they could find; there was excitement within the flames and they appeared more than willing to stand there and stare till their eyes had fully melted within their sockets.

There were dozens of people clowning around the fire pit that preciously sat upon the edge of their man-made land, the second most volatile feature of them aside from the relative ignorance to danger being that of their garments and clothes that ranged somewhere in between bizarre and fathomable unsuitable for public wear. Most of the young men in this group were wearing the strangest of colours in their costumes, purples, pinks and the like which was most certainly unflattering to the eye but nonetheless quite matching to the paint jobs that had dolled up their faces; powder white face paint with either cream white filling in the space around their mouth just underneath their noses or a luscious red hue that decked out the rims of their lips. Hats were also of a personal invested interest, ranging from the ludicrously small to the overtly large top hats with mismatching coloured bows or neon lights that spelt words or shared images of a vulgar nature. The young women in the mixture were not much different from their counterparts, swaying in line to the beats of the music with their floppy harlequin outfits and ruby red lips; they were the ones who danced much to closely to the fire, letting the hazard that would be to inflict upon them first.

"Who are these people," Interval walked over to the ledge, fingers flexing out along the side of his thighs as his head roamed through the climate of bodies, seeing through the happiness in their bright smiles to see the sweat stains and the villainy within every one of them.

Iota soon followed suit, stepping up onto the solid rail before letting out a heavy breath that revealed his open disgust, "Jokerz."

* * *

"Oh this!" Deyna rip roared into a jeer of excitement, her extended index finger wavering in front of the brightly lit portable television screen, "this is…this is…I don't have the words," her intake of breath became so highly pitched to her chest that she soon found herself rendered speechless as the teasing of adventure within such a tiny contraption beamed into her ever growing eyes.

Todd and Deyna had come to sit down on the bed like placement along the right side wall of the room, letting their bodies cushion down in the thickness of the silky sheets to the point of comfort though it quickly became apparent that Deyna had a habit of bolting up from her cross legged position to the tips of her knees or standing up as the excitement enticed her to do so. The intermitting time between such wild postures and the calm seated posture became shorter and shorter as the images that had wandered along the screen proved to be more than she could handle. Todd had set up at the end of their cumbersome cushion a flat screen about two feet in length and one and half in height; it had been propped up a good distance by way of a wide spanning black box that acted as a base placing its top line to be about level with their seated chest line. As was most crucial to this whole operation was the universal connector which tailed off from the bottom backside of the screen, its broadsides hanging up vertically in line with the base. Its other end had been tightly bound to a single black wire about as thick as a thumb, trailing some distance away to a log shaped red box, slamming in through its rubber like surface; the battery that powered the operation.

"What is this?" Deyna calmed down a little, turning her attention briefly to Todd for an explanation.

"This is just some old retro channel," Todd begrudgingly replied with a low tone that out rightly contrasted the enthusiasm that gushed out from Deyna's lips, "old music videos and stuff from like decades back."

"Music?" Deyna hopped back on to her knees, hands planting down on the very ledge of the cushioning to bring her head in close to the screen, "the beautiful boy here," she raised her right hand up towards the screen, as though she believed the little figure of a man inside could be grasped with her touch, "he speaks so fast, so fluently…how do you understand what he is saying?" She once more looked back to Todd.

"It's not always about the words," Todd clutched a hand to his cheek and let his eyes hover around in contemplation mode, "music has a way of catching on because of its steady beat, the use of instrumental sounds that transcend the lyrical attachments."

"I've never felt this way over music before, never for the Greek opera," Deyna reattached her eyes to focus upon the screen, "I just want to get up and…dance. I wish I could be there...oh…" the enthusiasm nosedived into a slump back into her seated position; "those girls that are surrounding him…why are they acting so vulgar?" her voice became dry, leaning on a lowly whisper.

"Yeah, well," Todd rocked his neck around to loosen up for comfort, "you know how your mom is kind of keeping you sheltered here?" Deyna blinked her eyes rapidly but was unsure as to whether she should nod compliance or continue onward in her look of puzzlement, "there is a reason for all that," he gulped, "all of this stuff happened during a time when influential men shaped the world to their desires or something. I really don't understand of it."

"I don't like it," Deyna sternly stated in defiance, the smile over turning to a scowl. Secure in her cross legged position, she fumbled her hands over her knees to form tight grasps around them.

"Well, there's plenty of other channels," Todd picked up the remote controller at his side, the sleek black wand with the embedded grey circular plate within which he immediately set his thumb upon to swivel it around as he aimed it at the screen, "there's got to be something you'd like on this."

"Whoa," Deyna shouted in a stunned reaction to the screen, legs bending up at the knees as she used her hands like crab legs to throttle her body back towards the wall with its cushioning tubular pillows, "why is it coming out at me?" she threw up her hand with a jittery index finger point.

Todd began to chuckle loudly as he turned to see the frightened face of Deyna, "it's just image conversion into the third dimension, all programs and television sets after like twenty-twenty-two were standard with it…it hurts the eyes a little bit but it's all cool right?"

"Yes," Deyna returned to her smiling taste, crawling back to the front to sit beside Todd, "and that boy, she looks like she's being well treated by him…" she stumbled off with a nod.

"Oh," Todd moaned, "this is just some boring drama, come on…you got to see the action network!"

"No please," Deyna cautioned the boy, "I want to see how this plays out…."

* * *

The room was small for its entertainment purposes, the longer side walls being no more than seven metres in length and the walls separating them in between being about two fifths that. At what could be defined as the back of the room was a wide couch lined broadside to broadside, its backside against the smaller wall with one side of its rounded armrests wedged up tightly against the wall so as to accommodate about a foot of space between its other side and the well varnished steel door along the adjacent broadside wall. It was a well cushioned couch though the aquatic coloured dress it wore overtop had been well worn into, fading away in myriad of regions, more specifically along the lower sections of the backrest and where the fabric was stretched tightest in its top corners, thereby revealing the rather decayed yellow that made up its frame underneath. It was an old couch but one that had brought life to the tacky watery blue that fleshed out through the walls and floor; the minor touching of white within the ceiling tiles brought some hope of life to the room but the lighting system's meagre reach in fanning out from the square inch sized sockets polluting the tiles distilled such chances. The room satisfied the poor treatment that the Joker gangs gave to everything in their possession; however, it was missing the healthy dose of neon paint that clobbered the outside.

Sitting closest to the door side, though more so sitting on the edge of the cushion leading into the centre one was a spastic looking figure that had opted out from the long coats of his colleagues and took to wearing a simple white under shirt that was remarkably thick in its rubbery form. His face was narrow but nonetheless plump with angular cheek bones that soaked out from the skin quite well. Being nearly bald helped in his transfiguration into the Jokerz' costume, the entirety of his head being soaked within the body white paint that made him ghost like with the notable abstractions to such a visual feature being the black outlines, circles, around his giddy wide open eyes and a more oval shape one that measured into the contours of his large smile. Flashy purple pants and matching boots with green straps filled out the rest of his costume, he was one among the many but that didn't make him feel any less unique.

Leaning up against the other side of the couch, arm casually lying up against the armrest with its side gracing the coldness of the wall, was a tall looking girl with an assemble of clothing that was considerably more so easier to look at than the people she had chosen to hang around with. Her shirt was a marvel of black and scarlet red, a diagonally line straddling down from her right shoulder to the opposing side separating the colours. The black side, closest towards the centre of the couch lead on into a long sleeve that went beyond her small wrists and up to her palm while the red side was cut off radically short to expose the bulb of her shoulder. Underneath the wide flap of her shirts were pants of a similar design, the mixing of red down one side and black the other though in an opposite format to that of the shirt design. Face all painted up in a vibrant yet conforming white with only a single pencil thin red strand scrawled along the top of her forehead before breaking out into a wobbly bit that sat overtop of her eyebrows before curving back sharply into that single thread that headed down her nose, matching its curvature to join the tasteful ruby colour of her lips. Her hair was luscious in its curls, crawling over top of her shoulders to meet again along the breadth of her chest.

The third man in this line up had taken to a position nearest to the door, shoulders nearly tapping upon its surface. He was a tall sly looking man, recognizable for his straight wide spanning shoulders that supported gangly limbs. The entirety of his face had been plastered down with the powder white paint with an interior job of cream coloured pastel around his lips in a sizable chunk of face space that just barely reached the tip of his nose. A long nose and angular eyes rounded out his facial features which would no doubt have sufficed in making him appearing hateful at all times had it not been for his sloppy smile, teeth being less than white and excessively filled in with globules of saliva. His long waist coat was a of rather bright purple hue, clasped together along his chest with three very large similarly coloured buttons along the centre line of his body, the top being a few inches short of his throat while the bottom was directly at his waist line leading the excess fabric of the coat to hang around his sides flapping around with the swaying of his hips in stride.

The three of them had their visions clued in onto the opposing small wall which possessed quite the television screen, a wall crunching large one that left less than an inch between its sides and the wall. They had been hoping for some time to get a clear view of the television's black motionless screen but there was something in the way, standing there for what felt like an eternity; the fourth person in the room. He was an even more so ganglier than the person nearest to the door and did less to cover up the fact, sporting a tight fitting long-sleeved yellow shirt that showcased the lack of muscle on his bones. As far as eccentricities go, he was not one liable to wear face paint on his sullen cheeks and tear drop shaped eyes; however, his splashy tendrils of hair looked like salad upon his head in its bright neon green hue. Up over top of his shoulder were thumb thick red suspenders that cradled down around his waist in gold clamps bound into the ruffling belt line of his puffy white pants. His thin spindly hands were currently working away at a device on top of the television, a flat board piece about a foot in length which possessed along its otherwise green tinted surface a wide assortment of coloured wires and metallic gold contours, lines that darted in sharp directions throughout and around tiny sparkling bulbs. He possessed in one of his hands a thick red handle that protected him from the long tubular metal extension which appeared exceptionally blue at the very pointed tip; it was a soldering knife that he used to cut through the wires and attach them to the proper computer chips and boards. Generally, the board experiencing the careful wrath of his hands appeared to have been ripped out from a disc player, whether that being a game station or a movie player was ambiguous on account of the missing disc track or appropriate connection drives.

"Come on Milx, you said this would be done already!" The standing purple jacket wearing Jokerz member slapped his arms against his chest in a disgruntled manner, tossing out his voice in a stern tone that echoed his distasteful sentiment. The smile had dropped leaving his slanted eyes to take over in their lukewarm scowling feature.

"Calm down Rito," the young man who was hunched over top of the television top replied with a weakly voice punctuated by a jittering tongue, "I've had to rip apart like six different satellite dish receptors just to get this one working." The work he had been fully immersed in was indeed gruelling and continual stress inflicted upon him from the hooligans behind him was enough to keep his body rattling much to the detriment of his hand holding the soldering knife, but he was nonetheless heavily interested in this particular project, currently working upon a centimetre thick line that road the full broad breadth of the plate darting through the cumbersome amount of wires and surrounding computer chips with strange grey mountain like ranges.

"Free movies," the bald headed straddling centre seated person clasped his bare arms together, rapidly drawing the flat of his palms away from each other before slapping inward with a clap, legs lifting in a simultaneous movement with the rocking forward of his body; he was sincerely excited over the pet project the man named Milx was working on.

"You'll be getting more than just free movies," Milx humbly replied, eyes never wavering away from the grey ridges, "communications, music…you'll never have to steal our fun again." The boy appeared to be having a great deal of difficulty in his muscle movements, every distraction, the words spoken behind his back, caused a sudden jolt forward that reverberated down through his legs and rattled his toes all while maintaining the solid stature of his hands.

"It better work then," Rito continued to grunt from his corner.

"Do you guys hear that?" a soft pitched voice lurched out from the lips of the lone girl in the room. She leaned forward with a slight turn of her head towards her comrades. The reception she received however was quite mixed but not entirely discounted, both boys let their ears roam free into the sounds that filled the background, bolting down their lips to avoid even the most inconsiderate of vocal slips.

Through the humming bass beat of the outdoor music, a series of thud like sounds could be heard, not the kind that arose from the crashing and colliding of an object against others but rather the kind that arose from the rattling of fists and feet against exposed flesh that wilted down to the snapping of bone. The thick body crushing sounds quickly rose to become the dominant background noise; Jokerz never fought in this strange kind of silence, jeers of comic relief and scowls attune to nonconformist behaviour were the norm but these such factual elements were flat, it was not something that could be ignored. The group of Jokerz within the room were fully immersed in hopeful thoughts of peace, lending off the logical portions of their brains to find evidence that supported such an unlikely conclusion. "Rito!" a crisp clean shout broke their lingering moment of contemplation. All heads save for Milx's turned abruptly to take a wide eyed look at the figure entering through the door space, the solid pane of varnished steel formerly enfranchised within the frame having quickly throttled across into its wall socket. He was a tall muscular man, very much unlike the others in the room in regards to his physical immensity but still retained the hideous quirks such as the odd purple tint of his vest, green neon sash around his waist holding up a bizarre banana coloured pair of pants. He was nearly bald, with few remnant stubs of black hair, and lacked the proper paint job blotted out the bareness face, taking on thick black circle outlines of his large dark eyes which stood to be the lone distinguishing feature to his facial feature. "Superheroes!" he shouted with a fear that resulted in the sudden disconnected drop of his lower square jaw as though it did not belong to him, he stared long and hard into the eyes of the man nearest to him, frightened as he could ever be.

The room's couch adoring occupants let out a heavy seated gasp as a sudden emerald tinted fist the size of a basketball extended from a long tubular pole behind the coverage of the wall, driving the force of itself beyond the gap of the doorway and smothering up tightly against the scared man's cheek. Following the spacious splatter of spit that leaped from his crushed lips, he awkwardly lowered his head and toppled to the floor like a lead weight creating the last thud in the long series of others previous to it. The green fist's extension zigzagged in its magical tone before quickly dissipating into the air with a blink of an eye leaving the group to look upon the fallen banana coloured legs of one of their comrades, puzzling over who could have just taken them on their home turf with such ease.

A furious whip of twirling wind brushed by their cheeks, drying their eyes of its moisture shield in a near instant as it became evident that the scarlet and black clad speedster Interval had entered the room, coming to stop in its centre with eyes strung down upon them with hands furled up against his waist. They were indeed a great deal frightened by this sudden gust ridden appearance but could not hope to bring themselves to look upon him for the dry tears around their eye lids forced an incessant blinking contest with each other each flash of darkness seeming longer and longer as the moisture returned. A few disconnected shakes of their heads to regain focus brought forth only the threat of a headache, a tingling pain that grasped over top of their cranium with their spider leg like reach.

Milx took in a deep gulp followed by a short sigh of relief when the needle point of his soldering knife nearly slipped away into an unwanted territory. His elbows came to rest gently on the television soft black top, progressing further his head over top of the gizmo in its late stages of construction; he was completely oblivious to the evolving events around him but that was for certain, an aspect that could not last.

"Steel?" Interval called out. He hurriedly turned his body a half circle, vision wandering away from the couch and its occupants to the door before stopping upon reaching his desired destination: the backside of the diligent worker a short distance away. In the span of two seconds, the speedster had paced efficiently to the side of Milx, slipped his fingers onto the top bulb of the knife's red handle and steadily slipped it up from the young man's hand at a steady angle so as not to allow the ferociously hot blue tipped knife to collide against skin. With the knife securely in his hand, he tossed out a quick jab of his elbow into the Milx's gut, swiftly following up with a powering side kick that pushed him over his own feet, toppling down into a crushing blow of his head up against the wall. Interval's eyes quickly sifted through the arrangement of wires and multiple gold line connectors throughout the green board before turning towards the fallen Jokerz member, "How did you construct this?" Interval pressed forth with a question that broke his usual calm state, "there are at least seven parts here that belong to several different manufactured electronics," he stepped back into his monotone, "now how did you build this?"

"Keep your mouth shut Milx, don't even think about talking to him," Rito rose up with a commanding foot slamming down, toes aimed towards Interval. Despite this assertion forward, His head was still nervously twitching through the now distancing pain, "he can't hold nothing on us," his voice lowered into a grovel upon the tipping syllables of his final words for a tight crunching crystallized green collar had forged around his throat, cuddling closely to the dip of neck into the shoulder blade and extending upwards to his jaw forcing an undignified raise of his chin upon being throttled against the side wall, heels dragging in deeply along the floor across the front of the couch.

"This is the part where you shut up," the seated Jokerz with their stunned glares let themselves wander along the tight green cord that trailed away from Rito's new flashy collar, all the way towards the sparkling ring of the entering Green Lantern. Iota was shortly joined by the hulking mass of metal that was Steel, cramming his large body through the door on a slight angle that only saw a minor dip of its head to get under the top rail of the door frame.

"Steel," Interval's head cocked over his shoulder to look back at his teammates, stepping aside towards the fallen Milx, his right arm wavering out ahead of his body with an open palm directed towards the television screen as a gesture of offering, "is this what is giving off the signal?"

Steel straightened out his body but was somewhat compelled to keep is legs fairly spaced from one another to keep its impressive stature maintain a height well under the level of the ceiling; as such, each step forward appeared to look quite difficult from the perspective of the natural humans but was indeed however done so with the mechanical efficiency its body attune to. He came to a stop in front of the screen, nodding towards the young speedster before looking below at the mechanical contraption that barely rose to his chest level. His left hand slowly raised up from his side, slowly inching its way over top of the contraption where once his palm reached a small distance up above the grey ridges, held it there for about ten seconds with eyes brightening up from their cold dark metal core to become a laser trimming red for the duration of that time. "This is the source," he looked back to Interval.

"How did you construct this?" Interval turned around abruptly to confront the slumping Milx. He let his knees crunch up; lowering his upper body with a stern look in his eye, "tell me," his elbows came to rest on the bulbs of his kneecaps.

"I won't do anything again," Milx gulped, tossing his hands up, palms facing towards the hero with fingers spaced out while curving his right shoulder inward to the wall, feigning the intimidating melt down the hero was bringing upon him, "I swear."

"Answer the question," Interval reasserted himself, impatience boiling over his scowl.

"I went to school!" Milx shouted with a sudden slap of his hands against his flat lying legs, "Gotham Tech!" Interval raised his right hand to cup his chin, slowly standing up while never flinching away from the child minded gang member as he revealed himself in a whimpering manner, "I studied, I learnt…I built it from some scraps we stole!"

"You associate yourself with these poor excuses for human beings?" Interval shouted out whilst flexing out an arm towards the seated couch crunchers, all of whom transfixed upon the gentle glow of Iota standing just to their side.

"I just couldn't cut it," Milx leapt into a heavy pace of tight squeezing breaths, "I needed some release." He swayed his head from side to side repeatedly, "I won't build it again, I promise," he accentuated his bargain with the eyes of a pleading man.

"This," Interval pressed his hand down upon the device's board, dragging it along the surface top so as to allow for his fingers to rest upon its top while his thumb cradled underneath, "is quite ingenious for a wash-up," the calmness and collectiveness in his monotone returned, "you shouldn't sell yourself short…there's always time to go back and try again." He lowered the plate with all its cords in his hand facing the centre of the room, looking across to Iota before leaning into a gentle toss that lead the device to be carried away on a small arch to his Lantern teammate. Iota instinctively rose his hand to counter but did not make contact in a physical sense, instead producing a green bubble shaped container as was necessary to its size and then swiftly shrinking that, bending through the wires to reach to the plate's core components of thin sliced processors and heavy metals which inevitably gave into the pressure and snapped into rubble as the basketball sized bubble became no bigger than a baseball. "I do mean it," Interval continued, onward looking into the deep of Milx's eyes, "it was quite extraordinary what you've managed to accomplish with these scrap materials," he nodded once, "I will hold you to that promise…."

* * *

Todd had long since fallen asleep, his body sprawling out over top of the soft blue bedspread resulting in multiple scrunches in its fabric but still retaining that all too important softness that made this particular nod off a deep one. His legs laid down back towards pillows cuddling the wall while his elbows were arched out to the sides upon the ledge of the bed layout, perfectly formatted to fit his chin overtop of the overlapping connection of his hands, the entirety of his head coming to lay its left side down flat so that his face aimed outwards and away of his friend whom sat upright with her bug eyes aimed intently upon the screen's glowing visage, contemplating some peculiar thoughts that had never once dawned upon her.

The central character in this story displayed within the screen was a strong willed girl, a respectable individual with a respectable career though there were a great deal of missed opportunities and hurdles that her life was going through. The primary focus appeared to be upon the strain that existed between her longing for a personal life of her own making and that of her business life in which she maintained a warrior's stature in the office room. The existing issues were quiet heavily played with the foreboding mother whom regularly appeared within her life and while she was rather supportive of her strong work ethic, she was more or less heavily critical of her personal life. To make matters worse, the boy she believed that she loved could not be with her because of family commitments…it just rose so many questions within Deyna's fragile mind, how was this girl supposed to overcome these trials which seemed too trivial in reality but upon this screen appeared all too dangerous to take on alone.

"Deyna?" A loud anger ripping voice shook the young girl free of her trance, leading her into a heavy gasp which bottled up so tightly in lungs that exhalation seemed impossible. "What is going on here?" the voice commanded with heavy footsteps tumbling the floor's earthly gravel mix into further oblivion.

"Mother," Deyna's whimpering voice retreated from her lips, head turning quickly to the cave's monstrous opening.

"Artemis…?" Todd's weakling tone arose from his coarse throat, the tired boy used all the strength that he could muster in his arms to prop his body up back on to his knees with a few shakes of his head to reassess what he had just questioned or rather whom had just entered the cave during his slumber. His breaths grew heavy yet shallow as he came across an unavoidable shadow cascade to the back of the cave, he knew full well whom the person whom this person was and it was the result of this knowledge that caused his tongue to go numb and sweat to drip down the sides of his head. His body began to shake awkwardly as he turned the full of his body to face Artemis, Deyna's mother, the military trainer and general of the Amazonian army.

Artemis was quite the imposing figure; a tall amazon with a will-toned physique that played well into her prowess as an acclaimed fighter throughout the world. Like her daughter, her hair was a lighter red that boldly leapt for a bronze blonde tone as an effect of the powering rays of light. Further imparted unto her daughter as a part of her were the emerald gems that made up her dashing eyes, the complexity of which at this moment was particularly open with a sharpened glare. The majority of her body was covered in a near body tight crimson red single piece suit, one that crawled its way down the entirety of her legs cutting off at her ankles but rather short in her arms, the straps above her shoulders being no more than one and a half centimetres across. Her feet were sandal bound, thick slashes of leather crossing along the top and up her shins along with the bulk of her forearms, a thicker leather patch being more strongly embedded in the bottom of her palm, cradling above and around her thumb. She was a woman of action, just as all other whom populated this island were, but just like them she was also a warrior of peace, a notion that was instantly lost the moment she laid eyes upon Todd in the presence of her daughter.

"I asked you a question," Artemis came to a resounding stop at Deyna's side, the smaller Amazon girl gasping for air as she took a look up to her mother's towering figure, the look in her eyes being that of dread over the companionship of Todd, "what is going on here?" she reasserted herself, hands clasping her waistline to bulk out her physique as intimidating.

"It was nothing mother," Deyna swivelled her body around to face Artemis, but kept lowly on the frontal balance of her knees, "Todd came to visit; he was only showing me…."

"Filth," Artemis shattered her daughter into silence. "And you," at a lightning speed, she crashed down upon Todd with her right hand, dragging him around Deyna to pin him against the wall, knocking him back first against the smooth clay stone of the cave that chocked him into being fully alert, the synapses of sleep now more than ever just a fleeting memory, "you would dare come here knowing full well of the Queen's express banishment of your kind."

"I invited him, Mother," Deyna pleaded.

"Quiet Deyna, I shall deal with you in a moment," Artemis hushed the young girl with no more than a snarl, "Todd you have come here and polluted my daughter's mind with your fantasies, it's not something I will tolerate under any circumstances," she drew her head closely to the feigning super hero, her breath lingering upon his face producing a chill when it came to conflict with the trailing bands of sweat. "But you are the Queen's adopted grandson," she suddenly cradled the fabric of his Nightwing costume into her palms, drawing him away from the wall before letting her knees bend down to lift up his small body and chuck him like a shot-put ball to the other side of the cave. With a heavy thud, Todd had made the ground his own, sliding along its gruff surface taking away with him the uncountable specks of dirt and rock, coming only to a stop when his backside smashing up against the first step of the quarter circle platform. "Pack up your things, Todd," Artemis calmed to a more delicate tone though still out rightly commanding, "if I ever find you here again, you can be certain you won't be leaving here alive regardless of your parentage."

* * *

"You went a little nice on that guy," Iota stated with a lack of certainty in his voice, "sort of, I think." The young Lantern immediately pulled out for his designated seat, swivelling around its white exterior to nestle inside the soft black texture of its cushioning. Interval, no doubt the first to arrive back at the cave, was already brooding in chair directly beside his teammate, paddling his fingers together with elbows sharpened against the wooden circular top of the team's table regardless of what the gold lettering enfranchised upon its surface said. Both of their chairs were somewhat seated on the corner closest to the massive wall dominating screen, a short distance between Interval's chair and the tubular fixed chair that sat just ahead of the main consoles that controlled the colossal computer emplacement, not that the space in between mattered to someone who could move as fast as he could. "Do you really think he's not just going to try again?" Iota questioned as he became comfortable in his seat.

"Someday he might," Interval commented, "I've already thought that I might do the same but at the moment his knowledge is as faulty as mine…he could send out the signal in a similar manner to the smart waves but he could not reconnect them at the source; his project was always doomed to fail." He nodded reassuringly to himself, "if he knows what's best for him he'll refine his desire to receive the necessary education so that he could indeed one day reconnected the transmitted signals."

"And just return to the Jokerz with that kind of technology?" Iota spat out with distaste.

"I am not here to judge what one does with their knowledge," Interval's fingers came to rest flatly against one another before he started up in their slow lowering to the table top, "nor should I be the one dispensing misinformed wisdom to persons my own age…what he does is his own business and if he's smart, he'll have found a way to prevent our tracking systems from locating him before he attempts to turn it on."

"I hate Jokerz," Iota slyly commented, lightly slamming down an enclosed fist against the table.

"I do not understand why human so young would develop such a reverence to one of humanity's worst examples," Steel steps came to solidify at the edge of the table, standing in between two chairs and looking down the way at the two young heroes, "Iota, is this perhaps why you hate them so? Because of the man they worship so blindly?"

"I know I look young," Iota raised up a finger to point in steels direction, a slight tilt to his chin as he lowered his upper body somewhat to the table, "but I've had my fair share of gang battles and let me tell you, that kind of scum has no reason being in Hub City. Their uncoordinated wack-jobs that blindly follow the leadership of the guy with the biggest gun, they never fail to amuse with their absolute stupidity," he slumped back down into his chair.

"Might I remind you all," Interval folded his hands around the table's ledge and pushed slightly against it, "we have yet to locate the real device if it is indeed active, I suggest we prepare another lay out strategy for our search."

"No, no, no," Iota mumbled loudly as he head began to curl back against the chair, "I'm not flying around again for five hours."

"Hey guys," Iota's head snapped down with a puzzled glare towards the cave's opening. Steel and the now standing Interval were also quick to jump into their wide eyed assessments of the incoming figure, "Sorry I missed like…six of your messages, but I'm here now…looks like nothing much has happened."

"Todd," Interval stated while Iota moaned, face falling flat against the table top.

Todd, still lacking in much of the full on Nightwing gear, most especially the absence of his cowl piece, strode across the silver sheen floor of the cave with a smile, winking his eyes upwards as he nodded to each of his teammates, "I just got the biggest tongue lashing since my year-one storyline. Oh," his hands darted up to the sides of his head, "you'll never believe what I got out of Gotham the other day…it's like this universal satellite connecter doo-dad that can like break through everything, and I do mean everything," Iota's head slowly began to raise with narrowing eyes and scrunching lips. Interval shared his dissatisfaction with a crossing of his arms, "guys I'm telling you, we should totally be hooking this bad boy up to the cave system…movies, music, communications, this thing can get into any satellite system from practically any location…" he hopped up and down several times with some excited claps of his hands, "hold on," he chuckled with pulling away from the clap to simulate a stopping gesture, "I left it in the Blue Bird…."


	30. Iota 8 Part 1

Iota #8  
Volume 1. Story 6.  
White Martians on the Moon (Part 1)

* * *

Doing serious work on Earth's natural orbiting satellite was a difficult task, sure the first few steps were reasonably calm and collective but as the skewed perception of gravity began to waver into near super human like proportions, moon hopping became the norm; one press of the foot lead onwards into long strides punctuated by high leaps above the surface before landing solidly only to once more start all over again. "I don't know if I'll ever grow tired of this thrill," a low voice echoed through the static laced message that reached into the communication apparatuses of two other colleagues.

Three astronauts scraped the moon's floor, cementing their footprints within the cold featureless dust, each of them taking well to the weightless feeling granted to them here. The spacesuits they wore were equal parts spacious and cramped, more so of the later upon the central joints; the knees and elbows being tightly secured within complex glossy grey metal pads that conformed poorly to their motor functions for the inner sides were nothing more than rectangular bands that were expected to fold upon one another when crumpled while the outer sides were suspiciously large tops that stood to be nearly double the size of the joint bulge they protected. The more free fitting spaces were everywhere in between the joints and the concluding gloves, boots and helmet. It was a near rubbery fabric of a fading orange colour that seemed to have modelled itself after stacked tires, circling around their limbs like collected rings. The boots and gloves were of a similar mould to the joint connectors, that being the tightly wound metal pieces that composed the bottom lining of their full shin sized boots and curved around their individual fingers while additionally capping around the starts around their wrists and shins in connection to the space suit proper with long rectangular clamps.; the bulk of the hand and boots otherwise held to a standard moderate black. While the central portion of the suit maintained the soft orange, through the bulk of their torso was clad in a white vest that were fitted tightly to the suit with no hope of tear, the only abstractions; two silver shine circle shaped decals that stood atop one another on the right side of their upper chest. Over top of their heads was a rectangular shaped capsule that lain upon its broadside thereby nearly taking the entire spacing of their shoulders across. Its potential corners were quite heavily rounded to create an almost bubble image; the front had a particular strong cut from the otherwise pure white construct which had embedded within which would understandable reveal the occupant within had it not been for the gold tinted visor that was firmly position in front of it. Their white hulking backpacks on earth would have made moving a difficult operation, but up here the large body encompassing packs felt more like lifting a feather weight pillow.

"Three repair drones lost in two hours…" the low pitched voice continued in the light hearted sentiment, "can't say I'm really ashamed about that. The more often those unreliable piece of scraps break down, the more we get to come out here right?" the astronaut's feet came to land solidly on the ground, in that moment, deciding to tap the small silver disk embedded in the vest's right side before lunging back into another jump. Instantly, a thin neon blue line faintly reached out through the golden visor, vertically rising overtop of where the right eye would be, "still no signal from either one of them.

"Keep scanning for their connection feeds, each one of those little critters costs double our collective salaries," A more cleanly fleshed voice stepped in with an evident air of authority all about it, that one person lurching forward from the centre of the three person line up, "let's get our job out her done so we can return to our 'regular' activities."

"Three years together on a lunar base watching machine do our jobs," the subordinate with a happy tongue suddenly lost that cheery flavour, "how do we know they haven't just cloned us every three years after our contract expires? When was the last time anyone of you talked to a family member on earth?"

Though the arrangement of stars upon an endless black surface provided a head spinning experience for those of whom new to such wonders, the astronauts on this moon excursion were well seasoned veterans and thus the vastness of space had long become an ire of disbelief and boredom; too many nights were spent staring out into the distance only to leave them in cold in their feelings towards the relationship between mind and body. It was the incapability of fathoming the universe that had driven many of their comrades mad and so they knew better than to explore it. The moon's surface was not much better a sight though, the skimping sun beams the flowed across its surface only assured that its deceitful dirt was at its fullest of details; a jump under one's own strength was impressive and understandably fun, but looking down to the surface as the boots met the soft marsh of collapsing moon dust made the experience feel so banal with time, thus it was the priority of enjoyment that one kept their head transfixed into the distance, focussed upon a point that would ensure the longevity of such a tasteful thrill.

The three astronauts plotted a course towards a particularly vibrant spot for collecting the sun's immensity, a spot that deviated from the norm of endless grey mounds with a highly productive copper hued shine that stuck firmly within a multitude of evenly line long mile strips, panels of a sort, raised above the surface to about waist height and no more than three feet across with just over an inch of space in-between separating the rows from one another. "How could all of the Solar Panel's just have gone offline?" a youthful voice arrived in a questioning tone, the third member whom was eagerly making way towards the destination albeit with smaller more thought out steps. There were dozens of these solar panels stretching along the curvature of the moon, embedded deeply into the surface by way of black painted protruding beams which were most notable for the half circle tops that comprised the wide spanning beam supporting the bulk of the panels, their shape being the guiding force for directing the panels at angles that best exemplified the sun's grandeur.

"I'm thinking that perhaps some debris trampled along the transmission plate," the evident leader came to land alongside the row of panels, the other two joining the solid position soon after with a thunderous trail of falling soot in the wake of their sliding heels to get some traction on the floor.

"No," the thickly voice beamed in with a heavy tone of dissidence, "I've checked the transmission tubes and the satellite receptors myself," the person's arms were tossed out widely in reaction to the diving knee of the leader to the moon's surface in preparation to examine the intricacies of the panels' components, "they're all working fine, there's just no signal being sent."

The leader of this engineering crew, after successfully reaching low enough to match his head with the panel's ledge, reached out a hand to touch along the surface of nearby support beam he was facing, letting his palm slide down its side so as to reveal the glassy furnishings which almost immediately lit up from the black backdrop a series of square buttons the size of thumbs, balanced against each other with alternating greens and reds that assured there to be no confusion. An unexpected grunt hit the radio waves, "what's wrong?" one of the others asked as the leader took back to an upright standing position.

"They've been tampered with," the leader responded shortly, turning to look to the other engineering astronauts with a simple nod that all but confirmed the growing garden of confusion amongst them.

"What does that mean?"

"Someone has been through here and manually reconfigured all the connection feeds," the leader sifted another look to the two astronauts, taking the time to greet their bobbling insecure bodies, all the more so appearing ready to voice their innocence when their eyes seemingly connected through the gold visor, "each of us has been out here once in the past fifteen hours."

"You surely can't be convinced that one of us is responsible?"

"I am convinced of no such thing," the leader snapped in with a strong response, "I was the last of us to be out here. That was a little over three hours back…I recall them to be transmitting at peak efficiency."

"So what's going on?" the most youthful of the three arched his head around the body of the commanding officer, tipping over slightly to get an undisrupted view of the shattering copper glowing panels.

"The signals been retransmitted elsewhere," the leader nodded with an eclipsing serious edge to his final nearly slurred words. An indefinable silence fell upon their communication feeds, their collective minds distancing away from a climbing fear to approach the path that would inevitably lead to a logical explanation, perhaps a circuit breaker malfunction or a undetected phenomenon wreaking havoc with the transmission waves, but the more thought placed upon these such notions, the more doubt began to find its grounding and grow into the unknown and unaccountable.

"Did you see that?" a less than pleasant screech echoed throughout the astronauts' helmets, the voice of the youngest member being quite shrill in response to a darting image that had taken the focus away from the multitude of panels and into the far distance where the cavernous holes and crater lay unmoving. The astronaut's arm was as straight as it could be, all fingers directed towards the sharply pointed series of ledges that while small, appeared no less mountainous than their earthly counter parts though with one grave exception; the barren crater on the other side. "Something ran across threw those peaks."

The other two astronauts turned accordingly, slapping their boots against the ground for a little boost upward, slowing swerving themselves through the muck of the moon's dust to get an idea of what their comrade was looking towards. "What was it?" the leader's head turned around sharply to collide vision with that of the shocked member whom was steadily letting the bulk of the raised arm drop back to its appropriate side. "What did you see?" the commander reasserted the question with a much stronger bent to the tone taken.

"There was someone," the response came weakly, "something humanoid."

"There should be no one here except us," the thick voiced astronaut turned around to retreat back into the circle of fellow moon workers, "we still won't be picked up for another month."

"There was someone there," the youth's tongue became more solid as it was immediately followed with a hefty pump of air, "it was hard to see from this distance, but it definitely someone," eyes wavered along the rows of the waist high black beams protruding from the ground, leading outward past the flattened field designed for the solar panels and leading into the cavernous holes and rough terrain that was at best, left unexplored by human touch for the preference of automated devices.

"Let's check it out," the leader's voice hit into the others with an understanding clarity. A simple yet affirming nod to both astronauts was enough to convince them to follow, soon all three taking upon a path that led them to the area in question. Boots ruffled up the moon's dirt once more creating scuffs marks in succession of their continual hopping. Past the rows of panels, the leader was the first to arrive at the craters ledge, feeling around his boots to land just short of the rising cliffs, a series of rocky mounds that rose up at the most a metre in half, the occasional mound being flattened across its breadth but more often than not pointed to a narrow spike; nonetheless the crater's solid portions was at least a foot high across. One foot slipped through the sides of two mounds, scrapping the dust downward with the slow motion of the boot until it could reach upon the more solid walling. The leading astronaut was just about ready to tip over into the crater, to hopefully get the lay of the land, how deep was it, how massive before entering, but before such a sight could be made, a loud thunderous crunch, a cracking noise of displaced rock, barrelled in all around them. The peaks from which the boot made its way down began to slide away from one another, breaking away at every conceivable side to turn into a puddle of rubble. Onward the collapsing continued, spreading over to the surrounding small peaks and stretching down to the small wall of its base which shattered at a near instant. In an effort to calculate an escape plan, the commander tossed a look back to the others but was instantly stunned motionless by the passing through of a single fault line, a dark ebbing flow of darkness along the moon's surface that ebbed its way like lightning between his legs and split the fellow astronauts from each other. A look down to their legs placed within them only fear, seeing the straight ridged lines of the separation's interior, spacing out from each other with every passing second, developing into a canyon.

Even with the light pull of gravity upon them, the astronauts lost their footing upon the surface they stood upon, the dividing canyon creating cliff sides that could not quite hold them. The slight impact of their attempted hops gave way to further bending of the ground, cracking it down to small pieces as though they were meteorites intent on adding to the population of craters. All attempts to get themselves free of the crumbling ground proved lost, they now becoming caught up in the tumbling reactions that followed their immediate loss of footing. The small screams that they gave as their last show of life was quickly overshadowed by the pounding of stone and other earthly mixtures, the crumbling cliff sides following them into the dark abyss of the canyon, dropping at a steady rate to their own bodies with nought but a single mission; bury them.

The commanding astronaut was the first to realize survival, fallen to ground of the canyon stomach first. A quick feel around with hands found this place to be rather rigid yet somehow strangely flat and solid. Head rising slowing, the leader came to understand that what had been encountered was some sort of catwalk, composed of a silvery shined metal. It was wide enough to be a path way, nearly the full width of a full sized body laid down, and was most notable for the small little spikes that bent out and up from pencil sized holes; traction for which boots were to lock upon for the briefest of moments. As much as this was a bewildering surprise, it was necessary to search for the others, to seek them out where ever they may have fallen but as this was being chosen, the full disorientation of the body became recognized with the smallest of pushes up to at least on one knee. Gone, they were both gone, buried beneath heavy blocks of dirt and rubble, a simple look back revealed such and the leader could not keep eyes upon it for long, lost as any leader would be without anyone to follow. A look ahead now with a more clear head brought forth the most strangest of sights, that which lined the full length of the catwalk, that miles long stretch of grated metal. There appeared to be some kind of pods, their sides the darkest of greys that moulded well from the surrounding walls, cut out with the most straightest of manufactured lines a few feet so as to maintain an almost coffin like box laid upright. The front was covered in a sheen of plastic looking glass, a bubble of sorts that was lightly tinted to a sky line blue and shined just as such for the lights within appeared brazen with such a colour. However, what had caught the now lone astronauts attention most of all was what kind of being was stationed within, something with crescent like hands, claws, and foreheads that curved backwards into peaks behind the wholeness of their heads; they were beings he did not fully recognize in the sparse moments but nonetheless felt the history lessons seeping in on him, knowing full well that these aliens were not the kind interested in discussion and the passing of knowledge as most others before them were, no these were very much a different breed, a warrior race, and here they were, seemingly thousands of them lined up in their sleeping chambers all the way down the path waiting to be activated from their rest.

A loud thunderous shriek brought on the terror and returned the disorientation in the astronaut's eyes, all the pain was in head but it felt itself to manifest in all facets of the body also. The astronaut's arms reached for the helmet, clambering tightly around it with spaced out fingers in hopes of clutching the organic body part it protects just as a scream was about ready to gain freedom from the tightly clutched teeth. Standing over top of the astronaut was one of these beings, long muscular arms and legs well fashioned to a body near three heads taller than the normal human. Hands claw like with the curving arches and fashioned points, three peaks rising along the back of their scalp and tightly bound teeth as fearsome as ever with the narrowing sharpness. It was a White Martian, one pulled from its sleep to deal with pest control, and as the human astronaut came to know, the worst thing to find in such an alien was the red eyes, those terribly strong eyes that glowed in the most strangest of fashions…telepathically placing with the astronaut the deepest of fears, bringing forth life's greatest tragedies as the final thoughts before an inevitable death. A hand was raised over top of the astronaut's knelt head that fell over top a collapsed body, the Martian seemed to smile a bit, somehow enjoying the torment it was inflicting.

* * *

"Kindred Emma?" Deryck let the name slip out from tired lips. The previous day's activities had left his body sore with stressed muscles and weak bones, further adding insult to the mental fatigue that came about through the personal entanglement this past battle cost him [Iota#8]; all of this despite the powerful abilities that his Lantern's ring granted him. As this was to him, sleeping was a process of great difficulty. His hair was of a fine black, shortly trimmed and at the moment quite moist with the invasion of sweat while his eyes a rare light green that sparkled with the colour of his ring. Tightly bound to his upper body was a simple black t-shirt which, like his hair, had a bit of wetness to it, oozing down from under his arms. "Kindred Emma…is it you?" he stumbled upwards to coherent words, fighting against the coarse heat that travelled down his throat. He clawed his hands onto the ending line of the thick green blanket that decked along his single-person sized bed, pushing away at the covers as he pulled at the pivot of his lower back to sit upright, head turning sharply to look across to the centre of his room, looking down the way between the fading green painted broadside walls with heavy breaths and an even heavier heart.

Deryck had no doubt whom it was he was witnessing. She had long hair that delicately curled around her shoulders, flipping around with their broad curving sides only to come down with a knock along the side of her face so as to keep her ears ever so covered though he knew quite well what had made them special; the point at with the top bend of her ears formed into. Taking to the fullness of her body was a single piece suit that was quite slimming of her muscular form, an acrobatics costume that cut off at the downward turn of her shoulders and road around the bulbs of her ankles. Though her sudden appearance in his room was frightening, the feelings were quick to subside as he came to understand the emerald energy of his ring being source of her creation; a being composed of nothing more than the illustrious green lantern particles hardened together into a crystalline form.

Shaking himself free of the awkward stare, Deryck pulled his focus down to the back of his hand, catching his eyes upon the circular top of his Lantern ring, the piece of jewellery bounded to his finger with an impossible unmovable strength. The bumping ridges of his legs became more peak like in orientation at the knee as he rotated his body outward to the bed's side ledge, letting his feet land solidly to the firm wood panelled floor to soak in the cold that tickle his feet. "How is this happening?" He let his hand slump on its wrist joint, shaking it out just ahead of his chest, his breaths barely holding onto a regular beat.

"Deryck…" Kindred Emma's voice, the sounds that formed his name, lingered onward well after it was gone. It had been a long time since he heard her voice like this; a young acrobat from a foreign world, her life was cut short when an unknown alien came down to the home she shared with other worldly outcasts, gutting them of their kinship and stripping them of their freedom, dragged off into slavery without much of a fight. Deryck was there when she died, that moment in which she drew her final breaths being used to transmit her soul self into the mind of the boy [Iota #2]. She had appeared sporadically in his dreams, a pleasant experience in the meagre times that he did sleep; it was however this taking on of a physical form outside of his head that induced a strain horror throughout his body.

"I can't hear it," Deryck clasped his cupped hands over top of his ears.

"Deryck, its ok," Kindred Emma's sweetly soft toned voice placed him at ease. She raised a calming hand and stepped towards him the smallest bit with the lightest of taps, "I've found my way into the ring, communicating with it," she came to a delayed stop three paces short of the seated boy, producing a reassuring nod with a puzzling sparkle in her full emerald hued eyes.

"How is this possible?" Deryck's hands dropped, body leaning forward to take a longing look towards the friend he thought to be long lost from the physical realm, "I'm not doing this…am I?" his head began to waver around with unhinged confusion, eyes still locked however upon hers.

"No," Kindred Emma responded with a hushed expulsion of air, "I felt the pain you were going through. I feared you would be unable to open up in such a peaceful world of dreams as we have time and again escaped to," her head began to bow down slightly, her voice trailing off with a bit of a whimper, "you needed something more than just bliss in sleep, you needed something you can see, hear and feel…you needed something real." Her head rose abruptly, "how are you feeling?"

Deryck gulped, "terrible."

"What happened?"

"I was forced into fighting one of my closest friends," Deryck sighed, letting the strength of his body compress downward onto the soft ledge of the mattress, shoulders slumping down at angles with the sullen decline of his chin, "I didn't want to but I…we were left with no choice." He gulped once more, "every time I attempt to press forward with my life, my past always seems to collapse down on me now, presenting this challenge that I don't want to be a part of…I thought that having you in my head, this ring," his hand casually raised to showcase the glistening emerald gem around his finger, "would keep me an honest person, that the power I was given had its boundaries, restricted to heroic acts."

"You've taken on that challenge, and you've done so well," Kindred Emma stepped in with a soothing voice.

"No, I haven't," Deryck shook his head, "this isn't me. My friend was a much better person. He knew what was good at the end of the day. I'm just some confused boy. Look what happened to him…I don't even really want to think about it, cause I don't know. He had good intentions but when he harnessed all that power, he nearly took out half the city [Iota#7]."

"He was the one we met on the steps [Iota #1]?" Kindred Emma asked.

"Yeah," Deryck nodded with buttoned lips, "I hated him at the time, but now I realize what good he was trying to achieve. Nothing I've done in my life has actually made it any better than it was before. My friend was just looking for peace and realized that petty crimes and violent actions wouldn't bring him that," he nodded affirmatively. "He knew me," he shook his head with an empty glare, "couldn't believe that I would be the one given the power to do well for this world, it sickened him. Had I failed to stop him, he would have done nothing but ensured that this failure would stick with me the rest of my life."

"You can't be blaming yourself like that, he had to make the decisions that led him down that path," Kindred stepped to the side of Deryck, politely taking a seat beside him, her heavy structure furthering the mattress's decline to the box spring mattress below.

"I forced the decision upon him," Deryck reciprocated a look across to Kindred Emma, "as this hero now, I don't want to be looking back to my past," he shook his head in dissatisfaction, "all I can see are the times where I messed up…I've saved a city and I don't even care, all I can see is the dead bodies of an innocent family because I hesitated to try an save them, because I felt that maybe he deserved it [Iota #6]." He looked to her with an enduring stare but nodded when he found the girl's lips to be quite tightly bound together, "I never felt such soullessness before I was bestowed with this responsibility, I don't think I can handle it," but the silence continued, "Kyle's been good to me, I think he understands what I'm going through but he's not exactly someone I can just talk to about these things…let me tell you though, I've never felt safer under a stranger's roof before."

"I'm very sorry for the way you feel," Kindred Emma suddenly piqued up, her hands weaving in together upon her closed lap, "and I'm sorry but there's more that I feel is necessary that I add upon your weight," Deryck let out a small gasp, "the ring…it may just be a child, but it's no stranger to knowledge," she took upon herself a serious tone, "there's something that Kyle is telling you. Something very important…."

"What?" Deryck snapped off in confusion.

"It won't tell me what it is," Kindred Emma continued, "but there's something more going on around here than you realize…it's trying to save you."

"Save me?" Deryck scoffed, "it chose me, what am I supposed to get out of that?"

"I don't know," Kindred Emma mustered a strong outburst before trailing down into a rigid whimper, "I don't know…I'm just worried now," she tilted her head away, eyes closed, "I don't want you to hate me."

"Hate you?" Deryck attempted to draw in her attention, placing a firm hand upon hers, letting his skin sink into the glossy features and impressions, "what could possibly bring me to hate you?"

"You should enjoy what has been given to you, that you can turn the tides of war into peace" Kindred Emma turned inward to face him, sadness eclipsing the bottom curvature of her eyes along with lips trembling ever so slightly but making an effort to fight away at the unwanted act of crying, "It's what I…we would have wished for; peace, not vengeance." Deryck's hand slipped away from her lap, roaming up wards to her shoulder level where he nimbly worked away at dispersing the lacy green hair from her sides revealing the tightly pointed ear tips. The soft clutching of his hand against her neck brought forth a small smile in her, a relief coming across her eyes where the sadness was pushed back into an emotional abyss; however the moment was to be ultimately short lived. "What's wrong?" the smile of hers faded away as she caught upon the cringing look that dwelled beyond Deryck's calm façade.

"No its, nothing," Deryck cheerfully responded with a slight shake of his head, "it's just a bit cold." The cling of his hand against Kindred Emma's side lost its tracking suddenly, her eyes widened with the lessening grip of her lips as she distanced herself away from him. Her body began to contort, grasping for the unneeded oxygen; it became plainly evident that she was in a state of fear, "no, Kindred Emma," Deryck fanned his arm down back to his own side, "I didn't mean it like…" she bolted up to her feet and hurriedly backed away from the bed line, light taps backwards, eyes looking back to him with their fumbling jewel emplacement. The emerald crystalline that made up her form began to dematerialize, losing the brightness that made it whole to become more ghost like, paling down to a sickening state, "Kindred Emma, I'm sorry…" but as the apology rang out, the girl in his room had disappeared, returned to the source of energy in his ring and lost once again in the consciousness of his mind though leaving him quite a lone, "I'm sorry.

* * *

Kyle was always up in the modest hours of the early morning, at least that's how it appeared to Deryck whom would often find his Lantern guardian to be creatively using his ring's abilities at this time, constructing devices that he believed his young mind to be in capable of fathoming on his own. Sounds of his creations reverberated throughout the walls of the townhouse; throwing off an echo of heavily distorted fields of energy and sounds that soon or later conglomerated together to forge words. Kyle had certainly been working on something with his ring, but it seemed to be this morning something more of leisure than that of creative in its expenditure.

At the straight centre of the townhouse, Deryck approached the last stairwell down to the first floor, carefully taking to each step so as to avoid impending slips with the wooden slates and their varnished finishing. He had since shirked off with the sweat stained black shirt, taking up a softer clean white shirt that quite readily conflicted with his black slacks though it was fair to state its brightness was regularly subdued with the wrapping of his green leather like jacket. His body was quite a bit stiff, his palms and fingers all numb but nonetheless coerced into movement, the one nearest to the handrail being pushed towards it with flittering movements but upon coming to stick down along its surface came to provided only the basics of support on his trek down.

The dark stain of polished wood continued on the first floor though in a much different capacity to the steps that built up the stairway, taking to narrower strips, panels, which clicked together on their long broadsides that spanned across the floor from broadside to broadside. The stairwell mostly clung to one side of the tall wall, the side to Deryck's right being that of a sizable hallway that started from the small foyer at the front of the house and traversed all the way to back where the wooden panels gave way to the white linoleum, a kitchen space. There had been a great deal more to admire about this place than when he had first arrived, these kind of homely locations being all to foreign to him, manufactured in all senses, but today, it felt a little brighter, different from how he recognized it. The straight edged window emplaced within the top half of the front door absorbed the sun with much fortitude, spattering out the rays and particles along the floor to reveal the extent of damage it had experienced in a recent brawl between Kyle and three hit-men [Iota#5]. Similar accruements though to a greater extreme were found when he turned towards the hallway, placing a look through the wide opening that led into the spacious living room arrangement. At the front of the room about on par with the front door was a cumbersome window enfranchised in the wall, for the most part, its effects were dampened down by the necessary tinted shielding, the generated privacy being required in light of their activities indoors while still providing a view of the serene neighbourhood that they lived in; today however, the sun's power ploughed on through the tint, throwing its stretch of light across the room thereby exposing what damage had fallen upon it. The floor was scuffed up in black, punctured and churned while the fading green walls had been punched through in a myriad of places, forced to display their cotton insides. It was not by all accounts a pleasant sight, but too Deryck, at least for this moment, it added character to an otherwise lifeless shack of a home.

"Good morning," Kyle nodded from his seated position as Deryck came to firmly stand within the christened white trimmed opening. Originally the room had in its collection four chairs; smooth dark wood pegs supporting a rather large seating box with an even larger back rest, all held together with a tight wrapping of thin fabric that held an unbearable shade of green that openly clashed with all things around it. Now though, three of those chairs had been destroyed, chucked around in a fight and ripped of their supporting pegs leaving only one left albeit in a less than moderate condition though it sufficed to keep Kyle upright and seated at the centre of the room. Taking up the immediate corner to Deryck's right side opposing the window front was the construct that Kyle had seemingly produced with relative ease, a diagonally spanning television screen about a foot in thickness and double that for its base height before leading off into the large wide screen arrangement. The energy used of course had placed harsh restriction in colouring of its furnishings, holding the crystalline emerald green hues as produced by the ring's power with one notable exception; the screen. Within its surface was a vapid array of colours that formulated to create people that fit well in sync with the words and sounds that eschewed from the speakers in the base. Deryck lingered into waters of difficult thinking, wondering about the kind of knowledge that went into constructing the innards so that they would produce such a display and whether or not he would one day be capable of producing such a construct under his own will.

"Nothing in my room is working," Deryck weakly commented.

"The city was forced to shut down the power because of the near explosion of accumulated energy," Kyle sharply responded with a nod, "that kid with the Doctor Light armour fried pretty much every light bulb across the city." He was a tall figure, even when seated, with short hair of a strong black purity that zipped up in small spikes from atop his forehead while declining in length towards the back. Kyle rarely removed the straight black suit that comfortably formed to his body underneath his Lantern uniform, though it was fair to note that he had often taken to wearing a straight pair of dress pants that blended well with the under suit as well as a variety of standout button up shirts that loosely hanged upon his shoulders, the one currently worn being a white one that look as though it was plastic because of the flat near geometric shaped crumples along his shoulders. "Absorb several storage batteries forcing a hospital to shut down for a few minutes. The lunar solar panels have been shut down and it couldn't have been at a worse time," Kyle concluded. After a few seconds of silence, he briefly looked to Deryck with a nod and tipped towards a sour tongue, "we're experiencing a heat wave."

"I can't remember what happened last night," Deryck slapped up a hand to the corner of his forehead, eye lids wincing together as his chin dropped down to his chest, "must have passed out."

"We stopped him," Kyle responded with a stalling hush, "I had to carry you home for the most part, you powered down about halfway here," Deryck gulped along with a bit of a cough, stepping inward of the room on a curving line that placed him more directly in front of the emerald formed television screen, "how are you doing?" Kyle looked up to him with some concern to his hard green eyes.

"Bodies still sore," Deryck dropped his hand, letting it slip down and across his stomach to clutch his other arm, "guess I'm not as invulnerable as I thought the ring made me." Less than interested in the colourful blue weather report with the assorted of clouds and yellow suns, he stepped over to the window and looked out across to the assorted tall townhouses with their structured brick overlays and accentuated window frames, all of them nearly holding a uniform construction outline. The tint had added a strange purple hue to the neighbourhood but this was of minor concern for his focus had already transcended beyond them, placed upon the clean skies which he marvelled at for its infinite feeling in perception.

"He could have destroyed the entire city," Kyle continued in a hardened monotone, "you did well last night."

"You don't seem too terribly satisfied about that accomplishment," Deryck was quick to spit out a response sharpened with cynicism.

"Kids shouldn't be super villains," Kyle locked the back of his thumb against his nose, massage it there with closed eyes which winced in disbelief, "every generation, they just keep getting younger and younger," he dropped his hand and let out a disturbing sigh.

"What do you suppose they'll do with him?" Deryck turned around abruptly, looking to Kyle with open eyes, willing open for answers whether positive or negative.

"I don't know for certain," Kyle nodded his head before proceeding to ease himself out softly from his chair, stomping his fingers into folds around the ends of the armrests and applying just enough pressure to get soundly onto his feet, "these kinds of situations," he wavered a bit in his speech, "they often pass through with little tribulation. He was just a troubled kid before, now though…he's been connected with multiple murders," he stepped out from the circumference of the chair, finishing off his simple step manoeuvre when he came to face the large pane of glass, the deeply tinted window Deryck stood in front of blocking, "then there's the case of the Doctor Light armour and the threat he posed to city because of it…the League has already shown some interest in how he was able to reconstruct it from a bunch of scrap metal pieces at a Police lock-up bin, never mind how he got his hands on it in the first place. Suffice it to say, he'll no longer be a threat to yourself or the city."

"Yeah," Deryck gulped with a jittery nod away back to look out through the window.

"I thought maybe we'd take a break today," Kyle crossed his arms across his chest as he took a to a more upbeat tone, "down play the rings for a while, you know after everything that's happened, we both could use some time off," he rose up his ring hand and slowly pulled his fingers down to the palm, showcasing the powerful glint of energy that surged into a singular inch long spike up that eclipsed the engraved Lantern's logo. The sounds of the emerald formed television suddenly flat lined, the shock of colours soon disappearing from the screen along with it. Without a moment's hesitation, the hard spanning panels that composed the television set's form degenerated down into mere contour lines that made up a loose fitting frame. In less than three seconds the entirety of the television ceased to exist.

"No, I…uh," Deryck stumbled with a crooked smile, "I was hoping I could you know, kind of enjoy it?" he turned back to Kyle with a bounce of his eyebrows sending a wave of wrinkles through his forehead, "I get that it's not really something an inter-galactic police force would normally allow with their equipment, but I just…" he let out a brief sigh, waving around his ring hand intently, "want to slow down and really try to understand what I've got here." He shirked his shoulders, "I want to fly." Kyle nodded with a buttoned lip, turning away slightly back to the chair, slowly making his way around it, "what's wrong?" Deryck questioned with a shocked expression.

"I have to…recharge my ring," Kyle groaned in response.

"Recharge?" Deryck squinted down a single eye in puzzlement, favouring a look to his ring.

Kyle briskly raised his head upon a finalized stop in his stride, "yeah, I have to input as much energy as I put out…" he wavered his shoulders from side to side, "I like to keep it upwards of the ninety percentile, never know when I'll need a lot of reserve energy."

"I've never had to recharge…" Deryck seemingly complained, "and I've probably have used mine as much as you've used yours."

"Well," Kyle cupped to a hand to scratch his chin, "your ring is sort of a special case isn't it?" He nodded affirmatively, "your ring has a particularly strong connection to the central battery. Given time, the ring will recharge on its own."

"So basically, it's got an infinite capacity of energy," Deryck's words reeked of thrill.

"More or less," Kyle hummed, "you will have to recharge at some point if you pass the threshold from which it cannot refresh without passing through the central battery. Anything short of turning off the central battery itself, you should be wielding a hefty supply of power."

"Well now you really don't seem all that enthused," Deryck chuckled a little.

"Deryck," Kyle looked to the young Lantern with a serious edge to his eyes, "it's not something I really wanted to bring up today, but you nearly killed that kid," Deryck suddenly became stunned, absolutely motionless, "the standard issue Lantern rings don't allow its wielder to kill, yours however…you have free reign to do as you please with this kind of power. The central battery would have to be shut down, every ring depowered, if you were to be stopped," he grew sterner, "do you understand what I'm saying?"

Deryck flopped out his hands, tossing them out to his sides in disapproval, "there was nothing I could have done…I had no choice. The city could have been destroyed if I hadn't tried something."

"You had a choice," Kyle affirmed, "your ring offers you a great deal of power to wield under your will, but you lack it, that strength of will." He let out one last sigh, "you were barely conscious anyway, building up the shield to block that kind of force was relatively easy in principle, I'd say we over compensated at the time," he paused as he saw the shame crawl itself up Deryck's spine, "you've done well, but you're not going to excel by taking the crudest options at hand…that's not what this is all about; revenge and killing. You're going to have to let it go if you are to harness its full potential." Deryck gulped but nonetheless followed through with an assuring nod, he certainly understood the elder Lantern's words and meanings. Kyle smiled, "alright then. Let's get ourselves powered up and out of this suburban hole."

* * *

A spattering force of emerald green particles trailed in behind the gliding force of Deryck's alternate persona, the hero Iota, in the air. His feet were firmly planted within the foot track of a strongly constructed straight angular sided snowmobile, built up from his imagination and transferred into the reality of his emerald power. His imagination however was not stopped flat after the snowmobile, formulating a slippery peaking structure that rose steadily to the sky, decked with the soft milky green snow on the verge of being smashed underneath the snowmobile's powerful tread belt, the single bar about a metre across that was the bottom section under the seat his body never came down upon. He let out a jeer of joy, watching as his constructed path of snow blow out to his sides only to rapidly disintegrate into nothingness; a construction of his mind well made with little inconsistencies to their moving components, a study session well paid off.

In protection of his identity, Deryck took to wearing a wide spanning mask, a rectangular bar of green that moulded firmly to his face, touching upon the tip of his nose and wrapping around his face to come just short of his ears. At each corner angular bits rose out; the top set conformed jaggedly along his temples while the bottom set wrapped down along his cheeks. All in all, the only differentiation from the standard green was the necessary eye slots that fell in line with the general rectangular shape, coloured as they were a more milky green. Atop of his otherwise full black body suit was a myriad of details highlighted in the vibrant green, starting at the top with shoulder bands that hit along the tops and continued downward to his shoulder blade. At the centre of his chest was a centimetre thick hexagonal shape with a stylized set of white triangles, points faced inward of one another and flattened somewhat to create the all-important Lantern emblem, though this one sharing much in common with that of a common hourglass. His boots and gloves were rather blocky, holding to strong cubic lines with the latter being notable for allowing the individual fingers to roam free of such constraints. The skies were as a clear as they could be; giving quite a clean shot of the city below though of what was seen was not as thrilling as the impossible worlds above.

Plotted along the ground were a series of high stone monoliths, old age constructions known full well for their decaying form, colours having long since washed down to the basic white soft clay that covered the inner layers. Of the more modern fixations throughout the city were the roads, well steamed cement that was formulated from a tar like composition into a hardened floor, filling in the sections surrounding the buildings with admirably tact thusly producing a flat plain of near pristine quality; regardless though, they were not exactly clean from the accumulation of filth. Being attached to the coast line, the occasional bypassing stream or inlet ventured inwards of the sandy shores to break hard ground with the rock and clay of the inner lands, making the segregations of city parts that nonetheless still reasonably held their cohesive natures by way of overlapping bridges. This was a long dated city awaiting some rejuvenation and life, but as it was currently, a number of heroes had come to take to these streets to do what they believed was their duty.

Iota had for the most part grown up in this region, doing as he saw was necessary to survive even if that involved the occasional acts of thievery. Now standing on the other side of the law and flying well above the infesting hole that convinced him to commit such acts, he was forced into a line of personal reflection, realization that the details of the streets below were not exactly something he wanted to venture back into even if he was meant to do so as this hero. He would have continued onward from this city, jumping regions to the next area where the streets were clean and the people were wholesome if only it had not been for a particular place that caught his attention, the location of the night's previous battle, and where a particular moment had been the dread of his life up to today. The snowmobile turned to gelatinous goo, letting his feet sift through the foot tracks and engulf his body. He was soon fell free of his creation's grasp and let himself fall to the ground under the gravitational pressure, leaving the breaking point of particles that comprised his creation to dwindle down into their simplest forms and disappear into nothingness as all constructs he created before had experienced.

It was not to long till Kyle had noticed the rapid descent Iota had fallen into. He too had taken the air just as his colleague had, though not in any style that would usually be deemed as being exciting, opting instead for the loosely defined normalcy of flight, hands stretched out to his sides with legs laying out back in the straight board position of his body. He was in his Lantern's uniform: heavy and tight fitting wrists bands that ran up his forearm, hard edged boots that stopped short of his knees, shoulder pieces that connected into a triangular point along his chest where at the centre the lantern logo rested in a circle of white, and the mask, a simple band of green that made his eyes appear as a milky green tinted white held within loosely fitting oval slots. The streams of green behind him suddenly amplified, stepping up the gears with hands pulling tightly to the side of his body, intent on acquiring an intercept course with Iota.

The plot of land Iota was descending too was coarse and hard in its earthly composition, a variety of hard edged stones and pebbles being strung together in a lose coating that more often than not fell into the breaking points within the soil. For the most part, the sizable region was restricted behind a rickety fence; hollowed out steel poles about the size of a full grown person being equally spaced out from one another so as to support of small metal threads intertwined with one another at diagonal angles to produce a multitude of small diamond shapes. While much of the large spacious section to his left was regulated to what he remembered as a parking place, the area to his immediate right was notable for a lone building; a darkly coated high story coliseum like structure, circular around its bends and well noted for the massive steel beams that sprouted up from the hard ground and road in over top of the roof, cutting off at the central circle that blending out from their ends. The beams themselves were exposed rather severely at the sides, the exterior plating having been ripped free of their emplacements thusly revealing the fleshy panels of wood and other metallic doo dads that built up the interior walls. The missing pieces that made up its once glorious form was most evident around the top floor rung where any integrity, whether innards or plating, was simply absent leaving just the myriad of beams as they bent towards the centre to hold the remnant chunks of ceiling. As such, the interior could be seen and though it was in the distance, the young lantern knew what was inside; decaying support walls and pillars, collapsed chairs and seating sections, churned up rubber on the stage forcibly melted under the intensity of light beams and sporadic Lantern energy blasts from his rings and other such eccentricities that could only be caused by the conflict of two super powered individuals. Additionally, the centre circle of the roof, where the beams met with their ends, was notably opened for the battle that happened here was mostly over the control of a vastly powerful weapon, a glimmering beam of white light that puncture a hole into the clouds and grew stronger in its intensity as the light from the city was drawn to its glow, amassing a threshold of energy that would backlash into an explosion that would take out a hefty chunk of the city.

Iota's intent though was not to land within the coliseum's less than confining interior, letting himself fall out beyond the fence in the region to this fair ground's backyard which he recalled instantly as being the region of which was populated with the extra-terrestrial life that gathered to this planet to build a new home, creating a realm of safety from war and destruction, Kindred Emma being one of them not to long ago. They had all since left, as was the case with that senseless sleaze ball of an entity gathering them up for his slaving droves, leaving nothing but the land in all its roughness, disturbed by their presence, perhaps for the better since it brought some relief to the boy when he saw within the hardened surface the occasional pressure point where an inhumanly large foot came to land.

Arms spaced out straight to the sides of his body for balance and feet ready to land at the full extent of his legs, Iota was nearly at the ground floor, readily thinking ahead to what he will do when he lands: take to a simple stride to the fence and clasp hands upon a computer screen no bigger than a standard sheet of paper that was welded deeply into one of the poles. "Property owned by the White Queen Company…." He mumbled to himself, his right ring hand clutching the bottom of the near two centimetre thick tablet while the other had muzzled around his chin, "never heard of them…then again who have I heard of?" he continued to speak to himself with only the ring's interior monologues keeping him company, the knowledge the little device had being comparably less to his own.

"It's weird how you always end up back here, any chance that you wanted to go out just to see this place again?" Kyle crossed his arms along with the rhetorical question, coming to land softly down near to Iota's side. He nodded to the boy with a slight smirk, "What's going on now?"

Iota threw a look over to Kyle, characterized with a hunched brow "deconstructions been put ahead," he winced his eyes, turning slowly back to the computer console, its glossy glass screen all aglow with the digitized number in their whitened hues, easily contrasting to the delicate navy blue, "someone's actually bought the place..." he slurred off in disbelief, "already set up a construction date and everything."

"I know you probably don't want to hear it," Kyle lightly traced a gloved hand atop his hair, pushing the spiky threads further back away from his forehead, "but maybe that's for the best…better than having to watch it all wrought."

"This place used to be full of life and laughter," Iota's hand dropped from the bottom of the console board, "just seems kind of dumb that they'd strip that all away and build something as dull as a weather silo."

"Oh is that what they're building?" Kyle chuckled, "well there's bound to be some good jobs in all that. Lot of good people around here could use that kind of business and besides…I suppose we can always bribe our way into them giving us some clear skies, you know since we're heroes and everything," he slipped down to a serious tone that drew across as predominantly sarcasm.

"I don't know," Iota struck the edge of his thumb nail into his chin and dragged it effortlessly up towards his lip, "something about that just doesn't feel right." His head suddenly shocked upright, hand pressed back down to his side as a peculiar ringing noise echoed in his ears, presumably emanating from Kyle's location.

"It's the Manhunter," Kyle whisked his ring hand to the side of his head, the green energy spiking out like a flash of lightning forming a circular ear bud that fit snuggled within the cavernous hole, a slightly thin bar though small, crossing down through his cheek with a small microphone at the end, "it's a message…wants to see us."

"Why?" Iota batted up an eyebrow.

"Doesn't say," the simple construct along Kyle's ear retracted back to the cap of the ring as his hand slid back down comfortably to his side, "we have to go," he nodded.

"Heroes just can't take vacations can they?"

"I never thought I'd get any days off when I went full on super hero," Kyle commented with brisk cheer, "it sounded urgent. We need to get to the JLA HQ."

"Guess I can always enjoy the flight into downtown," Iota yawned a little with the stretching of his arms outward and above his shoulders, waving them out with the opening of his lips.

"Well actually, he's not expecting us there," Kyle let his shoulder slump, "we'll be flying up to meet him."

Iota's face shrivelled into shock, "Space?"

* * *

Reaching for beyond the planet's spherical grasp almost went by unnoticed by the young Lantern. The ability to fly beyond the heavens was extraordinary unto itself; however, to survive through the impending loss of air and dispersing atmosphere that burnt up descending objects into oblivion before they hit the earth's surface required something of a strong shield to maintain survival. The common Green Lantern shield, the sheen of emerald green that fluctuated around their bodies sufficed in this situation at the expense of feeling the cold air against their face, the sheer thrill of moving so fast that there be difficulty in even the smallest of breaths, and the muscle tear against their organic limbs which if unprotected in this manner would surely be ripped from their sockets. The excitement was all in the passing visuals, the build up to the break beyond the lukewarm blue of the sky and into the vast array of stars the belt up space; as this was, for him, there was no pay off.

The speed at which the Lantern's had taken off forced an echo of green figures in their wake, streams of loose body parts that just about matched their own, waiting to catch up with the bygone solid figure from it came but always coming short, dispersing into the smaller emerald particles that fell away into nothingness after the short seconds of existence. The blue of the clear skies moulded around his body, drastically thinning away from its complete form; with the sun seemingly leaving its domain to fall upon another region of the world, the display of blue was shifting into the delicacies of royal purple which became all too common a colour for them to cut through as they reached beyond the lower regions of Earth's air space.

"How are you taking to this?" Kyle looked over to his side to catch a look with Iota, all while maintaining his hands padded nicely into soft fists, aimed out from the full extension of his arms, keeping in line with his shoulders.

"Not particularly well," Iota's head bobbled around, unable to keep a clear focus upon Kyle's eyes. His legs began to slump in behind along with the drop of his arms, breaking free of a similar position Kyle had so majestically upheld on the way up here, "I'm surprised that flying off the planet never occurred to me before," he haphazardly complained with slight sway of his head, "but I can't feel a thing, not a whole lot of thrill and now not a whole lot to look at…" his voice dribbled off into silence. Successfully coming to a full stop, he swivelled around to look upon the trail he had formed on the way up, catching just the trailing remnants of his wake as they fell away into the beautiful backdrop of the earth, the wide spanning horizon line of glowing spacious blue that he just wanted to sink his hand into. His muscles clenched up and his eyes became wide, it was absolutely clean in the most pristine of formats, so unimaginable perfect in every way, far unlike what he come to see living beyond the shady veil he now graced his eyes upon.

"Yeah," Kyle nodded, slowing down his pace so as to come on par with the young Lantern, "I remember my first time leaving the planet…leaving it all behind to get into the stars," his voice quieted down a bit as his head became transfixed upon the distance, eyes seemingly widening through the small slots in his mask, "but by that time, like you I guess, it sort of just happened on its own…to heavily involved in my Green Lantern persona that things as amazing as this were already sucked out of any excitement."

"What?" Iota was quick to lunge in with a turn to get back to Kyle, looking out into the distance of space, "you never really got around to using your ring for a little fun," he rotated his shoulders with a small shrug, finishing off with a small chuckle.

"I'd be lying if I said no," Kyle smirked.

"I guess it's kind of fine up here," Iota slipped his feet over under his under his upper body so as to come and stand upright, at least in his mind, "lots of space to do a lot of different things," he flexed out his arms, arching the elbows outwards so his hands came across at his stomach, "bet if we channelled out power together we could build a sizable Death Star or maybe engrave our names on the dark side of the Moon."

"Now that's thinking creatively," Kyle likewise tossed his feet under to stand upright, waving out a hand to point towards Iota with a bit of a wink. "But we're going have to be a little careful if we're going to be building something that commanding."

"Oh…" Iota's expression lingered on as he came to recognize the multitude of debris floating around, the spacious play field not being as open or quite as beautiful as he was led to believe. On the distant curvatures of the earth's rims were little speckles, grey dots that glistened in the sun's monstrous energy fields, the ball of flames itself being far out to their right side affirming in their minds the switch of day into night within the city they had propelled themselves upwards from. These little bits of glimmering metal were anything but small in reality, ranging from the size of a common school bus to nearly ten times that. It was tons upon tons of forged metals, mixed into singular tubular or square bar like structures, anything to suit the needs of the surrounding dish panels that ventured off from these central bars like branches on the tree. The leaves off these branches were often a hefty mix of wide basin dishes and copper hued thin panels that were more often than not the full size of a central structure it branched off of. "There are a lot of them…" Iota casually placed a hand to the back of his neck as he came to recognize more than several dozens of them floating around, many of which revealing their true girth on their approaching course.

"Last I read, the planetary union placed the cap on man-made satellites with the Earth's limits as being within fifty thousand," Kyle was swift to contend, "but with the way things are going, I would not be surprised if some companies and countries have sent up more than they are willing to announce."

"It's almost like a metal junkyard up here," Iota scowled with a swift turn back to look upon the earth, immediately getting caught up in the sight of a piece of rustic debris floating by him at a snail's pace, the wonky plate seemingly having been torn from a much larger accompaniment, "why doesn't the International Space Agency take some of these old wrecks down…heck, why doesn't the league?"

"It's kind of hard to explain really," Kyle turned back to face the earth, crossing his arms as he watched the encroaching debris of long since lost satellite devices, "the agency doesn't hold rights to all satellites, most of them are private or government controlled. The majority of the satellites up here are actually weather control operators…since the western world kind of messed up early on with weather regulation, they've been forced to take drastic controls in other regions of the planet to maintain some…normalcy," the final word slipped difficultly off his tongue, "nothing can touch the corporations' holdings and I guess we don't complain much cause we can't see them from the ground. Sure we can strip down all the public held satellites to a minimum but then we might inadvertently cause a snowstorm in the Sahara desert."

"Well I think they could use some snow," Iota slyly commented, uncertain even to himself whether the comment was to be perceived as serious or humorous.

Kyle crossed his arms and sighed briefly, "all our lording over the Earth has had some negative side effects…creating enough rain to feed crops in Africa would mean to send a drought across central Canada, the breadbasket to much of the world." He nodded affirmatively, "it's actually makes for some really difficult questions to answer…with all these powers, it's a wonder why we haven't solved all these world problems," Iota's face scrunched up in puzzlement as he turned to his backside to look to his Lantern mentor, "all those acts we might perceive as being for the good may have made things worse for someone else…it's like that problem that Superman kept telling me about, the one he could never solve," he brightened up a bit, the nostalgic return of fond memories of the world's greatest hero, yet to all to bittersweet in its execution when realizing of the dilemma, "you can kick the drug dealers off of one street, but then what's to stop them from setting up shop on the next street over? And then the next one?"

"What, so someone else will blow up the next city over?" Iota shook his head in disbelief.

"I really wish I could answer you…it really doesn't all surprise me now that the big blue left us some years back," Kyle smirked, "from what I understand, he was trying to show that if we do too much, then people, they'll come to rely upon us, even ask us to do feats that they could have accomplished under their own strength." He slipped into a serious edge, "I was more akin to believing it hurt us heroes more because we can't always be there for them…and with all our powers, how is it that we fail time and time again? I think that what really got him," he nodded his head, "all our good acts have all kind of unintended reactions we haven't thought about or could have even comprehended at the time, they just sort of happen and there's nothing we can do about it."

"Agh," Iota growled in a loose fuelled rage, "when did we veer so far off from satellites?"

"Come on," Kyle shook his head with a smile, leaning off back into his flying position, arms raised ahead for direction, "Watchtower is right around the bend."

The Justice League's orbiting headquarters far outclassed any of the other surrounding artificial satellites, indeed, it was far too different in its overall build and structure to be truly a part of a similar classification; a literal fort in space, it was unique unto itself in perspective of the planet it orbited. The central part to the satellite was a long cumbersome cylinder of plated metals albeit moderately flattened along the sides to produce a more stretched out appearance. The presumable middle to top regions of this central cylinder were noticeably thicker than the lower region, the more recognizable metal plates that surrounded its circular being narrowed down to a flat cut-off point from which a multitude of small poles, rods and spires arose out from, bunched up together, glinting metallic blues and red pulsating lights. The middle section was the most distinguishable of all portion of the cylinder for its longer flattened sides were remarkably smooth with the only abstract feature being a rectangular engraving that rose from the bottom to the top of the middle section thusly preventing the smooth plates to make a full seamless ring. The rectangle appeared to have accumulated a massive amount of side to side gratings, engraved horizontal slashes that balanced the lighter tints of grey against the shadows formed by the ridges; it was a regional area that stood apart from the dark metallic slate colouration of the side plates. Just underneath the middle section, before the cut-off leading into the long firm metal tendrils, was a particularly smaller yellow bracket that distanced itself inward from the main narrowing figure of the satellite proper, a lower docking bay of sorts that stood out not only as a result of the strange differing colour but also for the fluctuating orange and red orbs that circles around it; flight beacons.

The top part of the of the satellite was rather stunted by comparison with the lower regions; however, it was no doubt the most largest of sections for the bulk of the thickening central tube was covered over by a spacious circular hoop. The outer hall of the massive hooping disk held upon its surface a myriad of electronic looking equipment, jagged cord like lines that looped into slashing lines, moulding in behind the smooth geometric edges of the plates that sporadically decked along its surface. Just above the hoop was the end, the bulging dome top that appeared almost stairway like in the breaking of lines albeit still holding the circular whole. Just as it was at the opposing bottom end, the top was noted for the spiking spires that rose above the dome, the multitude of shattering lights flashing off and around the silvery lined metal rods. The satellite in its full form was adequately balanced; if it had been as small as a sceptre then a hand would have no trouble working its way around the middling smooth section, the thumb and index finger slipping in just under the hoop before colliding with the interior walling sections that connected it to the central tube of the satellite.

* * *

The sound of Iota's hard crystalline boots against the metallic blue floor resonated loudly throughout the room. He was on course for the pristine plate of glass that comprised the entirety of the wall facing out into the vastness of space, the light shade of the moon in its round shape being the most notable point for his stare to fall upon, analyzing the mounds and craters that smashed along its surface all while being keen to the long strip of black that crossed over the moon like a belt, nearly dividing it into halves; the solar panels. He came as close as he could muster, tipping his head upwards to take a gander up the near five story window to see the thick rotating plates of the massive station surrounding hoop, their gentle sun filled glow bouncing off the thick assortments of wires and rotating silvery metal caps. His jaw dropped lowly as his head came down to its standard orientation atop his neck, a simple sigh and he was back to staring into space, getting lost in the endless array of stars, each seemingly unique when it came to brightness and proximity to where he stood.

The room was large though still small in relative terms when taking in to account the sheer magnitude the entire station. A silvery chromed pillar about four metres in diameter was near to the centre of the back wall, outcropping from the flat surface about half way of its bulk, and heading off into and presumably beyond the strip of fluorescent white panels that decked the ceiling which while known to be impressive in their glow were at the moment rather dim, the room nearly forced to rely upon the sheer strength of the distant stars. One side of the back wall beside the pillar was that much further back than its counterpart on the opposing side, dipping in on curvature of the tubular construct to fall upon a more diagonally laid stretch that nonetheless reached a clearly defined corner with the straight wall that headed out and capped off at the glass pane wall. The metallic blue hue of the floor continued up along the walls though of a slightly darker hue, easily making the silvery cylinder against the back walls as the stand out feature. The room in its entirety appeared to be an observatory or down time place of sorts, black topped tables with connecting flat brim benches scattered throughout the area like picnic tables to a park. As it was a room in plain view of space, the surrounding walls for the most part were forced to conform to the station's curvature, the thick pane of glass being something of a narrowing line that bowed outward quite seamlessly.

"Do you like the view?" a sweetly tipped voice bounced in Iota's ears, pulling him out of the empty stare in a near instant.

"Huh?" Iota twisted around suddenly. He came to encounter a tall woman with a remarkable muscular physique that was unparalleled by either Kyle or himself. She was understandably a superhero if the mixing of clean cutting yellow and black in her stylized costume were to be any evidence of assurance for her noble career. The lower region of her thick bottom ridged boots were a solid black with the yellow of an overlapping protective beginning about two thirds the way up, an inch before her ankles, before engulfing the dividing joint of foot and leg completely only to hit an end about a quarter up her shin leaving the blackened spandex fabric to make up the rest of her leggings. Her gloves followed a similar pattern with the fingers being spaced out in black while an overlapping track of yellow clambered overtop of her wrists and circled around her palms and likewise on the backside. A curious belt design straddled her waist, metal looking straps that diagonal aimed down to the centre of her body, breaking off an inch prior to the absolute centre so as to allow two pieces of a similar build and colour clamp together like a buckle, forming a six sided shape. The central focus of her costume fell down along the centre of her chest, a central bar of yellow that hit upon the top of her shoulders, curved around her neck, and continued downward to the belt, a slight quarter-inch border of gold being the dividing line between this piece and the wholeness of black. The golden border was recognizable for its shape; jagged straight lines that shined like lightning bolts.

"I didn't know Green Lantern kept a sidekick," the woman continued in her sweet tone as she approached the boy.

"I'm not," Iota haphazardly fumbled into a response, for some reason hesitant to discuss his position to a complete stranger, "I'm not a sidekick," he rose up to the challenge with a solid founding voice.

"Thunder," Kyle's voice jumped in, the elder lantern crossing along the floor to reach his colleague with open arms and a smile.

"Please Kyle," the heroine launched into a chuckle as she turned to face Kyle with a slight nod punctuated by a strong smile of her robustly strong red lips, "call me Anissa." She laid down the breadth of her right hand against her side, seemingly pushing against it to lean into a swaying hip stance, left hand fall down straight with nothing to hold against. Her eyes were a sharp brown, exemplified by her flashy dark hair, shortly cut black that shined well in the darkness of space.

"I don't think I could," Kyle gulped, slapping a fist to his chest as he came to a stop in the loose forming triangle of the three heroes, "your dad would bring down some cosmic level wraith of the lightning gods upon me…there are something's even a Lantern's willpower can't overcome." He soon came to lay his hands flat upon his waists, "how's he doing by the way?" his tone came to sit more sullen.

"He's quite fine believe me," Anissa smirked, "never got over me playing hero but then again he never really got over anything I did," the irises of her eyes slipped off in the corners of her sockets as she slipped into a more straightened stance with arms crossed along her stomach line, coming across as mean spirited despite the chipper tone that laced her words.

"Deryck," Kyle looked to his younger colleague, "This is Thunder, you might recall her father Black Lightning," he dropped both his arms, leading the opening of his palms towards the heroine as though he intended to pass something off.

"Hey," Iota was coarse to get out with eye squinted.

"It's alright," Anissa shook her head with a gentle understanding filling her eyes, "I don't get as much media exposure as my father…primarily for his benefit I might add, and I spend most of my time up here on watchtower anyway."

"That's a shame," Iota spoke up with enthusiasm. He rose up his ring hand, forming a fist so as to pull off a torch like shard of energy from its round top, "Black Lightning's schway." He paused for a moment following the drop of his fist, lifting his other hand to scratch along the back of his head, "so you've got the same abilities or something?"

"So hey," Kyle interrupted, "what are you doing up so early?" he casually kicked down a heel into the floor.

"Late night on call duty," Anissa moaned, throwing her arms upward to the sky, hand flipping inward together for the much needed stretch, "thought I'd get something to eat. Nothing comes up with Till'all handling everything," an index finger slipped up to her lips, bouncing off its soft cushioning, "mind you that guy's been awfully unsteady lately, never leaves the home room much, in fact I don't think he's left there at all. Comes with being the Martian Manhunter I suppose."

"That's who we're here to see," Iota stepped in.

Kyle raised a brow towards the younger Lantern with an unsteady facial reaction, "yes, guess we know where to find him them," he stated while turning around smoothly back to Anissa's face, "it was a pleasure seeing you again," he nodded.

"Yeah ok," Anissa grunted, lightly kicking the end of her right foot to the ground with the casual lowering of her head, "guess I'll be seeing you around," she attempted to pique up with a smile but couldn't quite get her lips to conform to the boomerang shape she desired.

"Alright then," Kyle nodded before swiftly turning to the central pillar, poised to make the venture over there.

"OK," Iota looked to Anissa as he crossed by her, rippling waves sent throughout his forehead in puzzlement, "see you around," he said with a weakening whimper. He turned forward, catching the backside of Kyle as he pressured a hand against the front centre of the pillar. He stepped up his pace into a light jog that last no longer than three seconds, stopping on par with Kyle's side. He looked up to the taller man, wincing his eyes as he saw the cold emotionless expression that made up his face. Suddenly a bracket of blue neon lights shone out from the silvery exterior, a rectangular bracket that mirrored dual door emplacements with one such steady line beaming down the centre. In a swift moment, the centre blue bar broke and the silver metal seemingly melted before their eyes drifting away from one another to reveal the inside of the hollow tube.

It was an elevator, trimmed in a circular fashion as was necessary in its movements up the pillar. Additionally, it was quite the clean looking, the walls being a solid painted white, coming across no less as stone, while the both the ceiling and floor were panels of those slightly dimmed down lights that crossed along the ceiling of the room they were just exiting from. Trudging in side, the two Lanterns nimbly turned around, watching as the smooth silver of the door close in on them, the last sight being the stars beyond the crowded tables, the glass window and most especially the super heroine Thunder. "What was that all about?" Iota crossed a look up to his supposed mentor. He had difficulty relaxing in his current stance, hovering the dominance of support to leg to leg with hands crossing together time and time again at his waist line. The delicate energy hum of the elevator soon took hold, pulsating around them unseen.

"The Manhunter said this was a private matter," Kyle returned with a stern look, "he didn't want anyone to know he had summoned us."

"Oh," Iota scoffed, lowering his head slightly in shame, "sorry about that."

"It's not really your fault," Kyle slowly grew to become more chipper, "there's a bit more going on here than just that. Thunder's father has always been strongly protective of his family, having one of his daughters suit up to fight crime wasn't easy for him to accept…and I don't blame him," he shook his head, "she thinks that he's been playing his hand in her life, ensuring that she'll stay up here on Watchtower and not get into any trouble…but she knows – and I know – that she can more than handle her own, she's practically indestructible."

"What are her abilities?" Iota prodded.

"She has the ability to alter her density and mass. She can make herself as hard as the strongest rock or as a light as a feather, become as dense and as heavy as she needs to be," Kyle concluded.

The electrical hum had me its end and Iota's eyes went all aglow when the blue lines return, the sharp edges of the neon light recreating the doors on the silver sheen, cutting it down into two piece that swiftly faded away to the side giving full view of what lay in store on the other side.

The central computer hub, as the room had come to be known private conversation amongst colleagues, was rather small in comparative terms to the rest of the station as well as completely circular in it orientation; however, it was noted that this shape was produced by a multiple amount of straight lined walls about a metre long being well connected to one another at varying angles in order to create the wholeness of the shape. This arrangement was most readily recognizable in the slanting of the desk boards which connected seamlessly with the walls about stomach height and dropped no more than an inch in its breadth, an adequate desk to sit behind to say the least. The desks' surfaces were unimaginably clean, perfectly solid in a white stone looking board which upon closer inspection was realized to be the keyboard, the buttons understandably phasing through the top in their varying light fixtures. Along the walls were the monitor screens. While understandably straight in line with the walls, the fluctuating forms of the aquatic blue colour fixture that they displayed created some havoc in perceiving such distinction – where one screen ended and another began – for the essence of this colour created a near three dimensional effect, proposing depth in an otherwise solidly flat monitor screen. It was within these screens that Iota found himself truly lost. Through the oceans depths eschewed bright baby blue land masses, jagged, quirky and rounded which he immediately understood to be parts of the world and then other parts…not so much recognizable. There was North America, Australia and other such continents beaming out in their neon flavour to take up the entirety of the screen, displaying not only the land based features but also small circular halos of red that pulsated a dispersing ring, beginning as a homely ball before widening outwards; over and over it fell into this pattern before finally disappearing from the face of the map…someone had surely been displaced to deal with whatever crisis lay in wait there.

The ceiling curved inward of the surrounding walls ever so slightly and more so circular in their depth, though once again, this was particularly difficult to notice for the entirety of its formation was made up in tightly bound lights, perfectly hued along the complete white stretch; it was brighter than the elevator and the room before it, but not much so that the finer details of the room could not be made out. The floor was similar in its foundations to the other rooms Iota had come across on the station, the glinting blue that was well fashioned to metallic surface. As this was, the boots of both Lantern's created that all too drawn out ding as they stepped in from the silver cylinder that housed the elevator; it was the only abstraction to the otherwise soundly constructed room.

Ahead of them, at the centre of the room, were three spaced out chairs composed in the silver shined metal pieces that glistened almost white on account of the ceiling's glow. The backrest curved out from the squared base to follow into a similar cornering job along the top line that quite conceivable hit well against Iota's neck if he was to sit down upon it, legs no doubt fitting well to the waving mould of the chair's base plate, fitted in such a manner to support two thighs. The tall cylinders that broke out from the base to the floor were thick and of a similar metal composition which could not be said for the disk of black plastic that fitted to the orbit of the chair with three bulging balls of silver creeping out from its bottom. The three of them were poorly placed around at the centre of the room, two of them close to one another but facing in opposite direction while the third one, the lone one in behind, sat at a bit of an angle when facing the front. The line of sight for the two Lantern transcended quickly ahead of the chairs to come across one last chair, the forth one, wedged up against the desk wall opposite the elevator. This chair however was unique to the other three for with in it sat Martian Manhunter, intently looking up the screen and all its wavering blues.

"Till'all," Kyle was quick to announce as he, along with Iota, stepped around the chairs, "we're here." The two came to a sound stop several feet back from the Martian's seat.

"I know. I have let you in," the Martian replied shortly with a sudden swivel of his chair. Even when sitting down, he was no doubt a tall entity with gangly limbs to match, though not such to be underestimated for they were of no less than an enviable muscular physique. As was to be expected, his hands were radically different from the human norm, long spindly fingers that inched forward into crescent shaped claws. All save for his hands and head were decked with a vibrant sheen of black which balanced the core strength of the white light at every possible angle; the only shine of fashionable intent was restricted to the crossing red straps from his shoulders to the sides of bodies, clamping along the upper most tops near his shoulders a flowing blue cape as modelled upon the previous Manhunter whom held this position. His face was long and mostly noted for three triangular point extension that began at the top of his forehead and flared off to the back of his head; the central one being much large to the two smaller ones darting out along the sides. The narrowing yet straight lined chin, heavy brow that was thickly of flesh, and of course those rectangular shaped set of red eyes which appeared to be menacing in their approach rounded out the rest of his facial appearance. There was however one crucial detail about him that could not go unnoticed and it was a fact that was clear upon his face and in his hands; he was a white Martian. He sat there with his red eyes analyzing the two, hands coming together for the clutching of his claw like fingers against one another, legs leaning out from his body at a straight angle, knees finally locking in such a way after long tireless hours being broken down into angles behind a computer desk.

Kyle took in a small gulp, "what's so urgent?"

"Why's he looking at us like that?" Iota crossed his arms, slightly turning his head towards Kyle on his right but keeping his eyes firmly locked at the Martian seated ahead.

"There's something going on in the station that I have been unable to detect," the Martian's cold emotionless voice snapped abruptly, arms casually dropping down to the sides with hands hovering upwards along his thighs, "I'm sorry, I've had step into minds for a brief moment so as to ensure that your consciousness's had not been tampered with."

"What?" Kyle's face scrunched up with the waving out of his hands.

"I'm sorry, but I must move quickly, pay close attention," The Martian switched around to face the screen, "someone has been stepping into the minds of league members," he slipped into a quick tone that mirrored the rapid fire successions of his fingers against the white panel top of the desk, slipping around the square lights of green, blue and red. "In the past seven days I have recognized nine attempts to access the station's main power cannon."

"What's the worry though with you watching over? You've stated this equipment to be un-hackable?" Kyle questioned with a loose tongue.

"Nothing in this universe is soundly protected," the Martian hastily responded.

"Main power cannon?" Iota batted up an eye brow.

"The League satellite comes equipped with a 'death ray' like weapon," Kyle hesitantly heeded the question, "it's designed to deal with alien invaders if they so ever try to take us on."

"So someone's trying to shoot the earth now?" Iota continued in his prodding.

"Not exactly," the Martian stepped in, "the cannon has not been charging with the necessary particles, none at least in the way it was intended for destructive purposes. In light of this event I have been forced to turn off the power supply anyway but that has not stopped the attempts to access it. No, the cannon has a variety of other settings, the one in particular I believe to be desired concerns magnetization."

"Why would we ever need something like that?" Iota nearly chuckled lightly in confusion at the seemingly preposterous notion of such a setting.

"Not everything can be destroyed with brute force," Kyle bounced off the question as he placed continued focus upon the Martian, "I'm not entirely specific about its capabilities, but I suppose the ray could be used to throw the earth off its axis? Maybe invert the poles?" he wavered more so into the successive questions, unable to soundly reach a line of thought that matched reason.

"Unlikely, the earth's natural poles have shifted in strengths throughout its history with negligible effects," the Martian contended fiercely, "nothing would come from such a strategy. There is something more and it has to do with the station's position…" he seemed to grow stern as the words slowed down to coherency, "the attempts have all been made at the time the moon lines up with the station."

"OK, wait," Kyle crossed his hands over his chest, "step back for a second, what did you mean about stepping into the minds of League members?"

The Martian's hands lifted from the desk, drawing back to his body slowly, "these attempted break-ins have nothing to do with some earthly or foreign computer technology seeping into our systems, this is simply league members acting…unusual," he finished off with much difficulty in the final word. Kyle and Iota had become fully fixated upon the monitor, watching as rectangular broadside lain panels swam through the depth of the screen to the for front to display within them crisp security footage, different heroes in an assortment of different coloured costumes and gimmicks suddenly dropping their activities and stepping towards a station conduit to work upon accessing the necessary feeds that would grant control to the weapon; Iota was quick to notice one such individual, Thunder, making her way to white panel console that layered against the wall. "I attempted to speak to each of them, but found their account of events to be lacking in detail, as though they had never actually experienced doing such a thing. I proceeded under their permission to scan their minds for remnants of a telepath but found there to be nothing…."

"You seem upset," Kyle commented under a whisper.

"I believed myself to be the most powerful telepath on Earth," the Martians hands returned to clutch each other at the fingertips. "This is indeed troubling for I know only of one other being native to this solar system that would be capable of blocking me out…another Martian."

Kyle let out a sigh of dissatisfaction, "I thought they were all dead," his hand angrily slapped down on this thighs, digging into his skin.

"And how many times have we worked under that assumption only to be fooled?" The Martian dropped a hand onto the console board, tossing it upward along the surface which immediately hit upon the disappearance of the several video frames, back into the distance of the computer domain they inhabited, "I fear now that one of them may be with us even now as we speak. Martians are exemplary at their shape shifting abilities, this person or persons will go unnoticed for as long is needed. I am uncertain of their plan at the moment, but of what I do know is that we have lost contact with the lunar energy base on the moon."

"I heard about that on the news," Kyle contended.

"I was hoping that you two would be willing to investigate it," the Martian swivelled around on chair, back to face the Lanterns, "something's going on there and we've lost both audio and visual contact."

"Certainly," Kyle responded.

The Martian broke character for a second, releasing a small sigh of relief, an expulsion of air that saw the slumping of his shoulders; something nagging him for the longest time had been dropped in an instant, "Excellent," his head lowered on an angle, pulling his chin towards his right shoulder, "It took me some time to weigh in the possibilities but I believe this threat to be real. When I realized this, I believed it necessary to restrict myself to this room…I'm the only thing that's stopping whoever this is from taking over…I can't leave," he looked back to his shaking his head in dissatisfaction.

"You've gathered some concern from the other league members," Kyle relented with a concern of his own, "we ran into Thunder on the way up here. I know she's logged a lot of time up here, but I doubt she's even seen you in over a week."

"There is more at work in this world than just this situation," the Martian leered off into a moment of silence, letting his line sink in to their heads to the point of clarity, "this one just happens to be the most pressing."

"And you've called us to deal with the situation," Kyle sharply stated.

"Your abilities of course are best suited for space travel without mechanized equipment," the Martian contended, "then…neither you nor your ward have been involved in League activities as of recent and thus are unlikely to have been targeted for control."

"How are we going to prevent them?" Iota drew attention to himself with the simple question, clasping hands together humbly like prayer just underneath his chin, spacing a look in intervals to both Kyle and the Martian, "I mean, they're telepaths…won't they know that we're coming if they're on the moon or something?"

"Precisely why I must ask permission to enter your minds more thoroughly," the Martian rose up to his feet, flapping away the cape with his clawing hands, "I must psychically bond with each of you. I will place a block within, one that no telepath I am aware of should be able to break so long as I am willing and conscious."

Iota reviled back in shock, eyes widening along with the spacing of his hands out from his sides as though ready to fight back the talons of the Martian. He was however more surprised to find that Kyle was taken into the notion so quickly. "Alright," the elder Lantern chimed in with a grunt of support. He turned about face, taking in long spaced out strides towards the pile up of chairs that took up the centre section, "let's get this done with." With a slight press against the chair top, the nearest chair swivelled around on its pole to face him while in one smooth motion stomping down into it with unusual force, soon crumpling his hands underneath the seat itself to further cement his seated position.

"What?" Iota spat out is obvious disproval, tossing out his hands as he did so. The Martian stepped alongside him, slowly making his way towards the seated Kyle with the slightest of rustling of his luxurious cape.

"Deryck," Kyle called to him, "think of it this way…would you rather have someone you know rummage through your head to save you or some complete stranger to take over you?"

"I don't know him," Iota's words stumbled out with powerful shots to the beginning of each, the back of his hands slamming through the air with distilled anger.

"Your only other alternative is to stay here, in this room," Kyle further contended, "you already know too much about what's going on and the last thing we need right now is someone of your power set destroying the station under someone's command," het let out a toned down sigh, "besides, this isn't the first time I've had this done."

"There are no time for arguments," the Martian laid his hands along Kyle's head, the arching fingers deepening into the skin just short of puncturing it. Deryck cringed at Kyle's reaction, the man clenching down his teeth with eyes solidly shut, blocking out whatever pain he was experience; it had only be a few seconds, but for Deryck it like a good couple of minutes before the Martian retracted his hands.

"Ouch," Kyle grunted with a jittery rotated movement of his head. His jaws limped away from one another with the widening of the eye slots in his mask, giving clarity to the milky green within. "That one felt weird…I think I remember my fifteenth birthday." He humbly rose up back onto his feet, throwing back an arm to clutch his lower back as he arched over; it was as though he had not walked in sometime and was now just begging to acquire knowledge of the ability.

"Why would I ever want to go through that?" Iota questioned with softened words.

"Deryck," Kyle nodded with a stretch upward of his entire form, letting loose a growl with the crackling of his arms in connection to his torso, "we don't have a whole lot of time right now I think…."

"Alright, alright," Iota briskly confided his hesitant approval before falling down into a quiet muttering under his breath, "what' the worst that could happen?" He squeamishly inched his way towards the chair recently vacated by Kyle, crossing a look to the older Lantern whom had stepped away to watch from a distance. The Martian just stood there with one shoulder angled towards him, eyes nonetheless beading down into his, seemingly waving him over to the chair as though he intended to be the boy's barber but this time amped to give him more than just a trim. Even through his uniform he felt there to be the coldest of feelings running about his body upon impact with the chair, the kind of coldness that compelled him stay awake and upright, pressuring his body into the hardest form that his natural being could maintain. Any notion of being strong however quickly faded when the Martian's hands touched along the crown of his head, thumbs nearly embedding themselves within his temples. It was in the moment of touching he wished he could prop us his emerald shield but lost focus over such a concept in a near instant when lights of the of the brightly lit room rapidly decreased in value, tossing his consciousness into darkness from which the startling memories of his past life zipped by him at a million miles per second. Lost he was in the myriad of unevenly coloured stars which he momentarily desired to be an explorer of. He was no longer in the room, he was somewhere beyond that and it was calling to him, subconsciously tell him to forget the pulls of the earthly form. Every attempt to touch upon the passing stars proved to be a blunder, his arms reaching out for the orbs of light but proved unable to grasp its power. He knew not the images that lay within the darting balls of light, only that they be memories, thoughts, ideas, concepts that were intimately entwined with an imagination he thought to be faulty when bringing forth his ring constructions. It was a chance to cycle through the times he had lost as a child, perhaps come across some beauty in his near rotten experience of living, but every attempt to do so fluttered away into distance, taunting him and fuelling the decline into disappointment over one's life served; searching and clasping upon any memory would have surely affirm his failure as a person and upon this decision, he was firmly satisfied in crossing his arms and waiting patiently for the trip to end.

His lips began to open, ready to speak as one image stood out upon the stars, pulling itself through the darkness to come to the forefront; the orange skinned girl from another world, her pointed ears and flashy blonde hair just being so terribly perfect in his mind's eye. She was all too ready to smile when the moment of time passed by, the light of the room returning.

"Why…what…?" Deryck let out a heavy gasp with the questions being more of an afterthought. He was back in the computer hub room, looking up into the red eyes of the towering Martian, the elder Lantern Kyle not too close beside him. He looked from side to side with some quick patterned breaths, "are we good?" he wince his eyes, creating a curvature of wrinkles along his forehead just above his nose.

"Yes…" The Martian's slippery voice came through, though in an awkward fashion as he appeared to be confused, as though uncertain as to his own abilities. He stepped away from the boy, each successive step becoming weaker though keeping his strong eyes within Iota's. "There is not much time, the moon shall pass by in under two hours," his head shot around to Kyle, "I must warn you once more…the block will only be in effect so long as I am conscious also," Kyle nodded in understanding, "I shall stay here then, in this room, till you have returned and find this telepathic entity on the station whomever they may be."

* * *

"This is kind of interesting," Iota hovered around the surface of the moon, more specifically, taking to a several foot distance above the flat laying panels that comprised the solar panel belt that lay across the moon's surface, "I remember when this was being built…" he smirked, "could see the darkness creep across in a clear line. Still kind doesn't prevent the shine," His head raised up, joining upright with the full straightness of his body, "doesn't seem all that amazing now that I can fly here in less than ten minutes."

"Your day has just been full of disappointments," Kyle responded with obvious sarcasm to his line. He came to the side of the strips, nearly coming to touch the ground there with body facing towards the waist high black beams that kept the reflectors poised in the proper direction so as to the maximum amount of solar energy. He placed his hands to his waist and grunted as he always did when something occurred to him, "lot of foot prints here…this could have been where they were when they disappeared," he finished off his sentence as he looked up over head, catching eyes with the highly hovering Iota whom kept his arms tightly bound across his chest.

"Do we really have a plan or anything?" Iota prodded.

"I assume that Manhunter intends to let the controls slide for bit, give an opportunity for this hidden telepath to attempt a takeover, then act accordingly," he squatted down, bending out his knees widely, bringing his focus down to the level that matched his head to the half circle tops of the beams, seeing the dispersal of light between the panel tops against the true power packs, the flat laid bars planted within the earth's surface.

"I was just thinking," Iota clutched harder to his body, looking away into the distance of the moon's grounds, "that maybe this guy would try to attack the Martian in that little room of his, I mean how dumb could a telepath be? The guy would have figured out what's stopping him by now right?"

"Well, I guess we're just going to hope that he doesn't get found out," Kyle dropped his right knee down, still not allowing for his form to touch the surface, while hovering his way closely to the nearest beam, right hand poised upwards in preparation to grab hold of it.

"And you know, I was also just thinking," Iota pulled his left arm from his chest, angling upwards to place the hand upon his head, mixing the shield of emerald energies in those areas together, "why couldn't he just, I don't know...place these mental blocks in everyone?"

"He's a powerful being," Kyle's hand came to firmly grasp the beam, his thumb and fingers slip around its sharp sides. In a steady motion he began to slide down its glassy surface, "but not powerful enough to hold that kind of touch. Believe it or not, he was hiding his pain quite well when he did this to us…it's a strain to keep his mind in touch with us, especially from this distance."

"You mean he's in our minds right now?" Iota questioned with absolute shock riveting through his body.

"Yes, yes," Kyle chuckled a little under his breath, "but don't worry, he's an honourable guy…besides, there's not a whole lot you could have hidden from him anyway," he angled his head towards one shoulder, bringing his face in closer to the beam, "ring, could you activate this panel for me?"

"Yeah, nothing," Iota mumbled under his breath. He looked up to the stars embedded within the pitch black sky, unable to imagine that the unfathomable distance between here and the nearest inhabited planet was being shrunken down to a simple power ring flight. Space travel into other realms had often been restricted to those of superhuman abilities, those people whom had connections with beings across the universe, but for someone so bound to the pull of the earth, this ease in travel was nothing but a dream though not the kind shared across humanity. It was only a few months ago that he was among the many that placed superiority in the human race for sole dominance of the planet, that the human empire was rising and everything within this solar system was restricted to their hands only. Alien life was to be limited down to only that of extreme cases and scenarios in which they had something to offer the planet; they all remember Superman, but when he left, kids like him only recognized the cold realities of Lex Luthor's teachings about dominate gods from foreign worlds.

"The universe is getting smaller don't you think," Iota raised up his ring hand, analyzing the backside where the ring glowed, its power being the sole thing keeping him alive in the vacuum of space, "at the speed I fly, I could be halfway across the solar system in a half hour." Kyle kept his lips tightly bound, nodding his head affirmatively show he was listening intently, "I don't know much about the Green Lantern Corp… and if there's three of us here on earth, well, there must be a lot more everywhere else right?"

"I've heard a lot of strange opinions over the years from other members," Kyle responded with a brief casual look back up to Iota, "there may be a lot of us, but the universe is a big place…we've been wise thus far to keep it as limited as possible. The Guardians are doing their best to keep this universe safe," he sighed, "we're not trying to build a police state, Deryck."

"Yeah, so Superman's dilemma is proven true," Iota smirked, "only the Lanterns have taken to every street corner…and there are certainly no drug dealers where they stand on guard."

"This is strange," Kyle rose up to his feet suddenly, still maintaining the double inch rise up from the solidity of the moon's surface, "according to my ring the panels are running at peak efficiency but the powers being diverted elsewhere…."

Iota looked over to his shoulder, following along the panel line to where it cut off into the band lands, the region of the moon most notorious for its monumental craters and half hazard cliff rises where the builders and workers of the solar belt thought best not to level, "guess we follow the foot prints," his eyes squinted together, following the line of the grated boots marks that were doomed never to be disturbed so long as other beings stood away from them. "Looks like they come to an end near that canyon." Iota lowered his body to be flat upon his stomach in the air, leaping into a soar in that direction. Kyle arched his head, watching as the bright wisps of emerald particles trailed in behind the young Lantern before working up the will to follow.

The spaced out cliff sides made for a canyon that stretched down several metres and about three metres across at the farthest ledge leading into the massively wide, yet certain not any more than two feet in depth, crater ahead of the rock mounds that circled its perimeter. Iota followed along the crack line, the thick dark zigzagging trail that deepened into the crevice that became the canyon. "Oh…" he curved back his throat with the lowering of his chin. His eyes had fallen upon the interior; most rubble packed down several metres ahead on a steady slope, the tougher more durable rocks having slid ahead to compact a base for which the smaller one fluttered upon, but this however was not of primary interest to his mind, indeed the glint of silvery metal just beyond was truly questionable, its tastes being something completely unexpected. "There's some sort of path way down here," Iota crouched down over the edge, leaning over so slightly to get a clean view within.

"The Lunar Power base camp doesn't stretch out this far," Kyle soon arrived at the other side of the small canyon like hole; letting his feet solidly hit the moon's floor for the first time. He briskly raised his clenched fist, ring upon his finger, dutifully aimed into the cave with a shining ray of green light taking into the interior, scrawling along the jagged breaks of the rock to get inside. He slipped his tongue around the insides of his teeth, deep thoughts running through him as the knowledge the ring came to note became quite strangely clear, "the energy of the solar panels…its being retransmitted down there." He hobbled his feet over the ledge about halfway before taking to a slow plummet down, modulating the flight power of his ring to counteract against the light pull of the moon.

"What have you got?" Iota jumped in after him, slipping a hand up against the cliff side, dragging down the dirt with him as he fell. Along the descent, he realized that the reason for him being able to see the base floor was a lowly toned blue light, a spread of thinly laced energy that fell into a rectangular enclosing. They were everywhere, this vertically laid up columns of coffins, the lights giving away their shapes as they ebbed out from the rocky walls. "What is it?" Iota called out to Kyle, the man whom was looking quite suspiciously at one of these coffin like contraptions with beady eyes and a raised palm that was all too uncertain as to whether it should touch the front face of it. A heavy thud echoed throughout the chiselled cavern, Iota having landed soundly upon the top of the contraption Kyle was staring into, "well?" the sheer sarcastic tone of his voice dropped steeply as he, like Kyle, had become shocked at what he saw. The emplacement ahead of him, facing Kyle's backside was aglow with the light blue colour, there to reveal that these were in fact not coffins, but pods, each one occupied by a tall white humanoid figures, each of which possessing a series of three stretching peaks behind their heads and hands shapely formed into curving claws. "Well, I guess the Martian was right," he gulped as he looked down the long pathway, seeing the lights all the way aglow with the illustrious blue for what seemed like a mile.

Kyle took one step forward towards the pod ahead, looking deeply at the White Martian soundly asleep, standing upright. A simple tap of his hand on the top bow out glass top of the pod and a shock of untold proportions spiralled down his spine, nearly lifting him up from his feet. Those eyes, those horrible fearsome eyes, had opened, "We've got trouble."


	31. Interval 8 Part 2

Interval #8  
Volume 1. Story 6.  
The Ripples of Time (Part 2)

* * *

"You will connect," a thickly distorted monotone bellowed out a command, reaching up from the lowest depths of the lungs.

"You will connect," the command was spoken once more though this time from the mouth of another person. Indeed, whenever a sentence had begun by one of these beings it would happen that another one would commandeer it and continue onward till a decisive conclusion was reached. The multitude of speakers were speedsters from the future, the thirtieth century to be exact, travelling back through time to the twenty-first century in order to obtain one of the speedsters living there; Interval, the young oft secretive superhero whom also travelled back through time to be here, his native era being nearer to the twenty-eighth.

"Fully reconnect into the Speed Force?" Interval angrily snapped off with a question, looking around to the multitude of rival speedsters that begun to encircle him. The young speedster wore the scarlet colour of the Flash family boldly in his shin high boots, stunted tight gloves that meagrely reached beyond his wrists, cowl piece, as well as a body encompassing triangular patch that wrapped around his shoulders and aimed down to a blunted flat point near his waist where it then broke down and divided in to a thin lightning bolt chain design that rode over top of his upper leg joints and around like a belt. The rest of the uniform held to a straight black that blended quite well with the scarlet; however despite the concern that his so called mentors had over such a gritty redefinition of the typical Flash costume, the boy was allowed to wear the oft considered essential feature of the Flash, that being the stylized logo on the centre of his chest; a circle of white within a black boundary with a thick shocking yellow bolt of lightning striking through from one side to another. Further Flash related accruements included the silvery circular pieces that were most notable for the small yellow metal bolts flaring out in their magical style to the back of his head just over an inch. To cap off such an arrangement were the goggle pieces, tinted a light yellow, giving apt protection to his vision. "Can you even conceive the possibilities of what could happen if I do?" he stepped into a tone of voice that mirrored that of his current enemies though hitting upon a lighter cord given his more humanized character, at least by comparison.

The Hyperguard's were appropriately labelled as robustly muscle bound, their connection to the Speed Force being the primary force for making them this way, producing a muscle spread nearly a foot in width and adequately bulged to fit that span in their limbs alone. It was not difficult however to determine that this connection was weak, the use of their powers taking a visible toll upon their bodies; globules of sweat, jittery limbs and the like being the characteristic of each one of them though they did well to hide their weaknesses behind an straight faced glare. Their connection could not have been real, not in the same way that its essence touched upon The Flash and Interval.

The most striking aspect of their physical beings was the crude adaptation of the Flash costume, wearing something that bordered upon being a pastiche Interval in its gritty flavouring, patterned in cleanly cut scarlet and black. The entirety of their chests was covered in a rubbery thick black shirt, cut straight down from the shoulder tops to the armpits while continuing upwards of their necks stopping just short of jaw line. Their belts, if they could be called so, was a polished gold metal that appeared to aim for the shaping of a chain of lightning around their waist, the end result however being a single spike, a 'V', that rose up from the centre with significantly high deviation from the overall circular form. Wrapped around their forearms and just down below their knees were inch thick rings tightly bound together creating somewhat of a protective sheen. The rings overtop of their shins stretched down to their feet where they created boots that looked to be two times the size of their natural feet while at the wrists the rings cut off to their flesh allowing freedom to their thick fingers. The golden metal of the belt was a shared characteristic with other parts of the ensemble, most notably present as the thick sole of their boots, the oval caps that shaped to their knees, the strip of thin lightning at the beginning of the ring chained gauntlets, and most noticeably of all, on their full scarlet red cowls, two curving pieces of the gold that nearly touched at the top of the nose before bending outwards on a curvature well above their eyes before falling back down along the sides of their faces to oncee again nearly meet underneath the nose. The more typical Flash centred items were well founded on them, albeit with quirks unto their own; the stylized thick yellow bolt within a circle of white was well embedded in a chain belt similar to the gauntlet and boots, cradling down from the top of one of their shoulders down to the opposing side. Over top of their ears were circular silver caps with the necessary golden metal lightning bolts that were exceptionally longer and exceptionally thicker than that of either Interval's or The Flash's. Proving to be the most difficult aspect of them was indeed the scarlet red that fell upon their upper arms and leggings, the colour being the only noticeable blur when they moved; easily being mistaken by the Keystone city's civilians for the hero that they modelled themselves after, at least in fashion sense.

The Hyperguard had invaded the West home, they knew full who lived here and did not show any restraint in using this fact to their dominating advantage. A number of them were standing upon the front balcony of the home, flexing out their muscles while keeping their beady eyes upon Interval, their desired target for this forced connection. The house was moderately long but made well in depth along the shorter sides. The entirety of the first floor's front wall was pushed back by about a metre and a half to produce cumbersome porch that sat calmly underneath a straight lined overhanging roof as supported by a number of solid wood pillars. The only deviation from an otherwise flat face was the pushed out extension to one side of the house which carried within it the large living room window that ran across nearly two metres and just snugly fit within the confines of the first floor. The extension hedged out about two feet, its sides diagonally slanting inward of each other for the majority of that distance before cutting off flat with the window, thusly creating a trapezoid like shape. Atop of the living room, and thus continuing in line with the extension, was a rectangular shaped balcony with a solid wooden fence that was about stomach high. Two pillars sat atop the balcony's fence, one to each outer corner, carrying on their backs a triangular pointed top that slid back against the full body roof of the house, holding the same triangular shape only that the centre line ran along its broadside. An assortment of other blocky windows continued onward to the other side, nearly all equally lined with one another no doubt showcasing the more personal rooms though for the moment, the curtain had been drawn. The home was painted a lukewarm kind of brown save for the wood of the porch's pillars, the window trims, the front door and its accompanying frame, and the three step stairwell that led up to the centre of the house towards the door, all of which painted a burnt auburn. It was at times like these that West's were content with living so far away from the inner city or any of their neighbours, the area surrounding the house being a field of grass with an assortment of trees on either side blocking view of the neighbours whom most likely enjoyed the same kind of privacy they had.

There were dozens of them, the expanding numbers being all too much for Interval to get a firm grasp of, all he knew was that they intended to capture him, standing shoulder to shoulder in a tight fitting circle with himself in the middle, poised to run as was his nature but with nowhere to go. For reasons he had not figured out yet, the Hyperguard had once existed in the far distant future before actions in the past saw their removal from the time stream, it was only by the grace of their weak connection to the Speed Force that kept them in existence this long and that was looking to fail in the near future.

"Our time line has been lost," a bellowing voice from one of the Hyperguard instinctively made Interval search around for the speaker, arms flailing around with the swivelling of his head, eyes wide open and focused.

"We will not be lost," a voice from the other side of the circle further founded the point that whenever he caught on to the speaker, his location would be off within the next second when the next portion of the sentence continued.

"The city of Keystone will be invalidated," Interval let out a sigh, letting the surround sound of random yet all too similar voices hit him, "if you fail to comply."

"You mean destroyed," Interval spat out with hefty dose of scorn. In a sudden act, every other Hyperguard surrounding him stepped forward, shortening the circle down to a proximity that was less than a metre from reaching him, the ones left in behind quickly being joined by others amongst the masses, filling in the vacated spots with ease. Interval was soon caught up in the look of their emotionless eyes, the oval shaped slots in their cowls being just large enough to fit the entirety of their eye sockets; it was only the variation in colour that separated the hulking men from one another. "It was a complete accident that I fused with the Speed Force [INT #2]," Interval fumbled through his increasingly heavy breaths, "listen to me, please." The struggle to gain attention soon took a nose dive for he was now faced with the restriction of his body; two of the Hyperguards had taken him by surprise, shoving their muscle bound limbs underneath his arms and dragging them out into the cracking arch of their elbows. "You don't know what you're doing," Interval continued to caution with a voice that verged on shouting, the tug and pull against his arms intensifying a growing fear he refused to acknowledge. He stomped his feet down hard into the small red cobblestones of the pathway but failed to get any traction when they pulled him back towards the house, the circle of men dividing in the necessary sections to let him through, "If I am to be reabsorbed in the Speed Force," he shook head in a negative manner, "I won't be able to handle. The Speed Force in its entirety will collapse…everyone and anyone who's ever been connected to it will die. Please listen to me...!"

"The treadmill is prepared…" for the first time, the young speedster had found the speaker just as his lips let loose those words. He was at the forefront of the collective, a step ahead of the inner rung of the circle's curve directly ahead of him. He was standing there like all the others, so empty in his vision yet all that more intimidating as a result.

The potential for salvation had arose in these sparse moments of conflicting stares; beyond the masses of Hyperguards, Interval caught upon a flurry of black and red crossing from the left side to the right in his line of vision, the blurs of a humanoid in speeds excessing the comprehension of the normal persons eyes. This blur crossing along the road line was not unlike the Hyperguard in look, but there was a difference that separated it from them; it was much more slender figure. Interval could breathe a sigh of relief; The Flash had arrived.

Like Her predecessors, The Flash maintained the distinctive colours and costume apparel of her predecessors though she took some liberties to the overall design, adding some personal touches while never seeking to change entirely what had clearly become an iconic and respected suit throughout the twin cities; a scarlet red body suit, a bulky black belt with a very well shined golden buckle haphazardly sitting loosely around her waist, shin high clean yellow boots that moulded tightly to her feet in their blocky fashion, gloves that stretched more so on the outside of her arms than the inside thus creating a flair of triangular pointed barbs on the movement of her elbows, and rising up from the coverage of her neck, a face piece that rode up along the sides of her cheeks before crossing over the breadth of her forehead and the tip of her nose, protecting the oval shaped eye slots with bubbling goggles tinted just enough to prevent a visual find of her eyes. Of the more personal touches to her costume was the black leather like jacket she was seldom seen without wearing. A throwback item from the nineties, she rather enjoyed the comfort of its tightness around the arms while keeping the four buckles that would come to surround her stomach open and free so as to allow the most important part of the Flash costume to be noticeable; the strike of thick yellow lightning across the chest. Her hair was a flamboyant red, long and luxurious no less when fully unwound but for now was tightly pulled together to a bulb at the back of her head, flowing freely only in the later sections like a tail; its movements while in top speed certainly did not go unnoticed. She was young looking, somewhere stuck in her early twenties, but experience with her abilities was not like those before, those predecessors before her having developed their powers later in life, no, she had been born with hers and trained every waking moment for this role though it were times like these that she'd wish her father, the former Flash Wally, was still alive and fighting alongside her.

The Hyperguards appeared unaware of The Flash's presence for the moment, their eyes, unlike Intervals, being unable to keep up with the sporadic movements of her body as she gathered steam on the outskirts of the collection of similarly dressed and powered enemies to come to a lingering stop on Interval's left side, letting the steam of a near frictionless glide take her around his backside. While in the process of her dash her arms swivelled out from the normal dashing moments, flipping up the face of her palms which she steadily moved into circular loops, quicker and quicker till the movement of her arms in such a strange pattern out sped the movement of her feet. It was an interesting gift of hers, an ability she was the first and only one so far to have manifested and as such was often left to her own understanding when trying to master its energy; while her father possessed the ability to steal the speed of others, she could create bubbles of time displaced energy that did not so much as steal their speed as it locked whatever they touched in a state of suspended animation, absolutely unmoving while all else went on about its nature. Though it zapped much of her strength, dealing with so many speedsters at once required her to resort to desperate measures. Her hands began to curl inward while continuing the fast moving circular movements, forming small white orbs, not to solid in their colour rather just the right amount of light to make it recognizable, the most attracting element to them being the swivelling cords of razor thin lightning bolts that cascaded around their curved tops and flared out in their zigzagging fashion around her hands and trailing up her arms puffing up the jacket's sleeves.

Interval turned his chin to his left side and planted it on the edge of his shoulder, looking quick enough to get just a snippet of his supposed mentor just when she was entering her slide in behind him. She muscled up her arms and tossed out the orbs from her hands, breaking off her stride to turn on a dime, now standing with her back to the front of the house with Interval directly ahead of her. It was a stumbling stop, nearly tossing her head over heels, but with balancing returning, she raised her head upright slower than normal, eyes transfixed upon the targets she had in mind, intrigued by what would happen when the force of her time displacing orbs connected. To Interval's backside were the lesser bunches of Hyperguards, a perfect access way that the orbs could travel through unhampered, heading on through the near four metre march to collide with the hulking men holding him. The balls whipped out like curve balls, bowing outwards before reasserting themselves on a straight path leaving spindly trails of lightning in their wake, on a course with the two soldiers holding down Interval in their arms. The splattering energy upon their backside was silent, the orbs breaking down into flattening clear ooze upon the muscular surface of their backs before completely disintegrating from existence. The impression of the orbs' collision on their backs left a circle of solid white that bristled around its edge the rigid tangents of lightning that over the course of seconds grew to be more vibrant in their whipping nature. It was not long till the sourced tossed out these volts of energy like tendrils that soon fashioned themselves around their bodies, its sheer strength contorting the body from its desired movements, ripping back their arm strength as the encapsulating force of lightning build almost a glass shield around them restricting movement to the tiniest of fractions.

Interval hurriedly snapped his arms free from their grasp, the strength of his tormentors having long since rescinded though not to an effect that pleased The Flash whom had suddenly gasped in horror, holding up a breath that expanded her ribcage an inch ahead from comfort ensuring that the pain was both mentally and physically hitting her. Interval turned around to face the two Hyperguards in the wrappings of The Flash's time displacing energy, the effects of which stunned him but nonetheless intrigued him to the point of morbid curiosity. At first, the two Hyperguards were deprived of their super speed, an unrecognizable loss on the visual scale but one that the two men must have felt for their teeth gnashed together along the with the dilation of their pupils. Soon their cheeks bound inwards of their mouths, tightening along the ridges of their teeth, while their eyes became incredibly sullen as though the skin around had been pulled away to reveal the full scope of the eyeball, though even this was shrinking back into their sockets becoming an obscure item in their craniums. Their hands became thin and limp, the muscular sausage like appendages having begun a steady process of dehydration, the skin tightening down to reveal the bones that comprised them as wells the blood vessels which now appeared plump despite no longer transmitting their nutrients. They dropped to their knees almost simultaneous with one another, their hands wishing to reach up to their heads but never quite finding the strength to do so. Their eyes were now gone, their teeth decayed to yellow, and their skin charred to the deepest depths of black; they were dead within seconds, rapidly aged beyond possible organic function without so much as a scream. The smooth slump to the ground shared the brittleness of their skin sacs, the bones within crushing upon the cobblestones at the most strangest of angles, the seeping white bones puncturing through the skin with their broken points. When Interval looked up he saw The Flash standing there at the end of the path, a single step away from the stairs leading up to her home, looking like anything but the hero she sought out to be, faced now with unintended consequences of her actions, taking away all those years of experience and training to remind her of her short comings as a super hero.

"Come on," Interval bolted over to The Flash, clasping his hands around her wrists, lightly throttling her back into consciousness, "we have to get out of here now!" he continued to shout but gathered minimal response from her, just random blinks with sad attempts to breathe.

"I didn't…I didn't mean too…" The Flash attempted to voice her side of action but couldn't quite bring out the words she desired. She looked prepared to run off as far as she could, head jittering around ever so slightly with the unbearable thrusts forward, throttling back and forth, never being able to hold still, "what happened?" she weakly questioned with a slight turn down to her younger colleague, "I didn't…did I?"

"We have to go," Interval looked over his shoulder, seeing to the eyes of the Hyperguards looking down upon them, recognizing them to be anything but shocked, still emotionless as ever and more than willing to continue on in their mission regardless of this oddly placed setback. "Iris, please," Interval rose up to her ear, whispering his plea, "sync into my speed…I'll get us out of here." And with that, the youth took hold of his mentor by her right hand and darted off to the left, using the breakage in the line that the Flash had caused when she first arrived. The Flash was now being dragged in behind, almost flying with her right firmly embedded in Intervals, bringing her forward for just a bit as the long strides brought his arms in sync with his feet. He made headway to the dense forested region thus leaving the Hyperguards to brood over their apparent failure to contain them, not that they looked to worried. The hulking mass of men was now reaching upon the fifty mark, all simultaneously turning to catch a glimpse of the flurry of lights and pattering foot sounds that Interval made, "They won't follow us," he looked over his shoulder slightly to see The Flash, the hero not being all there, "they'll need to conserve their strength if they want to level the city."

"I killed them."

* * *

Within a minute of high tailing it away from their civilian based residence, Interval, with The Flash syncing in with his speed, had traversed out from the farmlands, through the clean roads and on through the high strung glass and steel buildings of the inner city. Everywhere he went, not a single civilian was in sight, all having been picked up by the multitude of Hyperguards and carried away, the menacing speedsters at least having the decency to return them safely to their homes, granted so long as they didn't attempt to leave as what was the case for one poor individual in particularly whom while attempting to confront The Flash on his front lawn was instead smothered to death with a rattling arm shake of a Hyperguard through the chest with super speed. He was soon within the out skirting regions where the policies of cleanliness and energy efficient constructs had long been ignored by city planners. Though crime was often associated with this region as a festering ground for those who follow its ilk, there was someone here, a recent friend of Interval's, whom became well revered by the boy for his delicate steps between good and evil but more often than not stepping into the former even at the expense of his personal livelihood, a characteristic the young speedster neither understood nor desired as a part of his nature…though it was this aspect among others that drew him to this friend.

Interval slowed down his strides along the breadth of a particularly wide alleyway. The two three story buildings that built up it sides were perfectly squared with one another as though a single building had a significant section cut out from it. He carefully distanced The Flash from her hovering orbit around him that resulted from their syncing speeds, nimbly reaching around his left hand for hers in hopes of steadying her, bringing her back down to the ground and standing upon her own feet. She showed there to great difficulty in holding still; leaning forward slightly with a slight rocking motion to her feet, head bowed lowly with a whimpering tremble best accentuated through the trail of her red hair, angrily anticipating the release of her hands so they could be wrapped around the sides of her head to cradle the creeping emotional spectrum of shame and disappointment. "It's going to be OK," Interval affirmed with a nod that went off ignored, "alright?" his tight grip soften from her weakly fitting palms, intently working on gaining a hold of her eyes, imagining the tight soft round baby green of her irises, but failed to get so much as to get a glint.

At their backside, crossing along gaping entrance way of the alley about back from the buildings' out wall was a thin metal wire that more than certainly stretched out as far as them for it protected a massive plot of land primarily composed of crumbling small stones and pebbles littered within shady grey dirt mounds. Interval recognized it well; the old railway station that had since lost its purpose when the Atrac with its magnetized power rendered the classic styled trains obsolete. The walls of the alleyway were built up with solid stone which were most probably flat and smooth up until the coat of paint was added; the white coat it wore was rather rigid and bumpy but still quite distilled to the face of the wall. The cement of the floor was not exactly an ideal running surface, it was a weak tar like composition, most likely having started out as being dark and straight edged but today it profoundly shared the suffering it experienced at the hands of the weather, eroding its form with crooking wetness of its rain, breaking its once pristine sheen and splitting its materials into little viewable chunk which were all the more noticeable along the walls where a gap between the two was steadily forming.

Interval stepped forward into the alley several metres, leaving The Flash at the centre of the alley's opening still muzzling her hands around the corner of her forehead. He crossed over to the wall on his left side, reaching the palm of his nearest hand onto the wall and gently moving along as he continued to walk in forward creating a rather bitter sound from the leather like materials of his gloves conflicting with the coarse strength of the wall. He came to an abrupt stop about eight metres down the way, not to significant a distance considering the full length of the alleyway, where he turned about face to the wall, looking upwards to the edge of its roof as he turned his body to face the wall, pressing his other hand against it to ensure a puzzling discovery. Satisfied with his position, he stepped back a few paces, lowering his line of vision to about the cut off line of the first floor leading into the second, "John Thermos," he spoke up, "I need your help."

A portion of the wall ahead of Interval suddenly began to shift in its perspective view, flashy static laced lines crisscrossing along its surface tightly constricted to an upright rectangular box about the size of an average door. This space had deviated away from the feel of the wall, being flat and glassy rather than coarsely cutting to the touch; it was a hologram that ran seamlessly with the wall, not real, just an image that was simply ignored by all whom passed it as just another part of the larger picture. The static fill shakes of the image quickly gave way to the plates of steel underneath, two of them smashed together and only recognized as separate entities for the deepening thick black vertical line at the centre. With the slapping of multiple metal rungs and the churning of gears, the foot thick plates separated, smoothly, sliding behind the walls and well out of view. "Come on," Interval looked back to the Flash, making eye contact to assure safety of the strange room beyond the wall.

Immediately through the entrance way was a walkway, a long strip of black rubber coated metal about a metre and a half across and stretching forth its longer broadsides nearly the full length of the room. The room had in its collection of three circular booths large enough to fit cars upon their bases, each being something of a hollowed out tube or pipe with one side of its circle being cut to allow entrance from the walkway with one step up. Additionally, each shared a similar décor, having the curvature of their inner wall strongly painted white without so much as a dimple while the floor maintained a thick coat of orange paint that verged on being as rubbery as the walkway's mat.

The booth at the end of the walkway was rather clean, holding along its wall a single white varnished steel door that was directly across from the main entrance way. The booth on the right side was nearly just as plain as the last but instead of a door it had a narrow plastic topped white table, the smaller end of its rectangular shape being shoved up against the curvature of the wall thus creating a gap in between where the corners hit. On each side of the table were two black chairs, simple constructs of metal tubes with the bare minimum of cushioning along the top half of the back rest and of course, the box one sat down upon. The most important of the booths was the one on the left, noted for being the primary computer hub. A white topped plastic table, much like the one in the booth across from it, ran near parallel to the walkway and carried on its back a flat monitor screen that embedded its sides into the curvature of the walls. The assorted keyboards, dials and touch pads with their glass tops laid on top of the table all loose like; a necessity in its owner's line of work which often required him to leave much of everything behind and move quickly. There was a rather dirty assortment of wires in various sizes and colours being pulled from behind the massive monitor, extending off the edge of the table to head down to the floor behind where they jumbled up together through a slot big enough to fit a basketball through.

The display upon the monitor screen was a source of intrigue for the entering Interval. Zoned off into small squares by way of lightly touched blue lines was a geographical map of Keystone city in its entirety, knocking in line with the Mississippi river and closing off at the top with the beginnings of Central City. The rather more greyish specks and splotches represented the innards of the city, the most densely packed region of this colouration being closely tied to the edge of the coast but not right upon it. All other things that made this city grand, the factories, homes, schools and government buildings, trailed off from this central region into a multitude of long stretching tentacles over the clean cuts of green grass with few detracting bits in between.

Slowing turning around to face the incoming speedsters was the man named John Thermos. He was a tall man with a muscle structure that well suited such an advantage over others. He had a personal preference for dark clothing, currently wearing a long knee reaching deep blue jacket that was most notable for its wide lined lapels that sharply glinted white as its plastic like fabric dictated; it was of a high quality material most impeccable for its resistance to the assortments of scrapes and cuts a fighting man was oft to face. Its trustworthy design was used again in the fashioning of his black pants and once more in the coating of his shoes. He had very short black hair, nearly shaved, a crew cut of sorts that brought the attention down to his strictly brown oval eyes. His jaw line was quite embedded into his face, causing the skin to ripple toward his bulging cheek bones making him appear very military like in his demeanour, very much fitting to his former career: NSA agent [INT#6]. When he left the service of the government, he lowered himself below the radar as best he could, taking up this home in Keystone city where he regularly used his skills on the black market, revealing classified information or building satellite control chips for any customer willing to pay. He was shrewd in his business, careful never to do too much damage to the world that he could not somehow fix on his own, guilt often being a powerful force in his decision making. At current, he was standing upon the edge of the computer booth's base, hands flexing out as short from his sides with chin raising ever so slightly when came to recognize the young woman trailing slightly in behind his new found friend.

John was not alone in this room. Standing with one foot on the walkway and the other trailing in the booth on the right was the girl whom John had raised as his own daughter, Jadelynn. She was close to Intervals age and appeared to have, at least in words exchanged with him, a backstory that mirrored his in some aspects. Her parents were agents just like John but on an ill-fated mission, failed to return. Since she was five, John had taken her on as his responsibility, caring for her and bringing her along with him when he left the governments employ. She was a person of all to average a height with glimmering black hair tied back into a bun at the back of her head with few stylish strands ebbing out from the tight pull. Her chin angled to a point of ease providing a strong base for a symmetrical outline that was best conveyed in her tear blue dotted eyes and tiny flat nose. She wore a black jumpsuit of sorts, enticing her body in a sheen of a thick silky like material, cutting short only at the outline of her wrists and the triangular pointed down from her neck line. As opposed to John stern glares, she was a bit more shocked, mouth drop and eyes staring unconvincingly at the scarlet red runners.

"I assume you've figured out who the other speedsters were [INT#7]?" John questioned with a stern brow. He was rightfully intrigued by Interval's investigations into the blurs of speed that spontaneously began to appear on his satellite imaging of the city a few hours ago. They moved as fast as jet planes but were far too small to keep a steady tracking of, "unless of course The Flash has found a way to duplicate herself," he strongly sat upon the final two words along with the arching his head to one side, swivelling around the view of Interval to get a clear view of Keystone city's resident hero.

"They call themselves the Hyperguard," Interval nodded briefly to Jadelynn, a signal that he recognized her presence here, before stepping towards John, prepared to meet him on the base of the computer booth.

Jadelynn dragged her back foot along the base top in order to achieve full solidity on the walkway. She attempt to respond to Interval's casual nod but the boy had already moved onto his debriefing with John leaving her to ponder instead the weird state of character that The Flash was in. The ends of her shoulders looked to be reaching as high as they could as though desiring to be above the low crouching of her head. Her arms were crossed just above her stomach, weakly clutched together by paling white hands, sharing no concern for the tightening of her jacket which no doubt caused discomfort with all its folding. She could not see the heroine's eyes, but she imagined them to be quite empty and distant on account of the slight trembling of her lips and the jittering shake of her entire form. They stood about three metres from one another, the first time Jadelynn had ever met so called major superhero so close. Though not the one she had grown up recognizing, the lady Flash was welcomed newcomer, at least in her eyes for she imagined her to be someone she could look up to but at the moment all she wished for was that the circumstances for their first meeting was different; The Flash looked to be in shock, completely unaware that she existed.

"Enemies of yours?" John questioned with a slight dissatisfied grin.

"Possibly," Interval stepped up into the booth, making his way to the computer desk, eyes complete transfixed upon the screen and all its intricacies, "they're wearing Flash inspired costumes…" he let out a heavy breath followed by the quick tapping of his right foot against the rubbery floor, the pupils of his eyes twitching from side to side analyzing the screen, "do you have a number?"

"I wish I could give you something concrete," John turned inward, following the path of the boy to the computer desk. He placed his right hand to his chin, tossing out his left to clasp the upper part of his right arm, "with the way they're moving I haven't been able to get a clear lock, but at best, I've gaged there to be over four-hundred to over a thousand, a small army." He shrugged with the dropping of his arms, stepping up to Intervals side, "I was worried when you didn't contact me with details but then I found there to be a void of communication feeds outside of the city. It's quite fortunate that my systems don't run on the city's central communications grid or its collection of orbiting satellites, at least…not the legal ones."

"They won't want to be interfered with by outside forces. My cowl communicator phased out of operation when the first of them began to arrive. It's likely that they've stripped my home sources," Interval responded in his monotone, "I can only assume they've done the same to everyone else in the city, save of course for the non-complacent underground sources such as this one."

"I don't believe my location is in any book or government directory," John stated.

"How are we doing on tracking their movements?" Interval crossed a look up to John.

John dropped his hand to the desk top, placing the bulk of his three longest fingers against the soft rubbery top three-centimetre sided black square pad, dragging them upwards. "With the on street camera systems down all that I've been able to use is satellite imagining and some very crude infrared that is barely reaching the surface. It's still not very accurate but at least we'll be able to recognize when one of them is moving," John tipped his eyes up to the screen, intrigued by the fluctuating spots, small black dots no thicker than a needle's head as they appeared almost at random in and around the city, escalating around their beings a set of razor thin ripples, flowing out from the central core of the spot. "This is where things have gotten a little more…interesting," John concluded with a slippery tongue, "I am afraid I don't understand what it is exactly that they're doing."

"They're building up a static wall around the city," Interval started up. The map had become subject to a multitude of black specks that signified the presence of the speedsters, the majority of them running in a thin rigid line that surrounded the city limes, stretching from one coast end to the other, bowing out on a curve inward of land to entirely hold behind it the grey splotches of concrete, building and other man made achievements that built up the city's grand form. The rigidity of the line was the result of the circular shape of the speedsters' markers, each one pulsating a small hallow like a beacon.

"They're still moving," John returned with a slight hesitation to his voice, completely discontent with his lack of understanding, "but not leaving the line."

"They're just shaking up their molecular structures a tiny fraction, it's the same ability I use to pass through walls," Interval continued on the conversation while keeping his eyes upon the line, following the stopping point in the upper corner of the of the map along the coast and trailing around the line of bumpy figures as it bowed out around the city and headed back into coast, "they mentioned to me that they planned to level Keystone. From what I see here, if they move fast enough to pass through solid objects but too slow to leave the objects in their original molecular states then the buildings, people…they'll cause their inner molecular structures to rupture and explode."

"They have demands though, right?" John looked over to Interval with bafflingly wide eyes, "surely they've got something they want in return for the safety of the city?" Interval returned the looked with an unhinged glare, straight up unemotional just like the enemies he was currently up against.

"I've seen them," The Flash spoke up with a voice that verged upon breaking down into coarse dribble. Both Interval and John further turned inward of each other, looking around to their former backsides to see The Flash standing in the walkway facing the booth. She appeared to be a lot stronger than she was only a few moments before, attempting to muster up a well-rounded stare in their direction with heavy regulated breaths and hands firmly attached together across her stomach. "They were lined up over…all the roadways were blocked. There were just hundreds of them in each direction" she continued with a more lukewarm confidence as her backing, "I was chasing one of them around…they didn't once leave their position to help, just stood there. There were so many," she trailed off loosely, "who are they?" she nodded over to Interval, dropping her hands lightly down to her sides as she believed herself to get a better grasp of herself in regards to the developing situation, "where did they come from?"

"I'm sorry," Interval returned with an affirmative nod to his caretaker before moving on to see Jadelynn's soft eyes before lowering his head in some perceived shame. The monotone of his voice continued, unabashed by the gravity of emotions that hit upon those around him, "what I've brought upon this city, what I've done to your lives just by being here, I take full blame. This is my fault." Silence eclipsed the room, ongoing for a number of sickening seconds in which all looked to the boy with questions on their mind, the most prominent of which is how could this young superhero be responsible for the imminent destruction of the city and all its inhabitants?

Interval soon caught on to their looks, panning his vision across the room seeing Jadelynn weakly clasp her hands at the centre of her waist under the pressure of a heavy gulp, The Flash's head sinking once more between the towers of her shoulders with lips fighting the urge to quiver, and finally John whom continued to stand with a respectably stern face though there was little doubt in his mind that the mysterious military man was contemplating some disbelief in his statement of blame, "the Hyperguard come from an alternate timeline to our own, one that is now collapsing on itself. In the thirtieth century someone must have found a way to manually connect people to the Speed Force," his head began to sway with a slight trembling shake in his shoulders, "when past events began to change that future, their existence was somehow saved by their connection to the Speed Force," his words rung with a bit of insecurity, recognizing his own uncertainty as the words passed out. "I've studied the possibility of sort of event happening before…" he gulped with a brief lowering of his head, the swaying coming to a pause, "I've studied the possibilities of this before but I deemed it to be impossible, its simple impossible to extract a person from the Speed Force whom no longer exists." He straightened up with a final gulp, acquiring strength behind his words, "they should be locked away forever. With their time line having collapsed then their connection should have ensured it …but I must have done something while I was there," his eyes began to space out into a blank stare haphazardly aimed in John's direction, "opened up some avenue whereby they were able to leave."

"Why come here though?" Interval's shook up into focus, looking to John, the question he asked being well-founded in the others.

"I've been fully absorbed into the Speed Force before and I've managed to escape it, but I was chosen and my timeline was not adversely affected by my experiences," Interval continued, the blank stare returning, "with their timeline no longer intact the Speed Force is doing its best to amend their continued existence, it's now tearing them apart. The more that their abilities are used the greater the strain on their bodies, they can't handle a power that doesn't want them. It's been forced, the thing that kept them alive is now killing them," he briskly took a step down to the walkway, clasping a hand upon The Flash's right shoulder, drawing up her attention through the physical connection, "I'm sorry about what happened, you couldn't have known that it would have killed them." He turned around suddenly, back to John, "I don't know how but they've found me. They need me to be reabsorbed into the Speed Force if they are to survive. The last time I was there I nearly caused it to collapse. Now they want me to do it again and go all the way," his eyes wavered from side to side, "collapse it and then rebuild it with their timeline on track preserving their existence."

"What are you going to do?" Jadelynn worked up the nerve to question.

"I don't know," Interval cross his chin to his inner shoulder, looking over to her, "but time is running short. The longer they're here the closer they are to dying…I'm uncertain as to what the threshold for them is but given the state of their line and the few that I encountered on the way here, I assume that in the next few hours," he circled around, tapping eyes upon those surrounding him, "we could all be dead."

"Let's be realistic about this," John slapped his hands along his waist, flapping out the sides of his jacket, "why can't you just give them what they want?"

"I have no idea what effect their reinstating might have on the current time stream," Interval kept his back to John, lowering his head slightly, caught up in the yellow bolt that shifted its way down The Flash's chest, "when I nearly collapsed it the first time, anyone whom had ever been connected to its power was subject to nonexistence." His right hand reached up for his chin, "anyone they ever saved would be lost, and in the case of some of our elder members, such a loss would have a catastrophic effect on our current existence. This was the problem I kept experiencing with every attempt at time travel, when I nearly collapsed the time stream…" he finally turned to John, accepting his stern glare, "it's like trying to swim up a waterfall, the current of time fights against it…all could be lost in a flash."

"There's got to be something," John continued in his state of disbelief.

Interval grunted, pulling up his hand from his chin to emplace the palm within his nearest eye, circling it around a bit as though relief would be found in the pressure, "I know…I need to think…" his hand abruptly dropped from its place, his eyes closing lightly, "yes there is something I can do," he nodded affirmatively.

"No," The Flash reached a hand over top of Interval's shoulder, pulling him around to face her, "No," she reaffirmed her disapproval, shaking her head in a likewise manner, "don't even think it."

Interval turned away to the centre of the walkway, raising his right hand up into a fist and tossing it downward through the air with string of anger in his posture, "there's nothing else I can do," he snapped, "I caused this! I should be the one to go down with it…there's nothing else I can do!" he flapped his hands out to his sides, palms facing inwards of each other across his face; he shook them unmercifully down into fists before darting off for the back booth of the room, blistering passed Jadelynn on his way over, "I just need more time…."

"What is this all about?" The Flash questioned as she stepped up into the computer booth to join John in analysis of the black specks that dominated the landscape portrayed across the screen. She was certainly a lot more reserved now, calmly approach with an actual interest in what she can do to prevent the threat of destruction.

Jadelynn looked over to the back booth, the circle of white and its base of orange looked devoid of such bright connotations with the absence of a light above, shrouding the place in darkness, throwing the bulk of their shadows upon the slumping figure of Interval, the boy with his back against the left side and chin slumping lowly to his chest. His closest leg to the walkway was arched up on the knee while his other leg laid flat against the floor very much like his lifeless state of his arms, the backside of his hands curling up on the base floor. "You left my curiosity unsatisfied earlier," she stepped into the booth with a happy tone to her words. She came to sit directly across from him, cementing herself into the curve of the wall, clutching her upward pointing knees with the full spread of her crossing forearms, "what was it like?" her head slump down a bit, letting it fall at an angle with eyes blaring across to the boy, hoping that he would rise and look to her, "your home planet…what was it like?"

With a few passing seconds allotted for the question to thoroughly sink in, Interval finally raised his head, "I'm kind of busy at the moment," he began with the daze of his eyes seeping into hers. His voice was coarse and rigid, unwilling to be used but still retaining the characterized monotone, "I need to use my time efficiently if I am to think of a solution to this problem. I fail to see the benefit of memories at the moment. Whether good or bad, they factor in only to slowing me down."

"I don't know about that," Jadelynn whispered, relaxing her posture lightly following the release of a heavy breath, "sometimes all it takes is a pleasant memory to get one's creativity flowing, opens your mind up to possibilities you never would have considered."

Interval's ambiguous feelings to his past and his inherent nature were founded in a single word, "doubtful."

"Just try," Jadelynn softly continued her plea, "what was the name of your home?"

"Petrus," Interval accentuated hard upon the final syllable. "It was a dwarf planet, billions of light years away from the Earth; you could only get there by Space Bridge," he nodded unconvincingly.

"And what was it like there?" Jadelynn prodded.

"It was wondrous I suppose," Interval faltered into a voice that verged on deconstructing his carefully pronounced monotone, "it was an agricultural colony…it had the most luscious of grass humanity had ever set their eyes upon with soil so…so fertile," he paused briefly with a grunt, letting his head fall back against the wall. His eyes zoomed off into the nowhere curvature of the upper portions of the booth's walls, sifting through the memories that built up his childhood experiences, "the sky was almost always clear, two ever shinning suns, one red…one yellow," he fell down to look across at Jadelynn, "I had never experienced winter up until…" he trailed off solemnly, "It was a good home, full of life. Unlike anything you would have seen here," he nodded.

"And did you like it there?"

"Of course," Interval shot back, "it was all that I knew. I was too young on Earth to remember anything outside of vague details and what I read about it," Interval contended with a hushed sigh at its end, "There were days when we would come close to the major asteroid belt that crossed throughout the solar system, its multitude of stones just sitting there overhead, limitless in all directions."

"That's so schway," Jadelynn smirked.

"Yeah," Interval began to chuckle lightly.

"That's kind of weird," Jadelynn stumbled in response, "I never thought I'd get to see you smile," she became more so cordial than before, letting her knees dip down to become cross legged, hands pressed down at her centre, "you miss it don't you?" she suddenly became dry.

Interval closed his lips, the small smirk being retained. He nodded with the yes, "I don't belong here…I never wanted to be here," the happiness quietly faded away, "I'm a man outside the boundaries of time itself, from hundreds of years in the future stuck in an era so filled with corruption, pain and suffering as its norms. A truly unpleasant form of existence," he leaned forward a bit from the wall, tossing out his right hand towards her, flat palmed, "The Flash, John, the other heroes I've encountered… they've all put the lives of others ahead of their own as though these strangers are somehow more worthy of life then themselves," he finished off with an alarming amount of pent up anger.

"That doesn't sound very…super heroic," Jadelynn's eyes winced up with an uneasiness affecting her posture.

"I didn't come here to be a superhero," Interval was quick to contend.

"Then why not go back?" Jadelynn became stern, pulling her knees back up behind the grasp of her arms. Her eyes angled downward and her lips hardened with her cheeks, "why not just go home?" she seemed to snap with a restrained volume in her pitch, not capable of reaching outside of the booth's confines.

Interval shook his head, "I can't." His breaths pulsated into the silence of his voice. The seconds were to linger onward to the point of discomfort before he spoke up of his state of being, stranded on this world in this unlikable time, "I was never satisfied with second chances…every opportunity, every chance, I took it all and tried again and again until I got what I wanted…but this last time, I never did get it."

"Does this have anything to do with that collapsing thing?" Jadelynn fell back into her softness.

"Yes," Interval responded sharply, "remember when I spoke about my powers? If I ran fast enough then I could alter the time line [INT#7]?" he came to a brief pause, waiting to get some reaction from Jadelynn, that in some way she understood his babble, "with the proper technology I can enter this place, the source of my power, the Speed Force, and traverse the time line, enter the world in any era I choose." His peaked knee suddenly began to decline from its high placing as he added hints of excitement to his words, "I thought I could use its power to save someone all while preventing a paradox, preventing something like preventing the Hyperguard from coming here."

"Your father?"

"Yes," Interval lowered his head, returning to a stern filled demeanour, "it's not something I was comfortable talking about."

"Forgive me for saying this, but you don't seem like the kind of person to take things as personal, Jadelynn beckoned with simple one word question, "what's wrong with talking about it…I'm here to listen, I'm not going to judge you for what you say."

"I didn't want to be perceived as being weak," Interval returned his head upright, "when I was brought up, my culture taught me to place my individuality before others, that the betterment of my being would be beneficial to the whole. It was this ideal that I was schooled in, what always made the most sense; everyone doing the best that they could for themselves."

"Are you guys even human in the future?"

Interval batted up an eyebrow in puzzlement, "the physiology of humanity remains relatively intact for the next six hundred years with only variable changes to their genetics, making them for the most part intolerable to many known diseases across the galaxy."

"No," Jadelynn shook her head in disappointment, "I mean, how is it that no one can feel emotionally involved with anyone else but themselves?"

"Well, we do in a roundabout sort of way I suppose," Interval stammered to get out, "I care about the Flash because I know that she is beneficial to the development of my abilities, I need her teachings to become better. It's the same case I imagine for you and John, you feel better with John around so you do whatever you can to keep John were he is."

"I understand that but to me it just sounds…It just sounds so…" Jadelynn trailed off, "cold."

"I know cold," Interval growled, "a dictator whom wants all to be subservient to his wishes. You don't make yourself better by putting down the people around you, you rise up above them."

"What is with this adversity to cold?"

"On Petrus there is no winters, no cold," Interval looked way, returning his stare to the round ceiling above, "but there was one day in which the cold finally hit us," he slapped his hand against the side of his knee and scooted around on the floor to get some more comfortable seating before leaning back against the wall, haphazardly looking across to Jadelynn, "you see, I wasn't born with my abilities…I wasn't chosen by the Speed Force to carry on the mantle of my forefathers."

"And did that hurt you?" Jadelynn snapped in with her interrupting question.

"Well, a little I suppose at the time," Interval continued, "but like I said, in my time we just sort of move forward and do the best that we can for ourselves with what we have." He paused for a brief moment, letting the memories catch up to his words, "there was this villain, Cobalt Blue and she really hated my father, my family line. It was a vendetta that stretched throughout all time. She infected me with a lethal virus," he gulped, "my father could not save me so rather than let me perish he opted to freeze the planet, strip it of all molecular movement in order to preserve me and warrant some time till he could remedy a cure. Had I not been passed over by the Speed Force then I would have simply metabolized the virus…but no, I wasn't chosen and for whatever reason my Father did not wish to see me fall nor leave all the people of Petrus locked in a frozen state he instigated upon it for my safety. He took me into the Speed Force, I know not as to why he did so, only the effects of it. I was saved and finally, I was chosen by its powers, given my abilities; however, it all came at a price. He was absorbed into it, my father, gone forever…dead."

"I don't…"Jadelynn stumbled silently in her wording, "what did you do?"

"With my new found abilities, I studied and learned all that there was to know about the Speed Force; how to phase through objects, how to change molecular movements and how to travel through time."

"Then you can travel back in time," Jadelynn blustered in quickly with a cheery attitude, "save your father…or maybe prevent the virus from infecting you."

Interval closed his eyes, raised his head slightly and slammed it back against the wall, "that was the problem," he opened back to her, "if I travel back in time and do anything to prevent my father from dying then I would never have received my powers. If I don't receive my powers than there is no me going back in time to save my father in the first place. It's a paradox." He let out a few heavy breaths, calming down the layers of disappointment and anger that clouded his thoughts, "I was told that I tried everything I could to break the paradox, creating alternate time lines and realties, pocket universes and the such, each time resulting in a failure because that's what a paradox is; unbreakable. I was always doomed to fail." He sighed, "this is why I'm here, I've been deemed a hazard to myself and others by the great grand master of speed himself," he hummed away in sarcasm, "I was told that I needed to learn some humility or something and The Flash here was just the right hero to do it…but I'd like to think that it's just penance for my crimes," he tilted his head a little with a single sway, "I broke away from the ideal of my youth, I stopped trying to better myself and instead caved into my emotions and this…this is what happened." He found there to be a bit of sadness within Jadelynn's slumping figure, her head bowing quite lowly as though shamed, "I'm sorry," he reached out a calming hand that went unheeded, "you just have to understand that I don't belong here…there's nothing I can do here for anyone but cause trouble. Your life here today is at risk because I'm here, don't you hate me?"

"I don't hate anyone," Jadelynn looked up, "I know that you didn't mean to cause any of this and that if you could stop it you would."

"Can I?" Interval whispered, "yes," he nodded. He suddenly bolted up onto his feet, looking out down the stretch of the black walkway, finding his vision to gravitate towards the brightly lit booth of computers, "my father was the one whom encased our home in ice, it was because he was there that someone like Cobalt Blue showed up there, forced him to do what he had to do." He clutched down his fingers to the palms forming fists at his side, "It was because of his own selfish wanting that this disaster arose and he was willing to give up his life to change what he had done."

"What are you talking about?" Jadelynn began to rise to her feet but before she could even straighten her knees Interval was already making headway down the rubber matted pathway towards the computer booth leaving her with a startled expression.

"John Thermos," Interval came to a stop along the walkway, lining up with the opening slot of the booth. He looked up to John and the Flash as they turned their focus away from the monitor screen to him. He spoke quickly and surely in his unemotional monotone, "I want to thank you for your company in the past few days as well as your assistance in this pressing situation," He held out his hand, diagonally aimed upwards towards John, the burly man returning the gesture with a puzzled look and the appropriate shaking.

"Would have?" John questioned, reacting back his arm, "oh…" he nodded in understanding, accepting the boy's underlying meaning.

"Jadelynn," Interval turned his attention to the girl, she coming just a few feet short of knocking into him, "thank you also for your company, I am certain we would have been good friends under better circumstance."

"What's going on?" Jadelynn questioned with shock.

"There isn't much time left," Interval narrowed his eyes into her, "I will meet with the Hyperguard and I will take them where they do not wish to go."

"Interval?" The Flash gasped. She was ready to throw her mind out at him but stumbled in getting the words through a choking mouth, tossing out spurts of coughed up syllables, her lips beginning to fall late with the sniffle of her noes; it was a sadness she could not overcome with words.

"Thank you," Interval became more sweetly tipped in his words as he looked up to The Flash, seeing through the mask and into whom she was and what she meant to him.

"You'll die." The Flash weakly stated under the heat of her breath.

"Goodbye." And with one last nod to the other persons in the room, the young speedster blistered off at high speed for the doors, vibrating his molecular structure to blend through the thick door with ease.

"What is he doing?" Jadelynn rushed up to the front of the walkway, reaching out a hand to touch for the door.

The Flash lowered her head, "goodbye."

* * *

For each successive step Interval's tread against the ground grew in power became, pressing ever more harshly against the solidity of cement sending up a strike of pain that strained from the bottom of his heels and up into the bulk of his thigh, but as the sight of abandoned vehicles, empty office buildings and various sculptures and monuments throughout Keystone city became blurred lines around him the pain softened, the smooth frictional of the Speed Force overcoming the coarse roughness of the world he ran along, enabling the speedster to travel in speeds that exceeded what could have been accomplished by one with only a physical grasp of super speed. The stretch of thin variable shaded blue lines joined the narrow scope of his environment, tracing out from a central point ahead of him and stretching back all around him. There were thousands upon thousands of these strands, growing in their touch to nearly blot out the already strongly blurred aftermaths of his surroundings; he had entered the first stepping stone into the Speed Force, a few more adjustments to his speed and he could become wrapped up in its entirety, become one with its eternal energy; that however, was just out of his range. No matter how hard he throttled himself forward he would indeed be stuck within this first state, slightly leaving the physical plane but never leaving it entirely. If he wanted to do so then he would need something more than just adequate running space, he would need to consult the use of a cosmic treadmill.

The cosmic treadmill was created by The Flash that predated Wally West, Barry Allen whom discovered the ability to time travel by accident having once succumbed to a powerful burst of super speed vibrations that resulted in him being sent into the past. Deciding to investigate this newfound ability, he constructed a special treadmill powered by cosmic rays. By running upon the tread mat he could trigger specific vibrations within himself, vibrations that he could then use to sync in with the vibrations present throughout all time. To stay within the time period all he would need to do is maintain the right vibration, and to leave just relax them. Interval, like Barry, had hypothesized that a speedster could travel through time under their own power and though they knew how to accomplish such a goal, the two of them often veered away from the notion as its control was rather imprecise; intentions to drive a decade into the future may in fact produce a hurdle over a millennium. Additionally, for the time being Interval was incapable of reaching the appropriate speed but did indeed believe that he would achieve such a speed with further development of his abilities. The cosmic treadmill had been destroyed, lost and reinvented numerous times throughout its history before Wally West decided to use his ingenuity to produce the most definitive of versions, one that his specific vibrations could latch upon it like a homing device. It was one of his final projects completed and was the least necessary for the hypothesis proposed by both Barry and Interval were manifested within Wally whom travelled seamlessly through time with near absolute precision.

Interval had exited the inner city and its high rise structures to enter a respectable region of factories and storage units, the tallest of them being no more than four stories high. There was one particular building he was focussed upon, one of the few so called science labs in the area. It was tall box of a building, stopping off on its top with a straight trim about halfway up what would have been a third floor making it somewhat of an oddity within the area if not only for its size but also for its somewhat ambiguous face. The walls of this building were nearly monolithic with their smooth flat face, built up with the strength of stone and painted over with a thick coat of pristine white paint. The only noteworthy element to its face was the vibrant red 'XS' logo emplaced in the left corner of every side. The 'X' was slightly larger than the 'S' enabling for a series of lines to extend out from the end points, the front and back having the line begin and end at the bottom points of the letter while the sides of the building had the lines connecting at the top points.

Interval slowed downed to a point of normalcy the moment he hit the cement lot that surrounded the lab. A few metres away from him on either side were five foot wide islands outcropping upwards from the lot with a different build and colour; foot high blocks of slate grey stone lined up like a walls to create the islands, protecting within it the all to precious soil which produced within its richness an assortment of green flavoured bushes and plants growing through its form and popping up through its surface. There were several islands like these ones extending in behind them and throughout the lot, following in line like rows; these were the only sign of plant life in the area, the rest of the surrounding world being much akin to the concrete jungle atmosphere, the surrounding buildings appearing as strip mall look alikes with the exception of their interior merchandise not being for sale. He looked up ahead to the front of the lab intrigued by the spacious openings on the ground floor, the four foggy glassed doors he remembered be there, two to each side of a sizable segregated pillar, having disappeared, ripped free of their tracks no doubt. He knew quite well who was responsible for this vandalism. Two of the black and scarlet clad Hyperguards showcased their robust bodies at the far edges of the door frames, firmly entrenching their hands against their waist line and flexing out those foot long muscles that made up their arms and legs.

"I'm here," Interval stepped out from the spacious paths the garden islands formed; entering into the horizontal spanning dual roadway lengths that stretched the full breadth of the building's front and continued on well beyond its sharp corner edges. He looked up to each of them as he drew closer, stopping at the centre of the building a few metres back of hitting the segregating post in-between the door frames, "I have come to do as I have been requested…recall your members and prepare to depart."

The Hyperguard to his left twitched his head, holding his head at an unusual angle with an intense emotionless stare upon the young speedster, "they have been recalled," the man responded with that strict monotone, a bellowing that reached up from the hollowness of his heart.

Interval nodded and proceeded on a path that took him towards the dual door openings on his left, drawing the continued stare of the nearby Hyperguard whom turned the entirety of his being so as to never take his eyes off of him, taking the necessary steps to follow. The immediate inside behind the openings was a sizable glass walled box with the exception of an open ceiling thusly giving full perspective of the surrounding room as being one that took full advantage of the building's spacious height. It was from inside here that the occupants could get a complete view of this front room's innards. To their right side they found there to be a variety of wall crunching steel cabinets, stomach high desks bolted against the wall with no peg support upon the floor, and flat panel computer screens that for the most part rose out vertically from the flat topped desks displaying at any time a myriad of blue coloured blue prints and design specs. The right side was always of more interest to Interval, it was the side where mechanized beasts and physiological enhancements sat usually untouched for long periods of time. It was the place where Wally was said to slave over, drawing, building and developing new ways in which to use his abilities to help others and most importantly, help himself. At the moment, the largest of the technologies he worked upon were laid scattered along the floor, those things being rather box shaped contraptions and hollowed out tubes with a series of neon blue lines running down their centres. The stomach high wall surrounding desk was filled to the brim with tools of either the sonic or physical variety along with a multitude of pistols waiting to be made serviceable. The screens above the desks had within their depth of blue building plans that more often than not displayed the items below very much like the opposing side only more so unique in their details, phasing out through the distance of space within the computer screen a series of white lines that formulated the desired object and listed underneath the many components needed for its construction.

At the centre of the back wall only a short distance away from the box was a pillar like structure that edged out from the wall a solid two feet and reached all the way up to the light panels that comprised the ceiling. It, like its surrounding walls, was of a complete white hue thus producing an illusion of sorts when one were to look at it head on, its true depth being extremely difficult to gauge in such a scenario. A solid single steel door, though stretching the size of at least two, was at the centre of this pillar, its steely colour being something of a noteworthy abstraction to the otherwise bland nature of the room. It was beyond this wall that the real work of the lab existed, a restricted area to authorized personnel only. Behind there existed a medical bay, powerful energy converters in the shape and size of a Ferris wheel, basements housing forensics, video and tracking technologies and many other machines and tools that assisted in the saving of innocent lives. It was also behind this wall that the treadmill was stored.

The Hyperguards were the first to step out from the box, making their way towards the steely door without so much as a look back to their needed saviour, fully expecting him to follow without coercion. He played along with their silent command, stepping out and towards the entrance way. With a strong hand placed upon the door, the Hyperguard pushed away, easily pulling apart the soft stick of the black rubber that cushioned the door against its corresponding frame. The foot thick door fell upon its hinges, turning inward on the right side without so much as a creak.

"You've modified the treadmill?" Interval questioned with a slight gasp. The room beyond the pillar was like gymnasium in its grasp, extending to heights and lengths that one might find unfathomable from the appearance of the building outside. The walls stood as a testament to cleanliness holding to a white hue that was without any discrepancy. It was within here that Interval remember there to be the largest of mechanized devices; plates of metal wounded up into a large wheel of which a speedster was expected to run within producing a form of energy through thermal energy. There was a multitude of other unfinished and unused projects lying around the last time he entered but this time round he found there to be only one thing that belonged; the cosmic treadmill, sitting at the centre in an otherwise mechanically empty room. Everything had been moved out, deconstructed and stored in some unknown place by the invading Hyperguard or perhaps the most likely, destroyed for the sake of simplicity.

The cosmic treadmill held the same ideal and structure that made up the common treadmill though there were certainly a lot of differences that separated this one from the run of the mill. The tread mat was about three feet across with a solid inch of metal making up its sidings. The front end was especially thick in its lower area, being something rectangular shaped box that was horizontally laid to have its broad sides face back against the map and aim out at the front. Rising up from the center of the box like a mast was a firm flatted pole, one that stretched down to nearly two inches in across and reaching upwards at least five feet, being made to fit at about mid chest height of an average sized person. The control panel was considerably long, reaching from both sides of the treadmill across; it made up for an otherwise imbalance on the thin pole by being equally thinner, a light topping. The central part of the control panel was straight on with the rest of the body of the treadmill; however the sides were then bent inward with a slight curve to their shape. The panel was a completely clean slate; however, further inspection would reveal the multitude of grid line miniscule holes present along its surface, light expected to roam through their ports to create a screen of holographic picturing. Between the sides of the control panel and connecting across to the centre was a decently sized tubular bar, perfectly positioned for the users hands. To hold itself solidly against the ground, the treadmill employed the use of three circular disks, two situated at the front and on at the back, sitting along the centre line. A metallic purple hue was the standard colour throughout the treadmill's body, nearly bordering upon pink, the only exception being that of the tread mat which held to an eggplant coloured purple that was quite plane in taste but was understandably rugged with its coarse small stone grip. This was indeed the way to describe the treadmill in the way that Interval remember it, but now there was just that much more attached to its being, pieces that didn't quite fit the image he had cemented in his mind. Hanging over the ledges were transparent disks shaped caps, circles with a diameter of about one and a half feet and a deepening dip at their centre. There were three to each side, all bent slightly upwards as though aimed at the heads of those who stood beside it and those who did standby were a multitude of Hyperguards whose outward appearance further played havoc with his perceptions.

There were just over two dozen Hyperguards within the room, divided apart on either side of the treadmill, all looking towards the young speedster, those standing in the back rows leaning around the sides of the front ones to get a clear view. There was something different about these one than those whom were encountered outside protecting the doors, these ones were weak. Gone were the bulging muscles with their limitless strength, reduced to being nothing more than sacs of skin upon weakening bone. Their eyes were shot red, the colour of what once separated them from one another having become rather faint, fading away to the white of the ball which itself was becoming more so yellow with sickness. These were indeed the Hyperguard that Interval and The Flash had encountered in their runs throughout the city, the ones whom sacrificed their well-being so as to allow their colleagues the potential to live. Here they were slumping at the shoulders, weakening at the knees, saliva dripping uncontrollably from their lips, all awaiting the heroic triumph of Interval, the one slated to re-establish their existence and return to them their strength. They were no longer capable of super speed movements and thus invisible to the searches of John's satellite imaging.

"It was necessary to provide for our weakened members," one of the Hyperguards whom followed Interval in was quick to say in response to the young speedster's query. The two Hyperguards still in reasonable health filtered out to the sides of the door, transfixed now upon the others just as Interval was.

"There are many of us," the other Hyperguard stepped in, "and only the one treadmill."

"It was necessary to accommodate for us," the first of the speaking Hyperguards continued on, "the cosmic energy of the treadmill will be vented through the plates. We will journey alongside you into the Speed Force," he along with his colleague turned inward of each other, producing that all to disturbing glare that sunk upon Interval whom stood in-between them.

A thunderous roar of steps hit upon Interval's ear. He let the few seconds pass for the rumbling to come to an end before he began to deconstruct it and analyze it effectively, determining in a single blink that there was something or a multitude of someone's in behind him. He hunched his chin onto his shoulder, looking over onto his backside with only a minimal of contortion to his body for comfort, his hands held out with spaced out fingers for balance all while keeping the arch of his elbows motionless along his sides. "They have been recalled," one of the guards at his side stated with his sharp tongue. Interval's jaw nearly dropped as he came across the multitude of Hyperguards crowding within the room he moments ago exited from, the front room of the XS Lab. There were far too many for him to count even with the rapid sweeping movements of his eyes, just far too many to even fit within the room, no doubt having been forced to leave some outside who were still nonetheless enticed to crawl their way through the mass of colleague to get a visual of the young speedster.

"You will connect," A Hyperguard at the front of the mass cried out, Interval catching onto the movements of his lips as the words came out.

"You will connect," a voice of another Hyperguard, his voice being just as hollow and distorted as the last, bellowed out from the back.

"You will connect," the statement continued in and amongst the pack, voices far too difficult to distinguish from one another.

"OK," Interval nodded in affirmation. He abruptly refocused himself upon the Treadmill directly across the way. It was not too long ago that he had been seduced by its power and attempted to rewrite history for his own benefit, trying every which way that he could to overcome the paradoxes of time with little understanding of the ramifications his actions had. How could he have expected to travel through time and change events that would see him without his powers? How then without his power could he have travelled back through time in the first place? Numerous times he attempted to accomplish his goal of shattering the Speed Force and then reconstructing around the ideal state he desired and each time he failed. With each failure a new version of himself was created, an endless loop of the same attempt over and over again with each successive version failing and thus being locked away for an eternity within the Speed Force's confines. It was only him now, well, at least this version of him, that was given a second chance on life knowing full well of the failures and not willing to partake in them no more, he would instead chose to live with the failure that was. It was something that those selves who tried before him could not handle and rather than accept their eternal prison they fused together to become a collective of beings with knowledge spanning a near infinite existence. The omni-selves as they were called were locked somewhere within the Speed Force, waiting to be freed so it can collapse the timeline and give themselves a world of their own. Thus Interval stepped onto the Treadmill in hope that he would not exchange one evil for another, that he would not be the one to release his rage filled time displaced duplicates. "I'm ready," Interval wrapped his hands around the jutting out bars between the edging panels while planting his heels against the tread mat, right foot forward and ready to throttle forward. His head lowered, his eyes winced and his teeth gnashed together; the tread mat was beginning to move under his power.

The tangent of blue lines soon returned all around him, spanning from an infinitesimally small point that just so happened to line up with the door, the last of his clear sights being the shuffling movements of the Hyperguards as they inched forward into the room, swiftly being visually divided by the streaks of blue. They pounded and trudged their way inside but even the heavy sounds of their boots became lost as a kaleidoscope of white and yellow ventured in between the multitude of cracks between lines, blistering through the holes like splatters of paint; he knew that the Hyperguards were around them, waiting for the fuel of this cosmic escapade to hit them. The lines began to twirl outward, spacing out from the centre point to head out beyond the surrounding confines of the treadmill, working their way out from encapsulating presence around him to instead engulf the entirety of the room in its in its essence. He stepped up his power, drilling his feet tighter to the mat producing strides that lasted under half a second. The lines flattened out, seeping overtop of the inner rungs of white to create a world completely whole of this electronic blue appearance, bright as the colour of day and yet every bit as darkly shined as gold; his vibrations were spot on, his speed infinitely unmatched, he was now within the fabric of Speed Force from which he could add his ungodly touch to any sliver of time he desired.

Interval took a quick look to either side of him, the particles of blue energy, the cosmic fuel that sporadically spread out from the treadmill, was indeed all around him but what was more of peculiar interest were the deepening surfaces of the attached plates which oozed from their sides a stream lined punch of radiation, sending out shards of shocking white lighting from their rims only a short distance before fading away into the fabric depth of blue. Above the sides were the Hyperguards, the insane multitude of them all within this shattered reality, the extent of the Speed Force being well capable of containing the near four hundred to a thousand beings despite what the reality of the room told. Their black, scarlet and gold highlighted bodies made up for the most interesting of visuals as they floated around the gravity of the treadmill, their feet trailing in behind the flying forwardness of their heads, arms tightly packed at their sides. Over the spread of what felt like a near infinite distance the figures trailed, increasingly smaller as their farthest ranks reached into the encroaching white circular sun at the back that was steadily developing its strength and magnitude with every passing second, burning out around are the curvature rounds of blue. Ripping twirls of white barbs in the illustrious lighting pattern twisted and turned around their groupings, following in and out of the bright spot in behind. Interval could not help but look around, enamoured by their grasping nature, clinging to the fabric of blue and pulling it within its magical energy. Focussed once more, he regulated his body to the processes of molecular churning, tossing around every cell within him into a pattern of vibration that would draw him towards his desired goal. "Here it comes," he quietly whispered to himself as he reached out for the thread of vibrations that matched his own, the stream that would connect him with the internal prison.

He had been here only once before, when he needed to deal with his time altering selves. It was a region within the Speed Force, sectioned off by the grand master of speed himself, Max Mercury, for those speedsters whom would use their abilities to alter the time line of their own purposes. It was a prison like no other being itself a world of an extra dimensional variety where time did not exist. A lake of a glinting foggy purple substance blew out ahead of him and the Hyperguards, fluctuating out from its circular point with a massive wave, a ripple, to become a glistening blanket that stretched out its reach in an attempt engulf them into its energetic layering. It was at this moment that he began to feel a bit of hesitation; uncertain as to whether he had the courage to move forward but nonetheless keeping his the necessary vibrations in check so as to remain on track with the prison as though the problem of conciseness would solve it self if he kept going.

The speed at which Interval was running had the unintended consequence of making him forget just exactly what his feet were doing, simply accepted their driving energy and pattern as it was without giving them so much as a passing thought; with the focus no longer upon his form of movement, he opened up his mind to other things most crucial to him He closed his eyes for a moment, bowing his head down to the control panel and remembering the events that had brought him here and then imagining all that he would miss out on now that he was doomed to be locked away forever. His life up to this point had been a string of failures, all those years of intense studying on his home world factored into nothing save for this and he wouldn't be around to recognize its victory march. His home, his time…he admits to himself that he would trade in his abilities just to return there. Iris was always uncertain of his methods and his beliefs, his so called friends always appeared suspicious of his actions and deductive thinking…the only person that had ever warmed up to him was Jai and he was simply just a man making a life for himself, no powers, no inner struggle of responsibility, how interesting that he would surround himself with the likes of his sister and be absolutely satisfied with it. He'd be content with that on his own world, his own time. A simple nod and the moment faded, back onto the path of oblivion.

The Hyperguard were of little knowledge when it came to the Speed Force and of what little they did know was that the young speedster had betrayed his commitment to them, he had not rejuvenated their connection to their power, their strength. There was on the speedster's mind, a strategy and plan that did not play favourably into their hands, it was something they certainly did not count on occurring. The prison was a one way door; those whom entered would expect never to leave. The bulk the treadmill carried would surely make it incapable of holding its patterns in flux. The possibility of its destruction upon completion was extraordinarily high; not only would it take them into the void of the prison but it would take along with them Interval as well. It was a gamble that they believe the boy to not be foolish enough to try but here they were now straddling the line of death and eternal existence in a realm of nonexistence; should they chose to stop the boy now they could always try again could they not?

The wonky sound of a hand upon metal drew Interval's attention to his left side. Looking down for the source of the odd sound, he found there to be one of the Hyperguards holding a tight grasp along the treadmill's side, his body dangling back in behind lifelessly. He looked up to the him from his low lying position with a slimy set of gnashing teeth and red shot eyes that burned into his; it was one of the weakly ones already close to his death. There was certainly no room for him to slow down now and deal with the problem but there it was, latching onto the side soon joined by another on his right whom was steadfastly gaining ground with both arms attached, the top sides of his fingers nearly touching the sharp thin line of the tread mat. Careening in behind him through the air were two others of the weakling variety of Hyperguards, trying with all their might to reach for a holding point on the treadmill that inevitably came to be the corner edges. They clutched down hard with their stick like arms, pulling themselves nearly upright in the process where by their legs began to slide beneath the treadmill and most importantly, their chests collided with the back circular loop of the tread mat. Sparks flew out from the connection and the pace by which Interval traversed into the Speed Force declined by three quarters of second, the miniscule amount of time being just enough to retransmit the pulsating ripple of gem highlighted purple back into the distant depths ahead from whence it came. The bodies of the Hyperguards in the back began to dangle around wildly, the snapping of their chests against the blistering fast moving tread mat being all too much for them to keep tightly knit to the back side. With their one hand triumphantly keeping hold of the corners, they bounce around for a bit with legs trailing in behind, swaying into one another from time to time with their weakened forms. They were far from being steady enough to make a more analytical attempt at disrupting the boy's movements but when they finally got the strength to do so they found themselves to be soundly beaten by another member.

Interval let his jaw sag down, unleashing a deep lung crashing scream as a powerful strain of pain scrawled its way up the entirety of his body. The hand of the Hyperguards on his right side had reached out for his thigh, the constant vibrations of their bodies at differing frequencies was enough to allow the body parts to phase in and out of each other with an intense amount of difficulty as the molecules intertwine with one another and broke break apart to reconnect to their original cells. It felt like a vice grip powered by electricity, ripping apart his thigh so at to connect to the bone and jostle it around till it broke, tearing and destroying everything within it as it phased through. His boots could no longer hold onto the mat, the weakened legs losing its traction with his other soon following. In a matter of seconds his feet flailed upwards and well over top of his head, nearly being tossed out from the treadmill with only his the tightening of his hands keeping him from dissipating into the Speed Force's domain. Needless to say the stream of purple was on a steady decline with the slowing movements of treadmill. Another scream and he throttled himself against the tread mat aiming his foot down upon the hand of the Hyperguard who damaged him, stomping the hand that kept him attached to the Treadmill's side, snapping into it with the expectant bite along the bottom of his foot. The military man could not keep his hold, forced off from his grasp and sent off into the distance to re-join his floating colleagues, fluttering out with all appendages aimed back towards him, yearning to get some stable footing.

It returned to him, the lake of purple in the distance, the moment he hit upon the tread mat and throttled forward to get back up to speed. The high ripple that ebbed out from the lake circled once more around them, creeping over the illustrious depth of blue with its glimmering smoke filled darkness. By now he was forced to grip with his finality rather abruptly, with all the Hyperguards around him, the time for hesitation had ended, it was time to accomplish his goal, his lone victory. He slipped away into the prison, taking one last look back to see the sides as they were immersed in the darkened clouds of purple, curving in ward of the multitude of bodies and placing the spherical sun of light under its influence. "No!" Interval shouted as a puzzling palm sized orb of twisted bundled bars of lighting ricocheted through the tubular walling of his tunnel into the prison, navigating inward on an angle that placed it on a collision course with the centre of his chest, hitting upon The Flash insignia he wore there. The orb shattered in an instance, breaking down its glassy like composition into a multitude of crushed piece which instantly fell in line together, fusing into a flat circular dot that unleashed the lightning it contained like tendrils, soaring around his body and wrapping around every inch. The effects of this hit were immediately felt all over; the muscles of his legs tensed up with all inner cords and tendons turning to stone, his fingers fell up from the bar arching awkwardly into claw like holdings that could not grip, his sets of teeth smashed into one another as his jaw froze tightly together, and many other ailments that made even the flexing of an eyebrow impossible. It was in this moment that he felt it all end, his body slipping away from the tread mat to fall in the Speed Force; another failure for without someone to man the treadmill than the tunnel would collapse and the Hyperguard would walk free committing their act of annihilation out of spite, dying no less feeling victorious. This would have been the case had it not been for the last thing he saw before he bombed out of the tunnel line; another speedster. It was not a Hyperguard stepping up onto the Treadmill; no, it was someone else, someone much slimmer yet every bit as muscular and more cheery looking overall. Straight out of nowhere, this speedster took up his position, landing firmly upon the mat with hands grasping to the bars, prepared to vibrate and pound away to make the achievement without him. He was a being of similar size to himself, a young speedster no doubt with a suit that was inhumanly white. It was a full cowl costume much like his own with the appropriate attaching boots and gloves though of a light blue colour in comparison to his red; he was everything reversed to him, a costume of pure happiness to his all too grim and gritty garbs. The speedster looked over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Interval as he flew out of the stream. His eyes were invisible behind the tightly tinted blues of his goggles but for whatever reason Interval believe them to be as open as his smile; with a simple nod, the speedster appeared to tell him that he was taking things over from here. It was the last thing that Interval saw before he was awakened to the reality of the XS laboratory room, chucked across it a speed that even frightened him. He was daze and confused, flipping around upside down, nose nearly drawing in to touch the clean hard stone floor. He let out a few agonizing grunts as the time displacement field around him began to soften its hold, leaving him able to move his body and articulate his joints not that such freedom was reassuring him for a soft land, the curvature of his fall taking him at least one metre away from knocking against the wall. He flipped around upright with his back facing the wall and stomped his feet into the ground allow the force of friction take over in the drag, no matter how brief it was. It wasn't quite enough to slow him down and within a single second his head smashed against the wall with back and limbs following in shortly. "Agh," he spat out a slobbery fit of blood filled spit to the floor as he dropped down to his knees, hands cradling the flat surface with slightly clench fingers, letting his body feel away the sickness that filled the interior of his stomach and throttled up his throat taking along with it all the pain that fleshed out as the result of his super healing.

"Did it work?" Interval raised his head to look out for the familiar voice, catching onto the slender form of The Flash as she approached him, "are they gone?" she slid down to her knees, hand already jumping at the chance to wrap around Interval's sides, bringing him in close tightly to her, "Jace?"

"The Treadmill," Interval coughed, "it's gone…."

"It's not a big deal alright? That thing was a death trap anyway," The Flash attempted to hush him, "it's OK, I got you out of there," she paused for a moment, taking a moment to look around the empty room, "are they all gone? The Hyperguard?"

Through the heavy breaths Interval found his words, "they're gone."

* * *

It felt good to be out of his Interval costume. The previous hours' events brought forth a great deal of sweat that tightened the leather like feel of his costume closely to his skin to the point of chaffing; not exactly a pleasant feeling when running. With the removal of the cow, Jace was shown to be a short blond haired boy with brown eyes of the most unusual shade, truly unearthly. In this current down time, he took to wearing a loose feeling pair of black dress pants, a clear straight laced pair devoid of smears and folds save for where the seams made it so. Atop his upper body was a simple short sleeved scarlet red t-shirt that comfortably fit the top of his shoulders and flowed spaciously around his stomach, capping off at about an inch beyond his waist line. At the moment he was dealing with something of a personal matter or rather a hobby of his taken up now that he had fully expected to live his life within this time; plant conservation.

At the side of West home was an outcropping rectangular hub only a story high. The outer broadside and the shorter side facing the back of the house were primarily composed of horizontally laid strips of wood on their interior side, varnished to glow with its creamy colour. The only abstracting features to the otherwise full wood walls were the sets of sliding glass doors; one set in the upper corner of the broadside wall and the other set sitting centre of the smaller wall. The full sets were composed of dual door shapes made of glass, one of which was intended to slide in behind the other, completed with the addition of black handles which curved outward of the centre like a scallop with a vertical rising bar at the end; perfect for reaching fingers around to grasp. The other wall facing the front was built up for the first metre with a variety of oblong shape rocks about the size of the average hand and then some before leaning off into the normalcy of horizontally laid wood strips; it was along this wall that the side of a hot tube was attached, a big square box of steaming water that was slated to suit up to ten people if appropriately seated. It was Jai whom often found the tub to be relaxing but since the cold shields only protected the house when Captain Cold attacked [INT#3], the room was lost and Jai was left sad. Jace swiftly took to the room, removing the now frigid broken tub and immediately set to layering the walls with a series of the wooden plank shelves which contained on their backsides an assortment of sized clay vases that held an earthly orange colour. Within each one was an abundance of rich soil Jace had collected along with an appropriate plant though at this time a distinction was not immediate since the few weeks of growth only saw there to be a few only a few sprouting greens, absent of colour; however, this was not always the case, especially for the lone shelving unit that lined the wall facing into the house.

The wall facing in the house was quite distinct from its counterpart, instead of a sliding door it possessed in the far corner facing the back of the house a single dark brown paint door with a simple gold painted knob as well as a pane of glass within the middle top section where one's head would come be when standing near it. To the right of the doors and holding a position throughout the breadth of the remaining wall, was a clean window strip which gave full view of a rather dirty looking storage room that was more likely used for drying off after a sit in the tub more than anything else. What was especially different about this side was the single shelf that sat just beneath the line of the window, holding a top of its back a series of those clay pots though as opposed to the green what rose from the soil were flowers of various shapes and colours, tubular ones, spaced out one with a hundred different peddles facing in of one another; it was a delightful sight to say the least when looking through the window on the other side, but as it was with flowers, they were quite the temporary fixture.

The lone door connecting in the house opened with a swivel of the knob and creak of his hinges, "Jace," Iris's sweet tipped voice fell upon the boy's ears. She kept on the black leather like jacket as she wore in her alternative identity but kept the costume off as was natural in her own home, wearing a simple white shirt and corresponding tight black pants that really accentuated her height. Her flashing red hair was free from its restraints; away with the bulb that tied it down into a tail, allowed to roam peacefully around her shoulders with its curving graces. She leaned up against the outer edge of the frame and crossed her arms over her chest, producing a small smirk as she analyzed Jace's backside, the boy seemingly analyzing a particular small plant waiting to sprout up into a strong stalk.

"Iris," Jace looked over his shoulder and nodded in her direction before taking the necessary steps to turn around to meet her face to face.

"How's all this gardening coming along," she licked her bottom lip a little as she looked around the room, intrinsically bored by the pots of clay and the brown soil they kept within their walls.

"It's turning out quite fine," Jace leapt in with his confident monotone, "I still haven't exactly been able to keep this room at the proper humidity but I have to say that has more to do with the random weather patterns were facing…it's much too hot. I was thinking that I could tear out these walls and replace them with something a little more habitual for the plant life."

Iris pushed up from the ledge and took a step towards Jace, "its fine with me," she nodded, "but don't you think there's something, I don't know, a little more exciting that you can be doing with your time?"

"For me this is exciting," Jace looked to her with blank eyes, "it's the only time in my life that I'll be able to create life that I can care for. Many of these specimens don't exist in my time."

"Tulips," Iris chuckled as she turned towards the window side wall with all the flowers, puzzled by the particular tubular shaped white coloured flower that sprouted out from the pot situated nearest to the door along the shelf, "who'd have thought they would ever go extinct," she leaned down her head to meet the tulip's bulb head on.

"They don't," Jace hastily commented with a little shaking sway to his head, "I just like Tulips." Iris nodded with a gulp and rose back up from her analysis, "I was hoping I'd be able to harvest their seeds while their still fresh, grow a batch of my own."

"They smell nice," Iris looked to him with a closed smile, popping up the points of her cheek, "would certainly help with the way Jai stinks up the place."

"Yes," Jace replied shortly with a tad bit of sarcasm latched onto his distinct vocal pattern, "but I take it that you wanted to come here and talk about something more than just my gardening hobbies."

Iris cleared her throat, unable to cross eyes with the boy before stepping out with her words, "you like it here don't you?" her head slightly tilted at angle, eyes yearning for a particular response as they refocused upon his.

Jace let out a heavy breath which brought about the slump of his shoulders, "I don't know," he responded with a loud whisper, "this is nothing like where I'm from…I've read much about this era from history files but that was it…" his eyes winced, "it was just history. I never wanted to live through it, especially not like this."

"Now what is that supposed to me?" Iris questioned with an inkling of concern.

"I've done so much damage to the world with all my failures," Interval deconstructed the monotone, his eyes flickering away at the slight rungs of moisture that formed underneath his eyes, "the Hyperguard weren't the first evil I unleashed. Captain Cold survived because his future version used my cracking of the time line to resurrect himself earlier than he should have been…and he almost destroyed the city," he sniffed followed by a heavy seeded sigh, "I didn't want to have to force anything upon anyone and then…you killed two of them."

"No Jace, please" Iris raised her hand in a sign of stoppage, lowering her head with subsequent closing eyes, feeling the painful memories reach into every facet of her brain, "I don't want to think about that please. I can't even step outside the front door….I'm just trying to get over it."

"I know," Jace returned, "but I forced it upon you."

"You couldn't have known," Iris rose suddenly with a gulp, "I couldn't have known that was going to happen."

"I was going to take all of them with me into the Speed Force," the strength of Jace's monotone returned, his shoulder's rising back up to their normal orientation, flatly falling out from his neck line, "I was the reason they were here. I had to be the one to deal with it."

"And take yourself with them Jace…" Iris took two steps up to him, balancing her right hand on his shoulder, "that's not heroic. You were prepared to give away your life and all I could think about was how easy it was for you to have made that decision…you didn't ask for help."

"You have no idea what I've done…" Jace pulled away from her, zeroing in on her eyes, "what I've created. Believe me, it would have been better that I be taken into the Speed Force with them."

"You haven't done anything wrong," Iris began, "you saved lives here. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"No," Jace scoffed, "It hasn't changed what I've done," he shook his head slightly, tightening his eyes further with every wrung past the centre line of his body, "I just want to go home," he snapped, "I just want to forget that this ever happened, " his breaths fell into a shallow holding, "I just want my father back…and I just want to go home," he slowed down, "I don't know why the Speed Force choose take him over me… I can never be what my Father was."

"Then how can I help?" Iris piqued up with a cheerful undertone, herself understanding full well what feelings he had.

"The treadmills gone…" Jace worked back to his normal regulation of breath, "but I don't think it matters Iris…" he looked up to her, thrilled to see her tight forming closed smile, "I saw myself…my future self," he nodded in affirmation, "he didn't need a treadmill to traverse through time and took over on the treadmill where I left off when you hit me with your time bubble…He was the one whom carried the Hyperguard off to the prison, he saved me from that end so that one day I could become him." Iris stepped back with small steps, eyes widening as Jace grew to become excited, that characteristic being one that she never found to be associated with the young man, leaving her to become muddled in tone of fear she could not comprehend, "I have hope now. Hope that I will become that person I saw today…with that kind of power I can have all those things I wanted and so much more. Don't you see? I'll be able to make it so you never killed them, no more guilt, no more suffering," he paused for a few seconds letting the moment get its air, "he just looked happy."


	32. Nightwing 8

Nightwing #8  
Volume 1, Story 6.  
Locked in the Coffin (Part 2)

* * *

"We're dead!" Nightwing's moan hit the air with a bang, a scream that should have been heard by the neighbourhoods surrounding the cemetery he currently sat within, knees to the ground with hands clawing upwards for the sky. The strange state of being that he had fallen into recently meant that his cries went unheard by all around save for one individual whom happened to also be involved in the twisting of fates.

"Great Hera, will you shut up!" Supergirl shouted with a slapping of her open palm against the crying boy's shoulder, sending him throttling to the ground to fast for his hands to save him from the imminent crunch against the ground, "we're not dead!" she concluded with a scowl.

Nightwing let out a grass filled grunt, sticking out his tongue to fight against the odd feeling of dirt that sifted through his teeth, wincing his eyes to shake of a mild strain of anger, "what was that for?" he clawed his hands deeply into the soft soil of the cemetery, letting the cold ooze of mud slip through his fingers as he shook away the pain in his shoulder, "I can't lift planets of kryptonite into space, alright? I'm human."

"Good, I'm glad you can admit it," Supergirl continued in her foul mood, stomping her hands down into the ground, using that acquired support to lift herself up onto her feet. She smoothed out the wrinkles of her long shirt and stepped around the helpless bat-boy whom could not help but follow her movements around his backside with a puzzling stare.

Nightwing was mostly decked head to toe in a sleek firm black uniform, its only detracting feature being the superimposed vibrant blue falcon spanning his chest, its straight lined wing tops soaring in at angles down from his armpits to the centre of his chest with a geometric audacity to the feather trailing below as well as the diamond shaped tail and narrowing neck, notable for the two beaks angling off to the right. The sides of his head, lifting up in line with his ears, were the oft most recognizable part of the costume for those who traverse the rooftops of Gotham at night; the pointed bat ears, stretching up a hefty distance before slightly curving towards the back of his head. Above the slimming black sheen, he wore assorted pieces of equipment that deviated away from the whole with its more lukewarm greys colouration. Around much of his forearms were steel shined gauntlets of sorts which were rather bulky on the outside on account of the rounded topped compartments that contained his escrima styled sticks. The gloves that seeped out from under the gauntlets were of a light shaded grey and quite squared and bulky around his small fingers. His boots carried with them a distilling grey shade and stood to be much looser fitting than his gloves, taking a round formation around his toes while leaving the bulk of his shins exposed on account of the boot's upper fabric being unwisely large in their embedded hoop ring like fashion, falling flatly along to the sides of his feet on many occasions when he stepped into any fighting techniques. "What do you mean?" he took one last long look at the grave top he and Supergirl once crowed around, a smooth silver shined curving coffin shaped lid, its dark engraved lettering being quite nonsensical for the young boy and for the most part was completely irrelevant now to either he or Supergirl, having already served its purposes for the time being; revealing their ghost like state when their hands, and by extension their arms, slipped through its surface of stone and metal with ease. "Is this that you have a problem with who I am? What I was born as?" he rose to his feet, twisting as was necessary to follow the movements of Supergirl.

Supergirl was young, close on par to Nightwing, but made up for her age and subsequent lack of experience with an impressive physical form unmatched by her peers; not that she much worried about exercise as they did on account of her vast array of superpowers. Her top was a strong blue, a tightening thick fabric that gripped to every facet of her upper body before flaring out from her waist, divided at the sides by a simple cut that treaded upwards to the centre of her torso thus creating a set of flaps; one at her front and another gracing her backside. Underneath her top was a skin tight red single piece suit that slipped all the way down to her toes forming tight box like ends; a set of boots. She was a proud member of her shared parentage but had opted in her youth to follow the path that her father had set in his time on Earth, wearing boldly at the centre of her chest the iconic Superman logo, the giant red 'S' embedded within a black base outlined by a golden trim; it had its differences, but the meaning was still the same. Her face was inhuman, not on account of its shape, which was truly beautiful by any scale or standard, but rather for her shock of light blue hair that was tied up closely in a red soft ring at the back of her skull thus creating a tail like twirl. Following in line with this colour were her eyebrows, further complimented by the luscious blue in her lips and wide ocean blue eyes. "I don't make primitive judgements in the people that I save," she continued to trudge on, her backside to the confused boy.

"So…" Nightwing wavered throughout the yawning sound his extended word made. Needless to say, he was unable to decipher Supergirl's anger sweetened words, "this does something to do with who I was born as?" he shovelled himself over to the side, lining up a path with Supergirl up ahead, careful in his steps to avoid the myriad of tombstone plaques that embedded the grounds around them, their often engraved dates of death being decades before he was even born. "My mother was an amazon…but she didn't come from the island, she was born in 'man's' world" He scooted forward, bridging the several metre gap that had developed between them, "I know I didn't read much of your mother's stories when I was younger, but last I checked she was created from a lump of magical clay…I mean how does that make you any more different from me?" his concluding words trickled down in strength, inevitably slowing to a weak crawl in just trying to be released from his shivering jaw for Supergirl had placed within him a dose of fear when she sharply turned around to meet him face to face and marched to him with her right hand open, its fingers ready to claw at his throat.

"You can't talk about her like that!" Supergirl snapped off as her fingers clench down around his neck, lifting upwards slightly to get the bulk of her thumb under his chin, "she is an ambassador of peace, truth and love." She shoved her face up close to his, leaning him head over heels in order to play the height angle, "show some respect, or I'll throttle your skull into your stomach!" she stated sternly under the pressure of ready to clench teeth. With the release of her grasp, the boy slump to the ground like a brick once more unable to brace himself for the crash with his hands. "I earned my title," she stepped away from him, returning to her path with a turn, "as my mother did before me. No one is an Amazon by birthright."

The plot of land dedicated to cemetery use was sizable though only a small fraction of the more arena sized plots that had become the norm in this era and certainly wasn't as beautifully maintained. Surrounding its elongated rectangular shape was a simple grey metal fence, thick poles spaced out from one another a suitable distance with thin twine like cords weaved through one another and in between forming diamond shaped patterns big enough to fit a tennis ball through, almost. Beyond the fence line were the poorly decaying roadways that perfectly fit well with the outer city vibe. At their backsides ranged an assortment of taller buildings that fitted the outskirts of the down town business centres, the usual high-rise apartment structures with their squared off blocky shapes made of glass, stone and full perimeter balcony rails that signified the beginning of a new floor. They stood upwards of twenty stories and appeared clustered together from a standing perception within the cemetery limits, as though they were glued together though still not quite touching. To either of their sides, beyond the road lines, were primarily low key housing units, long strips of wooden panels in the strangest hues of blue, green and others that were an affront to the eyes; their meagre front lawns being just a mould ridden as the cemetery's plot.

The plot ahead of Supergirl's steps, ahead of the flat lying tombstones reach, were a multitude of upwardly inclined slopes and variable jagged cliff rises with their clay like walls producing the simplest of jagged and coarse textures within its rise. It was through this rough patch of land at the end of the cemetery that she and Nightwing had found a cultish group of red garbed woman hiding in a cavern, preparing to resurrect some demonic force under the name of Johnny Warlock whom they intended to worship, providing him with that tasty meal of Miss Marvel, the super heroine powered by the magic of SHAZAM. Johnny Warlock was the one who had done this to them, made them into what could only be described as ghost like. If she was to save her friend and reinstate herself in her body, then it was this Warlock character she would need to beat the ancient bones out of.

A series of single room sized buildings lined of these cliff sides and rows in-between, holding personal plots of land to themselves with less than adequate security, often consisting of shin high wood or metal fences and bolted doors that did little to prevent the curious trespasser from venturing a look inside if they knew how to unravel the simple locks. These small little homes were for the most part built up of stone, softly smoothed down and occasionally varnished to produce a glossy finish though such shines were vaguely seen through the smothering of dirt and the acts of erosion after decades of weathering. Regardless of current condition, the exteriors' extensive designs could not go unnoticed; swirling bits of carved stone, the engraving of words in a dead language, along with more than the occasional popping out of angelic imagery was the standard norm, but the wonders one experienced in these designs were always lost the moment one realized what would be found within their solid walls. They were crypts, keeping the bodies of the deceased above ground rather than below. The freakishly old trees with their minimal foliage crept in overhead, decorating the rooftops with their clawing shadows while their roots weaved their way through the mounds of clay and dirt fitted upon the cliff sides; a truly grotesque image. It was in the distance that the tallest of trees existed, beyond the line of crypts. It was in that sparse forested region that Supergirl remembered the encounter with Johnny Warlock and his followers; it was now that she remembered most of all his leather like face and skin all wound up tightly against his poorly structured bones. Firmly within his chest was a circular button like object, a red background base which bowed upwards at the centre at least a centimetre, fanning back to its sides with a slow decline. A gold trim was fitted around its curvature, its interior being the most memorable for its simple drawn face, composed of white rectangular slots, the eyes wincing down in anger and rage. Not even the ghostly state she was in would stop her from freeing her friend, any fears she held would just have to be put on hold indefinitely.

The fall created quite the impression of his lower body in the moist ground making him quite thankful for the suits protective layers especially now since he found the electronic systems within no longer to be functioning thusly restricting his usually amplified strength, now believing himself to be stripped down to the bare minimum that was gained through ambitiously lazy exercise, "but Lara…" he broke free of the groan as he rose up, ready to join Supergirl in her march, "can't we work through this?" he stepped up into a short lived jog, attempting to reach up to her but slowing down several stride away, "we're dead now and …we might have to spend eternity together," he gulped with a sudden stop to his steps, "I don't want to spend the rest of eternity with you hating me."

Supergirl abruptly circled around, shaking her head from side to side through the process of doing so whilst shaking up her hands to the orbit of her head with a diffused rage, "well you boy's really shoot for the sky with me don't you? An eternity with me, what more could be asked?" she rang off with a hefty dose of sarcasm, tossing down her arms, letting them hang lifelessly at her sides, "we are not dead!" she shouted with the widening of her eyes.

Nightwing blinked several times, "but…our hands, they went through the tombstone?" he raised his right hand, flexing around the fingers to and fro as though articulating a rubber glove, enticing it to fit nicely.

"Then explain how we're still on the ground," Supergirl swept out her left hand, opening her palm upwards so as to showcase the plot of land right in front of Nightwing, its solidity without question, "how is it that your feet and your stupidity are making imprints in the dirt? Do our clothes suddenly have souls?" she retracted her hand to join her right in clenching her stomach, stifling her distaste for the boy with a menacing glare that sent ripples of skin up her nose, "you're supposed to be the detective," she started up with a mocking tone, "why don't you think for once." Upon the final word, she reasserted herself to her desired path, turning her steps into the marshy like grass that led into the region of crypts, indeed making a mark with her steps. "No…we are not dead," she concluded.

"Fine," Nightwing sharpened his tongue. He took a moment to think to himself, quickly finding the confidence that would support his words, "I bet you that this is one of those mind over matter things," he circled his hand around his chin, wavering his eyes up into the sky, intrigued by its cloudy white design with few sparse bundles of grey shading, "even the smallest bit of doubt would unravel everything we hold to be true. But we still have to be conscious of it…we have to know it," an eye brow arched upwards, "did you by chance see the tombstone when you went out to touch it?"

Supergirl stopped suddenly mid-step, slightly tipping her chin over to her right shoulder with the outer most eye widening to look back at Nightwing, "no," she weakly stated as she knelt her head, returning it to its centre, "I just reached out for anything…I couldn't see very well, I was all woozy when I woke up."

"So was I," Nightwing cheered, "see, I can think!" he pulled the fingers of his left hand into the palm, producing a fist that bolted across his chest, pounding into the opening of his right, "all we need to do to touch something is not doubt it's solidity."

"That's easier said than done now that we've seen ourselves pass through something," Supergirl commented with a quick turnaround, waiting for the boy to catch up to her so they could continue their discussion, "I'm not sure if I still have my abilities, I can't exactly feel the ground…" she looked down and hammered her foot into the ground, watching as the marsh like moss and dirt curled around the sides of her boot.

"Why don't you try one of your seven hundred forms of vision?" Nightwing blurted out as he came to step up to her.

"I don't have any vision abilities," Supergirl hastily responded with a sigh.

"Weak…" Nightwing rolled his eyes, "I believe you still have your powers, I mean I felt that slap you gave me and we touched one another…just like real ghosts," his eye bounced with a smile.

Supergirl moaned with dissatisfaction before returned to the serious edge she needed, "that's probably because you believe that I still have my abilities…I however am not as convinced," she shook her shoulders, "I don't feel anything, no strength, no speed…." She sighed with a slight shake of her head, "now the only thing I can beat up is you."

"What do you suppose he did with our bodies?" Nightwing tossed his question, ignorant of the depressing slump that had fallen upon the once powerful girl, her eyes twitching back and forth on the focus of either one of her drawn arms, looking for the presence of fluctuating veins through the muscles' bulk when she clenched her hands into fists. "I hope I wasn't cremated," the hand shot back up to his chin, index finger layering the side of his cheek with its pulling scratch, "although you know if I was then I hope Wayne can put up the funds to get me a real special container," he smiled widely, whipping off his chin hugging hand to rapidly wave the index finger in Supergirl's direction, "a gold plated container."

"We'll find out, alright?" Supergirl twirled around to face the section of crypts once more, "we just have to go check in on that cave of theirs and see if anyone's still around." Several steps more and she was in the land of these stone homes of the dead but just before her foot could reach within its borders a magical touch of pain enveloped her body enticing her to scream. A gut reaction forced Nightwing to propel himself backwards, falling almost immediately to his knees all while he watched her becoming engulfed in twisting curls of vibrant blue lights, flashing thunder that rip and tore throughout her frame, twisting up around her arms and legs with its tendrils. Her chin fell upon her right shoulder while her hands reach out along her sides with palms prepared to grasp an invisible wall. Even her legs fell in on the act, the left becoming straight and narrow with toes touched the ground while her right broke down at the knee joint forcing her thigh to take in the tightening pressure of her calf. The touch of pain went on for several unbearable seconds before she was finally chucked away, her long flashy blue hair trailing well in behind her fallen body. Her plan for landing was erratic at best, tossed a good metre back from the region of crypts to nearly crash into Nightwing, forcing the reaction of another dive, this time out of the way, settling with the landing of his pointed elbow against the center of one of the last flat lying tombstones on the edges of the crypt, the pain understandably not felt until he set eyes upon it.

"Well that was odd," Nightwing stated with a bit of puzzlement. He looked across from his position on the ground to Supergirl, the fried girl antagonizing the pain into rescinding from her face as she attempted to get up on all fours, experiencing quite the bit of difficulty in doing so, "don't think I'll be trying next." When their eyes met he swiftly turned away, looking down to what he saw to be the gravestone, "ah!" he whimpered with a gasp before tossing out his hands, slapping away at the ground as his legs rapidly stretched out at the central joint so as to get himself back upright.

"There's some sort of force field," Supergirl stepped up to a position just short of where she believed she was shocked with hands gingerly seeping in under the flaps of her top so as to provide a downward tug that would straightening it out. She took a heavy gulp before looking over to the Nightwing whom had swiftly joined her at her side, prepared to give him her conclusion, "must be made of magic," she buttoned her lips down, leaning into a pause dedicated to analytical thought that brought her vision to the encroaching tree tops of the forest beyond, "they could be draining Miss Marvel's life force as we speak if they haven't already."

"Maybe my source can help us out," Nightwing chimed in, "I've had her piece together a picture of the amulet thing that snapped into Johnny Warlock's chest…you know that thing with the grotesque smile," he swiftly mirrored the image he imagined, open whit tooth smile that was border line cringe worthy but nonetheless played to effect for just like the amulets, his eyes appeared through the cowl as white topped sockets.

"Well," Supergirl shrugged her hands, "what does your source say?"

"I don't know," Nightwing bellowed. He reached a hand to the back of his head, "I can't get anything on my suit to run…I don't think that it's working."

"It's probably because you're just imagining you're wearing it," Supergirl stated with a nod.

"Well, I've still got the blue bird," Nightwing threw his hand over his shoulder, pointing towards the place they had just come from with his thumb.

"Good," Supergirl started up in her stride, heading back towards the land of buried bodies, "I was just thinking that our bodies could be alive and if that's the case then they're going to need some nourishment sooner or later," she looked over to Nightwing with a slight nod, insinuating for him to catch up, "or one of us just might end up dying for real…and the last thing I want is to wake up next to some dead person."

"What makes you think you'll survive longer than me?" Nightwing scampered up alongside her.

Supergirl raised her chin slightly, taking to a pride filled stride, "you're only human."

The Bluebird was Nightwing's personal vehicle though he wouldn't really know it unless he was told so since for the most part the higher ups, whether they be Wayne or his source, Proxy, fused the navigation controls with the bat computer and moved him accordingly, often against his will if not all the time. The central part of the craft was an oval shaped piece which was much flatter on its bottom side than its top which was noted for its curvature across from side to side on account of the wide brim deep tinted blue windshield that sat there, taking up much of the top section of the craft. The exception to the windshield's grasp over much of the craft was the foot thick rectangular shaped box that straddled the backside of the central piece, its broadside facing inward of the windshield with its height just coming on par with its closest edge for a nice smooth feeling all the way across before sliding down the quarter circle slump that lined its backside ledge, seamlessly blending in down the entirety of the flat backside. On either side of this centre piece were spike like wings that bowed outwards more so when closest to the pod before narrowing out to a point a good distance ahead of the craft's bulk. On the inner side of the wings were dark blue panels that followed within a strong black trim. At current, the Bluebird was resting in between a strip of near evenly placed gravestones, those markers in the grass making for almost a runway strip, its soft bladed long grass being the most perfect of landing spots to avoid paint scratching.

Nightwing stepped around the closest wing, turning around its pointed end to get to the front of the craft while Supergirl watched from a short distance away with an impatient smirk. He hummed a low tune of contemplation, circling his mind with beliefs of solidity, before rising up both hands in preparation of sliding over and cementing themselves on top of the windshield, "this isn't going to work."

"Well yeah," Supergirl bashed out sarcastically, "if you keep telling yourself that."

"No," Nightwing shook his head as he placed his hands firmly upon the windshield, pressing against it to affirm it's solidity before attempting to leap up on it. Standing now upon the lower region of the windshield where it was relatively flat, he looked down to Supergirl whom now appeared to him as less than half his size, "I mean the Bluebird computer won't turn on unless I got the suit on," he extended his hands as straight as he could out the sides and flapped them down and up like a deranged bird, "and as you can clearly see, I'm not wearing any costume."

"Well there's got to be something else we can do," Supergirl crossed her arms.

"Back home," Nightwing raised his index finger and shook it with the epiphany present in the widening of his eyes, "I always keep a mobile on hand just in case I lose my equipment…preparation is key to any good career as a superhero," he smiled.

"And we're like an hour walk away from the city," Supergirl spurned out with contempt before switching gears, "I could fly there and back within a few minutes," she nodded happily to herself though proved unable to smile, just keeping her jaw slightly from closing, "yeah, I can do this."

"Well then, what am I supposed to do walk?" Nightwing slammed the back of his hand against his waist line, fingers trailing upwards, sarcastic question dripping with contempt.

"I don't know," Supergirl blustered into an answer, "why do you need to come in the first place?"

"You don't know how what you're looking for," Nightwing swiftly contended.

"Well, tell me where to find it then."

"No," Nightwing dropped his hands with a single shrug, "I think I'm going to make you wait for me."

"We don't have time for this," Supergirl's voice became more evidently disturbed by the endless bickering, tiring out nearly to the point of being hoarse.

"No, we're walking," Nightwing began to cheerfully step towards the front edge of his vehicle, ready to hop down, "let's get started…whoa!" he suddenly became silent, looking to Supergirl so they could both share in a feeling appropriately described as heart stopping. Looking down below between his legs, the bat-boy found himself to be hovering a short distance up from the earth, the leap off the tip of the Bluebird having only landed him less than an inch down from the its top. He suddenly lowered his back, leaning lowly with outstretched arms attempting to feel for something that was blocking his fall but was thrilled to there to be nothing, his right hand diving in-between the sides of his boots and beyond the flats of his soles. "I can fly!" he bolted his upper body right back up. With fluttery footsteps forward out from the reach of the wing, he scrawled up several invisible steps into space, running at full speed before leaping off his imagined end, pulling into barrel role as he turned away to face the buildings lining the distant horizon, legs tightly bound and arms tossed up ahead in full homage to the legendary Superman, a movement that sourly hit Supergirl's tongue, deeming him to be unfit and therefore nothing more than a pastiche.

"What?" Supergirl lowered her head as she darted off to follow, attempting to leap up as she always had to get some altitude before lurching off into flight mode but as she began to pass by the tips of the wings she stumbled in her footing, stubbing the front end of her right foot against the heel of her left. "What's going on here," she slapped her hands away at the sides of her body, "I can't do it," she snapped with an angry scowl, narrowing her eyebrows down as she looked up coldly to the soaring Nightwing overhead, completely enthralled with this drastic new ability he acquired through the perception of ghosthood. He performed barrels upon barrels, loops upon loops, twisting and turning as he imagined he one day would, defying with ease what the thrusters in his boots were incapable of ever achieving.

"Well then wait here," Nightwing hollered back with a chuckle, "this is the greatest thing ever!" he shook his hands like a mad man, drawing them in close to his chest as he did so to shake them even more so with the tightening of fists, matching their magnitude of blood pulsing strength with the largest grin he could muster, "I'll be back in a minute," he sauntered off into the sky, on a path approaching his destination.

"No!" Supergirl mirrored Nightwing's closed fists raised just ahead of her chest but as opposed to the thrilling feeling that ran through his body with each wring out of his fist, she was filled with the limitless bounds of rage, filling her mind and forcing her eyes shut. With a sudden leap she felt the cool graces of accomplishment, "oh," she let out a blustery puff of expired air as she saw the ground a short knee distance below her; everything back to normal, almost. She was quickly off to join Nightwing, assuming her typical position of flight knowing full well how to use the dividing currents of air to her advantage but soon learnt it to be unnecessary; no breeze had fallen upon her face.

"You know what?" Nightwing pulled his legs up almost to point of sitting suspended in the air, "I don't think we even have to breath!" he started to chuckle all over again, "let's go check out space really quick!"

"No you don't," Supergirl reached out for Nightwing's arm, pulling him down to her level before he could propel himself any further into the atmosphere's grasp, "we have a mission," she narrowed her eyes into his, scowling with the hopes of cementing her serious intent, "lives on the line. We go straight to your home, find your mobile device and move forward with whatever information your source can provide, quick and efficiently. We're not stopping so you can play around!"

* * *

"This is the greatest thing ever," Nightwing made his delightful feelings known, "I just wish I could I don't know…feel it," he slurred off into his final words, "I couldn't even get the gratitude of showing off…I don't think anyone saw me?"

"Would you come down now," Supergirl scolded him, "you've done nothing but proclaim about how awesome it is to fly."

"Well it is," Nightwing continued with a smear of smugness, "just think about it, no mechanical aids, no refuelling…" He fell into a stuttering fit with the words experiencing difficulty on the way up of a tightened stomach.

"I don't have to imagine," Supergirl shyly retorted, "I just do."

"Well maybe you should learn to enjoy what you've got," Nightwing cheekily responded.

The front door that took one in from one from the hallway of the apartment building proper and into the apartment of Cassie Sandsmark was a solid sheen of white, poorly matched by its steel composition, the hollowed out centre of its form being enough to make a decent ringing sound when knocked upon, not that this would be the case when Nightwing and Supergirl encountered it. A grey thickly coated gloved hand suddenly shot through its centre, sliding through with ease, "like a ghost," Nightwing chuckled with a slithering spy slicked voice. The outstretching hand was soon joined with the presence of his falcon crossing chest and the tip of his nose. He stepped around rather awkwardly while getting in, hesitation on his part from thinking too much about what he would see passing through such an object. "I'm OK," He breathed a sigh of relief, stomping his feet down into the soft wood panelled floor along with the reaching of his hands for his waist line, shaking around his shoulders to get into just that right feeling of comfort, "Cassie I'm home!" he shouted with rapid accentuations to each syllable. His eyes beamed with excitement when seeing the walls as painted a relatively calm blue, straddling the side of darkness with its smooth face, well matching to his favourite colour, "can't hear what you can't see I suppose," he nonchalantly shrugged.

The 'S' shield of the Earth based Kryptonians was the next thing to press on through the door, its strike of red and black shaping being a recognizable standout on the background of a solid blue. Supergirl shuffled through with considerable ease, making one stride inward of the door to get in line beside Nightwing, the two taking a moment to look at each other with a batted up eye brows.

To their immediate left was the living room, the smooth varnished wood of the hallway floor continuing on through the white trim of the entrance way to fill in the entirety of the space with a well matched colour scheme, the blues decorating the walls, blending well in such a hue with the fluffy top cushions of the couch strips that lined up against them. Following on down the way from the open frame was a table, a cut in half oval that balanced its straight side against the wall with its bowing outside cutting meagrely into the walking space of the corridor. It was a dark oak construction and as such held to be the feature most distinguishable and notable throughout the walkway which for Cassie was all the more reason to place upon its back a myriad of photographs and pictures depicting not only herself but also her mother and Diana Prince, better known as Wonder Woman. It was people that the two young superheroes knew quite well but while one of them embraced those depicted, the other simply shunned away.

Ahead of the photo filled table was another white frame fitting of a door but emplaced in its opening was the solid steel emplacement not unlike the door though more so regarded as being thin as well as solid through and through, its mechanics being that of a slider into the wall rather than one that swivelled open on a hinge. It was Cassie's personal office, the book and paper ridden world of a classic era, herself often disinterested in moving forward with the bends of technology due mostly impart to the teachings of her mother, a well-regarded archaeologist. At the end of the corridor several metres away was the opening into the kitchen, the breaking of the panelled wood into a single well cut sheet of pearl white linoleum and to the immediate left of it, at the very end of an otherwise very clean wall devoid of doors, was a trim less opening, a short flight of stairs that led up to the personal bedrooms.

"I can't smell nothing," Nightwing stepped forward, pulling his head back slight to his shoulder while keeping his beady eyes on the kitchen entrance, "but I think Cassie's working on something in the kitchen."

Supergirl lunged forward with an arm, clasping it upon Nightwing's shoulder, pulling him back before he could step any further, "Where do you think you're going?" she called out with much concern, the same feeling that filled her eyes when Nightwing turned his head back sharply to look at her.

"To bother Cassie," Nightwing grinned, "If I'm going to be ghost for all eternity, what better way to spend it than to annoy your housemate till they join you," he shook away her hand, nodding at her puzzling scrunched up forehead and lips before proceeding to make good on his ambitious if not totally inane quest in this after life.

"Look Todd," Supergirl shook away the puzzlement that clutched her face and made good on following the headstrong attitude, "we don't have a lot of time, in fact we don't have time at all, not for these games," her tongue became more stern within the finality of her words, "Mary is under that Warlock guys control. We have to save her before something bad happens to her!"

"You won't let me enjoy flying," Nightwing snapped off, "and now you won't let me spend my time irritating Cassie for all eternity?" he turned around sharply, layering one knee over top of the other to keep his feet relatively centred with the kitchen entrance, "anything else you'd like to control super-"

"Watch it," Supergirl lowered her head slightly all while keeping her eyes narrowed in on him. Her hands held to balls of flesh, fists waiting to unleash their powerful force causing Nightwing to step back a bit in fear, such a belief not being held for particularly long, not when considering their current state of existence.

"What are you going to do?" Nightwing slipped into twirl of cynicism and sarcastic glee, turning himself fully around to confront her, "hurt me?" he shook his head around, attempting to catch the eyes of the girl of steel but could only get the light glint as she looked away at every conceivable moment, "I can't fly on my own. I mean, look what I've got to work with," he pulled up his left foot, flexing his fingers around his shin just above the flapping rings of his boots, shaking it around along with the slight hopping of his right leg to keep himself steady, "yeah it's amazing…but it's not the same," his foot fell back down to the floor with a thud, "do you have any idea what it's like to have to watch everyone around you, everyone in your family, take off into the air like it's natural…meanwhile I've got to make sure that my boosters are clean and that the fuel injectors are adequately greased," he shook down his body with resentment, throwing off his sights from her for only a moment, "and then when I use them I have to clean and check them over again and over again. Do you have any idea what it's like to have to think about cleaning when you're in a life or death situation?" his hands slammed up against the side of his head, trailing down slowly bringing down his full face mask down in folds.

"No…"Supergirl spoke the lone word through a hush.

"Well then," Nightwing shirked his shoulders, "then let me have my fun." He turned around to face the Kitchen room entrance this time fully intending to make it within without the slightest of hesitations or stops brought out by the clutching hands of Supergirl; he was just going to plough right on through.

"But there's just…there's a lot going on right now," Supergirl lunged out after him once again but never did quite get her hand to land solidly on his shoulder as he carted himself into the kitchen at a pace she could not match with a single jump, "Mary needs my help, our help," she cried out with hopes of swaying the boy back to the task at hand.

Nearly dividing the kitchen area in half was a counter, its far side being connected firmly with the broad side wall immediately viewable from the entrance way, the two walls running parallel to each other. Its movements across the centre came to an abrupt stop just under a metre short of hitting the opposing broadside wall thus allowing a walking space around its four foot wide top. A smooth plate of pearl white stone made up the exterior sidings of the counter and was capped off with an inch thick spread of marble blue coloured hard plastic plating, all coming together to rise up at about stomach height. This kind of counter arrangement continued along the far broadside wall into the far back corner before crossing back along the back wall so as to run parallel with the dividing counter first described. Along the course of the counter was a deep basin white coloured sink in the portion along the broadside as well as an electronic powered stove set firmly entrenched within the back wall that was most notable for its distracting dark shade. Overhead, trickling down from the ceiling, were similarly designed cupboards that ran the full outstretch of the counter top, the doors that open around their sides being considerably less solid with glimmering jigsaw lined windows being a typical norm, fitting within a rectangular frame that while giving away the green jaded colours of the plates and glasses stored within on the selves, heavily distorted the overall images, a stack of plates seeming to be entirely mishandled in such a basic bottom on top placing.

Upon stepping in, Nightwing could not help but focus upon Cassie whom was nestled up tightly against the stove, hovering her head overtop a large two foot high round steel pot, the acts of boiling causing a significant stream of ghastly grey coloured steam to rise above and layer themselves within the rung of her eyes bringing her to tears. She was a tall woman, nearly three heads taller than Nightwing and all the more so muscular, a given thanks to her excellent god like genetics and physical education. Her clean blonde hair was cut short and her eyes were a deep seeded dark blue, a fitting match by all accounts. She wore black pants adequately fitting to a business suit, well ironed and well fitted to the bulk of her legs to allow adequate spacing in-between skin and fabric while around her upper body was a button up short sleeved tropical red shirt that capped off with a thick collar. She would from time to time hover away from the stove for a brief second, giving space to the steam to rise beyond and into the bottom of the surrounding cupboards, looking over to the wax like cutting board which among the many cut lines of short death were a variety of cut up vegetables; the sweet slices of red tomatoes, the curving forms of green peppers, the strips and topping green bulbs of asparagus and broccoli, all of such and more in varying amounts, her hand occasionally clasping and few to pull off the stick of the board and dropped into the cooking stew.

"I was unaware that Cassie cooked," Supergirl slipped into the kitchen, immediately lining up outside the square formed by the counters, the front side of the centre dividing counter where Nightwing was already just further down the way, joining the boy in staring at the backside of his caretaker.

"She doesn't," Nightwing shook his head in a negative manner. He hummed a little with intrigue as he ventured through the counter on a collision course with Cassie, his body wadding through the pearly white walls and marble blue top with a suave personality to his movements, "I wonder if I can possess her body…you know like Deadman."

"Dead who?" Supergirl's question did not hold its curiosity for long, quickly snapping free of the state with a small jittery shake of her head, "don't even try," she asserted herself before sharply recoiling her stern demeanour with a silent gasp. The threat of her strength against him had failed to leave an impact and she just beginning to feel its bite, "please…" she finished off with some uncertainty falling from her lips.

Todd stepped around to Cassie's side just as she was peering into the pot, sifting her eyes through the gases to get a view of her boiling stew, the vegetables tipping into one another with the most delicate of budges. He wondered for a moment, if he believed in its solidity enough, could he jiggle the pot? Push it way from the flaming pad beneath with cruel intentions of sending strings of fear up her spine? But just as his hands were preparing to descend upon the pot he paused, distracted by the glint of her eyes, the haphazard grin that fanned out the wrinkles along her pristine complexion. His hands suddenly dropped down to his sides with a chest relieving sigh. He sunk his ear against the shoulder closest to the stove, leaning around best he could in order to catch as much of Cassie's face as possible. She held tightly onto the end of a wooden spoon, circling it around with a drag along the pot's bottom, creating the fluctuations reminiscent of a twisting screw in the rising steam; it was clear in her eyes, what she was creating was marvellous. "She may not be a very good cook, but I know she's trying," he looked over to Supergirl with a grin, "the only reason she's trying so hard like this is because of me," he nodded affirmatively as he turned around, back to the centre counter, "I've never had that before."

A sharp ringing noise broke into the room, the kind most readily associated with that of a mobile phone. Instantly Cassie shook away her hold on the wooden spoon, pulling out from her position over top of the pot to look over to the counter space on her left side where the small palm sized rectangular item sat, hopping atop the surface at crude angles along with a jittery glee of unpleasant ear deafening beeps. Its top was a smooth glassy screen surrounded by a trim of silvery metal that bent around with a curve to form its solid base. She slipped her fingers below the curve, pressing her way through till the mobile phone became firmly attached in her palm. Slipping her thumb overtop of the clean glassy surface, a blue glow strike up, pulling through the previously held empty black screen. Nightwing crossed in behind her, looking over to Supergirl as he backed away towards the entrance way leading back into the hallway, passing by the edge of the dividing counter line where he stopped back at Supergirl's side.

"Yes?" Cassie's voice rang clean as she turned around almost as though she knew the two were there, watching her. Sufficiently away from the stovetop, she leaned against the counter top, left arm drawn against the breadth of her stomach while her right hand maintained its position over top of her ear, cellphone in hand, "Diana?"

"Mom?" Supergirl gasped.

"I think it's time we got going," Nightwing pleaded with a calming tone.

"Yeah, thanks for returning my call," Cassie's façade of happiness died down, giving way to the growth of curiosity that had been writing its way into her mind for the past few weeks, "yeah…it's about Todd," she nodded for the benefit of herself, "no its fine, I don't mind taking care of him, it's just that I've become worried about him as of late and no…it's not about him being out at night during most of the week," she held up a deep breathe from falling free of her nostrils, eyelids beginning to drop lowly by her eyes but only achieving about halfway, "I suppose this has more to do with me than at the moment, it's just that something's I've heard him say, they make we question whether or not he's really from around here," she rolled her eyes after a brief silence of her views, taking in the information on the other end, "I always believed what she told us, I can't imagine what it's like to lose a child…but well, he's alive and according to him, she couldn't care less. I've been trying to get a hold of her but I can't get any reception…" she paused for a few moments, "still? Well fine," she sternly nodded for the benefit of herself, "regardless though, I'm the one expected to take care of him and there's this issue of abandonment…he's told me that she knowingly abandoned him," she gulped, "and forgive me for saying this, but I think he meant it."

"Come on," Nightwing attempted to reach up for Supergirl's shoulder, "we've got something to do remember."

"Just wait a second," Supergirl threw up her hand, slowly slapping down through the air with its open face in Nightwing's direction all while continuing with her intent watching of Cassie's lips form words, widening her eyes as she too delved into the mystery regarding her adoptive cousin, "what are they talking about?" she quickly locked eyes with the boy.

"I talked to Wayne the other day [NW#6]," Cassie continued, tightening the grip of her left arm around her stomach, "he either doesn't know anything about him prior to two years ago and next to Tim, he's the greatest detective I know. You'd think that he would have been able to pull something on him. If he has, he certainly doesn't want to talk about it," she paused several seconds. She sighed with an oncoming wave of disheartening disbelief, "I don't want to believe it any more than you do…but I think she's been lying about him all this time," she shook her head, "I know there are birth records and certificates but I can't help but feel there's a lie within it all. I just want to know where he came from…I want to know the truth. I was surprised as anyone when he suddenly appeared, but I mean, he's one of us right?" she gulped, "it's seems that the both of you have been actively distancing him from yourselves, shovelling him off as a responsibility to friends and family like he's some sort of problem…no wonder he seeks to move in with the bat-clan, he certainly can't stand us," she paused once more following her statements of increasing anger, allotting time to Diana's rebuttal but appeared downright disturbed by the words heard, "you've got to do more than just remind him that he's your nephew, that's not the sister I know. He talks about you two like you're not even real…."

"Come on Lara," Nightwing pressed his plea but the girl did not budge.

"Like we're some kind of comic book characters," Cassie words hit Supergirl hard with a dose of intrigue, instantly causing her to think aback to a moment, a time, in which this was indeed the case, counting at least one time while in the graveyard together; 'I know I didn't read much of your mother's stories when I was younger' is what he said.

"What's this all about?" Supergirl's jaw dropped.

Nightwing dropped his hand on her shoulder, pulling her away from her thoughts to focus upon him, "Lara," he was stern with his words, unflinching with his eyes, "we've got something that we came here to do."

"Alright," she whispered dryly, bowing her head a little as a sign of her understanding.

"My spare mobile is in my room," Nightwing hopped back out the kitchen entrance way with a breezy cheer, turning his back on Supergirl as he ventured a turn around the corner to face the short steps into the hallway that contained his room at the very end on the left side, directly opposing Cassie's master bedroom. "Come on," he jeered as he fluttered away up the stairs with only the tips of his toes tapping the surface.

"Todd is that you?" Cassie saddled the phone over top of her shoulder for a moment, leaning in her head towards the wall, Nightwing on the other side making his way down the hallway, "it's nothing," Cassie shook her head as the phone returned to her ear, "I thought he just got back home…" the final words Supergirl heard as she turned the corner, her eyes ever so engaged with Cassie's, filled with heartbroken concern.

Supergirl stepped up the stairs like any normal non-ghost person would, keeping her head up high to get a full perspective of what lay ahead, increasing the viewable range with ever subsequent step. The lights were currently off thus giving an almost aquatic feeling to the deepened shade of blue that traversed the both sides of the hallway, the fullness of a surrounding effect being dramatically cut short by the usual planks of clean varnished wood that made up the flooring, filling in the path side to side with their tight grips together. On her right side she passed along a closet space and a steely slide across door, on her left were two more of these doors, spaced well against one another on the wall before providing a significant distance till the final door near the end of the hallway, Cassie's room. Nightwing was already at the end of the hall by the time she concluded her final step, back up against the wall with a crooked smile on his face. Opposite Cassie's room was his own and when Supergirl looked down the way to him, the boy darted at the door, phasing through it with his ghost like abilities causing her some brief stun before realizing that she shared in with that ability though shared within the privacy of herself some jealousy in the fact that Todd was so adapt to such powers while she could barely muster up the confidence to expand the reaches of her imagination without first seeing someone do the feats before her, after all, was it not her father whom first flew over Metropolis or Nightwing whom first phased through the apartment's front door?

Nightwing's room carried over a similar colour scheme and build with the rest of the apartment save that the floor was a cream coloured carpet with only an inch thick trim of wood running out the entirety of its rectangular perimeter. The broadsides lined up parallel with the hallway, the farthest out wall being notable as the outside wall of the building with a metre long window near to its centre that began at about stomach height of the average person and rose up to come just a few inches short of the ceiling. His bed was wedged up against the side wall to the left, its long sides fitting quite well against the room's smaller wall. Along the inner broadside wall and to the immediate left of the entrance way was the heavy oak dresser with several long drawers lining all the way up its form, standing at about one and a half metres in height, nearly a full head taller than any of the two young heroes. A flat desk top of a distilled creamy coloured wood filled lined beneath the window, its lighter tones being further modulated to glow by the creeping day light glistening through the cleanliness of the window. In the mind of Supergirl as she entered, this room could be so much cleaner, so much sharper than it was at the moment; in complete disarray. The floor was decorated with a myriad of clothes, black vests, dress pants, collared shirts and the like; it was as though the dresser was never used though its drawers were certainly open, sharing to all whom passed by their overfull capacity. Pages of books and papers with tightly drawn figures and scribbled words layered the desk top and occasional filtered down to the floor, while his cumbersomely large blue backpack nestled into the cushioning of his five prong swivel chair just begging to be tucked underneath the desk. The drawers that lined up the sides of the desk were just as bad, the grey coarse painted fronts having been pulled out to reveal the white insides of their basins as well as the variety of tossed away computer junk and well-worn cardboard boxes. Piles of assorted articles of clothing lined the small wall opposing the bed side, perhaps covering things that had not seen the light of day in weeks. The only thing that was not completely disorganized was his bed, the heavy blue top being adequately applied to the bed so its edges would not conflict with the floor. That said; it appeared he had never slept in it.

"How can you live in such filth?" Supergirl exclaimed, head zooming around the room to catch onto every facet, every detail, and every fold in clothing that existed in the room's collection.

"I like the classical feel of being messy, the untold adventures…plus," Nightwing waved out his arms and performed a full circle from his position at the centre of the room with a smile, "the room I had when I lived with Dick was a lot bigger…" he contended with an ease from his ecstatic tone. A hand suddenly shot to the corner of his head the moment he stopped, becoming buried down with his surroundings, "I guess it could stand for a bit of cleaning but well…" he pulled down his hand to join in opposing his other hand across his stomach line, ready to clap, "I'm not used to being so tight," he circled his fingers around as though prepared to grab hold of a ball, letting his fingers jitter around in their stationary position before finally colliding together with a pop.

"The RA in my dormitory would flip if she found my room this dirty," Supergirl continued in her tirade, "and what are you talking about? This room is a big as mine and I have to share it with someone else."

"You still bunking with Mar'i Grayson?" Nightwing kicked away at a bundle of darkly coloured clothes on the ground ahead of him, eventually leaning down with the bulk of his knee collapsing so as to allow his hands to pick away at the clothes all while keeping his bat ear peaked up straight, open white slots focussed on Supergirl.

"Yeah," Supergirl responded with a nod.

"Well no worries then," Nightwing chuckled as he finally brought his head down to the pile on the floor, working his hands through a pair of sleek black pants, ripping around to the sides where the pockets curved out from the belt line, "when she was at that girl's school of yours I turned her room into my personal closet…" he looked up briefly to her, "she didn't even notice when she came home," he contended with a smile.

"That's hard to imagine," she smirked with sarcasm. There was something on the desk that had caught her attention, the shine of something glossy partially buried in the stack of otherwise plain papers. She barely looked down when she weaved her way through the mess of personality, reaching for the desk with hopes of fulfilling her curiosity.

"I've got it," Nightwing clambered his hand around the palm sized device, leaving the pair of pants to drop to the ground, crushing into its colleagues on the floor with the characteristic slapping sound of heavy fabrics. His mobile device was rectangular in shape and shared very much a similar design to Cassie's phone; a glassy topped surface embedded within a surrounding case, his being blue rather than the silver sheen of hers. He articulated his thumbs along the screen pulling up through the shine of electronic black the blue geometric shapes that formed the falcon, his emblem. "My source has completed the image of the amulet," Nightwing started up into an informative tone though still continuing with his cheery attitude well intact, "not that we didn't know what it looked like already," he winced his eyes before shaking away the stupidity from his mind, "anyway, hopefully we can figure out what its used for or where it came from…."

The glossy print fell out from the haphazardly stack about an inch, creating a ledge that bowed down on a curve, blocking out the bottom rungs of paper sheets with its strike of straight lined red colours. Supergirl stepped up to the edge of the desk, bypassing the glow of the daylight to get a full unabated look at it. Intending to pull it out of the stack of white papers, she reached out to grab it with both hands by its corner edge but the moment her hands came upon it they slipped through as though they would have done through anything else, tracing her wrist down through the three centimetre bulk of papers to line her wrist up with the wooden desk top. She lightly groaned when she looked over her shoulder, seeing Nightwing to be holding up the mobile device with ease. "I wonder what would happen if Cassie walked in right now, saw this thing floating in the air," his words did little more than fuel the flames of jealousy she refused to acknowledge, writing it off as a onetime occurrence. She pulled up her hand to get it free of the desk and paper's grab before attempting again to grab hold of the glossy coloured sheet among the many, narrowing her eyes lightly while gnashing her teeth together, fully concentrated on her goal.

"Alright, the image on the amulet has been connected to the guy we met," Nightwing stepped up his informative drawl, dropping down one hand to the appropriate side of his body while the other continued to work away at the pad, scrolling down through the window of text, "hmm, well, Johnny Warlock was an enemy of Red Robin, the little cap with the face on it is known to be some kind of demon, its exact origins however are unknown. His powers have not been adequately gaged however of what we do now, he has the ability of flight, superhuman strength and durability," he coughed into a chuckle, "yep, definitely going to see that from leather face...Although not confirmed, he also has the ability to raise the dead and as we already know to be true, possesses people with his power and bring them under…his…influence…" his voice trailed with a sullen empty edge, eyes wandering away from the information etched into his device and up to Supergirl whom managed to finally grab hold of the sheet, ripping it free of the pile and holding its full size, that of being of just being over three inches in length and two more upon that in height; a solid pocket picture that was certainly well worn from most likely having been in such a place for long periods of times, wrinkled all throughout yet still nonetheless a strong card. She held it in both her hands, fingers curling together at its bottom centre with thumbs pressing at the centre, flexing up to give it a backbone so it would stay upright.

"When was this taken?" Supergirl pulled her head up from the photograph. Todd, Nightwing's alter ego, was one of the central persons depicted in the picture, albeit at a much earlier date in his life, appearing as though he were closer to the age eight. He had moderately long silky black hair that waved out into curls over his ears while being delicately combed away from front of his face. He had the largest of eyes, beautifully orchestrated ocean blue tints that appeared to increase in depth with the hunch of his lined black eyebrows. He was smiling in this picture, all rows of perfect teeth with the cheek bones moving accordingly to match the curving of his lips; he looked truly happy there, sitting with hands over what looked to be a picnic table, its covering cloth notable for its checker like candy cane feeling, the straight crossing lines of red overtop of a sheen of white. It was a beautiful day in the park, trees in full bloom with streamers running through their branches in a great many array to their colours thus providing an atmosphere that was outright cheery. What had attracted much of Supergirl's attention was the figure draping her figure over top of Todd, one hand over top of his shoulder while the other slumped around to reach for his forearm. She was smiling just as he was, complete with long life filled black hair and the deepening feel of her blue eyes. The woman was someone she recognized quite well, indeed someone whom she admired and respected.

"Red Robin was said to have cracked the amulet into a series of piece," Nightwing quickened his pace, returning his gaze onto the device, reading its information with fluent understanding before espousing it in short form, "all of which were lost…but I guess that cult we encountered has since recovered them when the museums that had found them all."

"Is this what Cassie was talking about?" Supergirl roamed her hands around the sides of the photograph, letting it slump down to her stomach, "this…?" she wavered around a bit, pulling her chin down to one side of her chest before reassuming what she believed to be a proper discussion, "I was always told you were lost when you were a toddler…I didn't know."

Nightwing suddenly shot up a look to Supergirl, tightly holding down the flab of his cheeks against the curves of his individual teeth, holding a stern look in his eyes, "according to Red Robin's treatment on this guy, the more power that he uses the longer he has to wait to regenerate his strength. Since his body is dead he's probably going to need something to supercharge it back to full strength. You saw what he did to one of the cult members…sucked the life force out of her," he affirmed with a tightly kept nod, "I bet you that's what he plans to do to Miss Marvel."

"I don't think I've ever seen her smile like this," Supergirl brought to photograph up to look at, "not like this anyway…we fought a hydra together last week," she smirked, "it was kind of fun. We make a really good team."

"But if we're going to break through that magical barrier," Nightwing stammered through in his rapid pace, "then we're probably going to need our bodies back," one last slide of his thumb and the electronic device fell blank. Satisfied, he tossed it back on the bed.

"I suppose I always aspired to be like her," Supergirl went off into her zone of content, "even more so than my father. She was always so perfectly put together, wise and collective." She dropped the photo back down to her stomach level, taking a few light sniffs of the air, achieving nothing by way of smell but nonetheless brought a force of strength that built up in her upper body, "all this time I've had it out for you because I thought that you had hurt her somehow. It was never easy for her losing another child. I didn't even know about you till you were found, I was less than two years old at the time…It's just that when you were found alive," she stuttered along into her final word, "she's just so motherly and you seemed just so arrogant about yourself, stuffing her love back in her face like you didn't want her. I couldn't believe it," she peered down at the photo one last time, "I can't believe this."

"Look at me," Nightwing stepped down to a harsh whisper. He flipped back his cowl, grasping at the neck line to tear away the second skin over top of his head to reveal the later day Todd; it had been several years since the picture had been snapped but not much had changed, "those eyes, that smile…" he gulped with eyes weakly attempting to hold onto Supergirl's, "she's a great deal of many things….but I'm," he shook his head away, falling into the desire to look away, "she won't even acknowledge that I'm her son."

Supergirl let out a heavy breath, calmly pulling up the photograph and lightly putting it face down on the pile of papers, "so why," she stuttered, "why do you have this then?"

Todd let his head fall down but it was in this slump that he suddenly began to hear something, not an audible trace but something inching in through his mind, pulling through the continuous lapsing of memories to be at the forefront of his thinking, speaking a single line that was clear and unchanging, "do you hear that?" he raised his head up, finding a similar puzzling look cross over Supergirl's face.

"Is it saying Lara Kent?" Supergirl gasped.

"No, no," Todd shook his head, placing the extension of his fingers along the sides of his skull, "its saying my name." His hands suddenly dropped down from his head as he proceeded to rush up to the window, levitating his feet up the invisible stairway to get airborne. His feet began to trail out back to make his body somewhat flat with the exception of his head which contorted upwards, placing his line of vision just underneath the top line of the window frame, "there's something out there, calling us," his eyes wavered from side to side. "Come on," he briefly looked back to Supergirl before barrelling through the window, sifting through it with his ghostly might.

"OK," Supergirl rocked her body, using her ankles as the fulcrum, "I can do this…still?" with a step onto the desk, she leaped out from the confines of the room, soaring through the solid pane with ease to join her colleague in the air.

* * *

It was a perfect day for flying, not that Nightwing would be found contending it to be anything else but. Whether it was snowing, raining or any other number of weather systems that would certainly have impacted visibility, he would have flown through it if he had the ability to do so without mechanical aid. The clouds over head absorbed the powers of the sun and spattered them around their full blanket of white tipped hues making for quite the balance of light all throughout the city, allowing if it will for a day longer the opportunity to grace the streets before it be time that they unleashed their load of water, changing from their soft touch of happiness and into the heavy thunderous rolls of rain. Nightwing tried desperately to reach for the ground, pleading internally to his being for a chance to roam down just overhead of the walking pedestrians that dotted the sidewalks, to make well known his newfound ability of flight, the youngest of the few whom was now joining the high flying heroes that had come before him. The feelings of victory would no doubt have been lost since he knew full well that while his ghost like state provided for this ability it also had the drawback of not being seen nor feeling the power of the terminal wind velocity against his body, but his imagination was always at its peak of efficiency and simply the ability to fly was something in of itself even if it was only his adoptive cousin whom noticed him; a high flying hero herself, the intense feelings of rage she appeared to have over someone join her in the stars was enough to fuel his cheery attitude.

Every attempt to plummet towards the ground was followed up by a stronger hit of the two hero's respective names, embedding into their minds and continuing to drill itself deeper with every passing stroke forward. The constant repetition of their names felt to be a telepathic homing device even if neither of the two could fully recognize the concept, it was drawing them onto a path already set out for them but nonetheless making them feel as though they were in complete control. At some invariable point every other thought that did not fall upon the returning proposition of their names was quickly forgotten; memories, beliefs, love and knowledge in general was ripped free of its line, derailed and placed once more on the path they could not soon forget.

Nightwing was quick to give up on overcoming the pulsating strikes of his name, the amount of love that he allotted to himself was not extended to anything beyond his role outside of being Nightwing and that certainly wasn't whom the voice in his head was calling upon. It appeared that no matter how hard he attempted to think about himself as Nightwing, the reality of whom he was in name alone would work its way to the forefront of his existence. He clenched down his teeth, closed his eyes and waved out his arms like a birds wings and allowed the calling to take him away above the rooftops. Now unable to see the world that he soared above mixed in with the emptiness of feeling in the currents of air, the ability to fly was no more enjoyable than being laid to rest on a mattress made of clouds save that for time being the headache caused by the repetition would not allow him sleep.

Supergirl followed on a flight line directly behind Nightwing, soaring through to the heavens as she had been used to for the larger half of her teenage life though unlike Nightwing, she fully recognized the loss of feeling that this ghost like state implicated upon her, never once gaining that unbelievable thrill that came from the wind pounding in its sheering strength against her body. Her eyelids began a steady descent to close, the fight against the pained caused by the overbearing beat of her name proving to be unbearably strong for her mind to handle; when thoughts of a different kind sought an upfront approval of her being, they were near instantly lost in the engrossing involvements of her repeated name.

And then without warning or degradation in pace or girth, the pulsating drum beat that was the burden of their names met its end. "Children," a slippery deep voice beckoned, the grovelling depths of the word's echo seemingly coming through a hollowed out throat, "I have grave need of your knowledge," the coarse voice continued like a strong controlling wind of whispers, the kind to be felt if standing to near to the source's gullet.

Almost simultaneously, the two younger super heroes batted up a single eyelid, letting the blues of their eyes be viewable again to the light of day. Content for the moment, they let the ease of their second eye open before proceeding to stomp their feet against the ground, affirming their solidity against a surface. They were standing on a roof of a rather squared shaped tall building, obvious in that to either side of them they could only see the streaking down architecture of piled on windows embedded within the well-formed smooth stoned blocks of the surrounding buildings; everything above was cloudy sky. The roof itself had no railing to its domain, simply small pebbles and rocks littered all throughout giving it quite the loose grip when stood upon albeit unnecessary at the current moment. Though they were intrigued as to how they had gotten this far down the lanes of apartment buildings, corner stores and strip based shopping malls, their absolute attention was brought upon the figure standing with them, a person whom could see them and call out their names with full knowledge of whom they were.

The best descriptive element that either of the two heroes could pin down on the figure was that it was a moving skeleton; death having climbed free of its abyss to assume a form on earth. Its neck was considerably long and thin, this part of it being more so exemplified by the absence of strong shoulders, just curls inward of the torso leading into outer bulbs of bone that held the arms, gangly as they were, in place. A tattered and worn cloak sat overtop of its shoulders, sparsely covering its upper body with its multitude of holes while spacing out thinner as it reached below the ribcage, trailing down with few torn threads. It was unfortunate for the two standing with the skeleton that the garment failed to cover further beyond the ribcage for it became plainly obvious that this figure's stomach was missing, all there being was a poorly skin surrounded backbone with its multiple ridges on the verge of pushing through, a truly noxious sight that did not end there. Its wave like pelvis and articulated legs were exceptionally bare of any muscle, being as thin as the bones could be yet still covered wholesomely in its paling white skin that moulded to each and every ridge of the intricate works of bones that built the feet. In its left hand was a scythe, a long rod of wood that reached that reached up well beyond its head before curling out, forming only a quarter of a circle's perimeter before fashioning off into a black box fitted on the end going up, conforming out from the circular top to be something of a distasteful lantern, each side with a circle of white energy. Heading out from the black box was the razor sharp knife, a crescent shaped blade that nearly amassed four feet in length.

"Who are you?" Supergirl stepped up from the ledge of the building to encounter the figure with a façade of fearlessness while Nightwing placed upon himself no such act of character and instead slowly backed away with arms loosely flipping back and forth along his sides.

"I am Nekron," the skeleton like entity stamped the bottom of the staff into the pebbles that topped the roof, shaking them aside to get to the solid stone beneath which sounded off as a crack under the heavy hit, "father of the dead," the whispery tones faded into a cackle of amusement. The two young heroes could not help but keep themselves transfixed on the eyes of Nekron, small balls of white engrossed within the darkness of socket four times larger than was necessary to hold them. They appeared so sightless yet were somehow moving with a spacious roll whenever either of the two made movements with their feet.

"Did you do this to us?" Supergirl continued to prod, stifling down the shock of fear that threatened to leave her breathless and unable to speak, the fearless appearance cracking at the sides.

"That much is true girl," Nekron responded. It slid the bottom end of the staff behind itself, churning up the small pebbles into waves and wakes that created a pattering sound akin to rain while the blade in its glimmering black glory fell down to chest height, menacing the young heroes since the curvature lined up perfectly with their heads.

"Why?"

"The orders for your deaths was one of grave falsification," Nekron's voice slithered on with its hollow tastes, "the powers of magic have delved into my realm and extinguished your flames at the source and while it was there, it was most poised to take what was already mine, the dead…."

"The dead?" Supergirl lowered her head away from Nekron, unable to handle the sickening look of its body. She appeared to muzzle away at her own question, sliding her lower lip to one side while the top attempted to stay centre; she shook her head repeatedly.

"Johnny Warlock?" Nightwing stepped in, keeping himself visually squared with Nekron as he approached the deathly being, "he was trying to steal from you."

"That much is true boy," Nekron responded with a slight quirk to his neck, bringing its skull lower and at an angle that lined its chin to a shoulder, "I have given unto you to each knowledge of your spiritual selves, found your souls among the many passing through my realms and granted to them a small portion of my power if they so believe them to possess it…" he nodded to each of them, Supergirl only briefly looking back up to him with a wince, "you children…you truly have the willpower to rival my enemies, the green lantern corp…I shall have enjoyed the feasting of your spirits had it not been that I need them now."

"Uh, thank you," Nightwing pulled a hand around the back of his head and let its clasp slide down to the neck and away.

"What do you need us for?" Supergirl returned.

"Johnny Warlock has stepped into my realm with his demon's magic. He is not nearly as powerful as I, but he has taken into him a soul that feeds his power and should he take more from me than the more powerful he will become."

"The cult member he killed," Nightwing nodded.

Nekron dragged the staff back up, following the path previous set by the drawing back though now under a harsh pressure that ventured towards cutting, "I have been through this world, I have talked to the souls whom have left and I am still unable to find him…he is hidden from my vision."

"The force field," Supergirl spoke up.

"And now you want us to tell you where he's holing up?" Nightwing questioned.

Nekron humbly bowed his head, "your deaths were the catalyst by which I found him to be seeking possession of my power…He knows not whom he deals with. No souls shall be ripped without my knowledge, especially in the forms of magic he has utilized and so I have prevented him thus far from going any further for I alone judge by which the souls pass. It is by the death of those whom power themselves through magic, absorbing their souls and magical essences, stripping me of what is rightfully mine," Nekron looked up to them, its eyes seemingly bounced, growing larger quickly before returning to their small orientation, "I will not allow him to take more than he has already gathered from my collection."

"What are you going to do to him?" Supergirl's questions continued onward as they passed through her mind.

"I shall take in hand his power," Nekron raised his free hand, allowing the long spindly fingers to open up widely space, "and destroy every ounce of him in existence where it may lay," the fingers slammed into each other, turning to a fist in a single blink.

"So you are seeking the return of your stolen power," Supergirl shot a look over to Nightwing, stern defiance all about her.

"So?" Nightwing shrugged, "it's not like we can fight Johnny Warlock. Nekron saved us so we could help put this demonic force to rest…all he wants in return is what was taken from him."

"Are you insane Todd?" Supergirl gawked in disbelief, "Nekron is evil…he amuses himself through murder and grows more powerful because of it. This is a literally a deal with the devil."

"I have no desire to be a part of this realm no more," Nekron cut in, gaining Supergirl's attention once more, "The boy speaks most truthfully. I only desire to have returned what power is mine and mine alone."

"He's at the M.W. Barr Cemetery," Nightwing huffed, looking around Supergirl to catch onto the skeletal sockets, "the back lot within the forest…."

"Todd!" Supergirl snapped.

"Think of this my dear lady," Nekron pulled its scythe to line up the centre of its body, clutching it with both hands and inching its head closer to the pole, "I have saved you from your deaths for this knowledge…I may not be willing to do so next time." a moment of silence eclipsed, the two young heroes swearing to themselves that they could see the piles of teeth in Nekron's jaw shape into a mile. The scythe reassumed a position at Nekron's side, "Now, I will return you to your bodies…." And with that line, the lantern at the top of his staff beamed out from the circle points on each side, everything becoming white in a blinding flash.

* * *

It was unimaginably dark. It was impossibly cramped. Two deep seeded fears that played on top of each other the moment Supergirl awoke from her time in the false hoods of the afterlife. Each successive breath turned to heavy panting, her chest being firmly impacted against the body of another below her, lifting her up and down at an increasing rate, knocking her backside against something solid and heavy overhead. All she could hope to do was wildly toss out her arms, and find some support for herself. Out straight to her sides she felt the firmness of walls less than a foot away from her shoulders making the full extension of her arms an impossible feat. She silently prayed to her gods that the body she laid upon was not one that was long since deceased. Unaware of whom it was below; she smashed her hands along the body's shoulder blades, slipping off the edges to land on the flooring.

"Ou, ou!" the recognizable voice of Nightwing sung through the cramped airspace, affirming that they were indeed sharing a coffin. Though it was Supergirl that felt the most of her fears in such an enclosed space, it was Nightwing that was the most cramped, cemented against the ground with the weight of her body on his chest.

Supergirl attempted to keep herself up as best she could from colliding into him but the low rise of the so called ceiling made it difficult to keep above him in flight and with thus with the levelling of her breath out, the fear subsiding, she lowered herself upon him with a dissatisfied grunt, turning her head away best she could from collided into his. "Well then," she started up with a fair share of sarcasm, "every boy's dream…" but rather than receive the acceptance of her weight upon him, she got a face full of light-hearted slaps, not that he wasn't trying to inflict pain upon the girl of steel. Over and over again, full faced palms fell from their collision on her forehead, stretching down to her cheeks with a rapid succession of hits following.

"Get off of me," Nightwing cried out. He attempted to raise his head and pulling himself backwards but continuously ran up against the inner pillow of the coffin, its thick cushioning being responsible for elevating him further as he approached what he believed to be the back wall. "Don't touch me," he screamed with one last steady hit to Supergirl's face, clawing around at her jaw and pushing upwards but quickly proved unable to make her budge.

"Great Hera, will you stop?" Supergirl whipped her right arm around overtop of Nightwing, layering her forearm against his neck, pushing up his chin in the subsequent push down, "what is wrong with you?"

"You and your deprecating view of who I am," Nightwing retorted with a heavy swing of his head upwards. With a relinquishing grunt, his arms came to lay out flat at his sides while his head lightly fell back into the plush pillow that was layered within the coffin. The blue falcon logo on his chest began to light up like neon, creating a rather bizarre atmosphere of air around them most notable for the small indistinguishable dots of sand and dirt that was light enough in weight to float through the air and tickled the tongue with dryness. It was mostly in Supergirl that he found himself focussed upon. The lower portion of her body was firmly attached to his causing the light to glean up her chest showcasing the tints of her triangular 'S' crest as well as cast shadows off her planted arm and onto the acknowledge white quilt of the coffin's interior, "what is it with this hatred you have of boys? I thought you said you don't make such primitive judgments about people and yet you've already made up your mind about all boys being desirous of you all the time."

"Well I'm sorry if it doesn't sound all too familiar where I come from," Supergirl pressed a tad bit harder on Nightwing's neck with her forearm, "you know who I am, what I've come from…all I ever am is objectified. A girl trying to play the biggest role in the man's sandbox, and I'm supposed to expect that you understand what it's like to be me because of our familial relations?"

"You know ever since we met all I've ever done was try to be nice to you," Nightwing swiftly contended, "and you just couldn't believe it was because it was for niceness sake, there had to be some ulterior motive."

"You dishonoured my people that day, so yes, I say there was!" Supergirl barked back.

"What? By being who I am?"

"No," Supergirl continued, "It was all your small minded insinuations about the way in which Amazons lived and had relations with one another!"

"It was just a question!" Nightwing shouted while attempting to pull up his chin, wiggling around as much as possible to get away from the increasing pressure that Supergirl placed upon him, "you dropped me mid-flight," he narrowed his eyes up into hers, the scowl of hers draping over him with all its ferocity.

"Stop crying boy," Supergirl levelled in with scorn, "you would have been fine."

"WE WERE TWELVE STORIES ABOVE GROUND! I CAN'T FLY!" Nightwing's last cry shattered the small coffin space into silence. With words put on hold, the sounds that soon grew to take up in echoes were the reverberating sound of heartbeats trying to sift their way in sync with the calming of breaths. The look of resentment in their eyes suddenly began to fade away with Supergirl pulling her arm away from the chokehold when she believed an understanding had been reached between them. "Your right," Nightwing turned an ear to the pillow, shaking out his body for comfort now that the pressure for the most part was off, "I don't understand…what's so hard about being Supergirl?"

"Because he's not here anymore," Supergirl let out a relieving sigh, slowly allowing the stress built up in the awkward placing of her elbows to decline, lowering herself against Nightwing, the boy being reluctant but still enabling her do so with minor discomfort, "I lived on Themyscira for the first fifteen years of my life….He visited me only once and while and I only came to see him here once every year." She shied away with a heavy sniff, "when I heard that Brainiac had attacked Metropolis and that he was taking a beating, well, I had to be there for him. I worked up the courage to join him in this world for good, to be a part of the battle for justice as he always proclaimed. I wanted to be a beacon of hope just has he had. We laid that monster to rest."

"I was there," Nightwing muttered under his breath.

"With both Brainiac and Darkseid dead he only need worry over Luthor," Supergirl pulled her head overtop of Nightwing, snapping her glare into Nightwing beneath, "he built up Metropolis in his own image and stole everything my father had from under his feet…he's locked away in the phantom zone now," she shunned away.

"So that's good though, right?" Nightwing questioned with uncertainty.

She shook her head with a disturbed bite of her lips, "With nothing left for him on earth…he left for the stars, becoming the hero of an unimaginable amount of people stretched across the billions of galaxies and worlds."

"He's done his part for the Earth," Nightwing contended, "he's helped us to become dependent upon ourselves; we don't need him as much as we used to, we've got each other. It would be irresponsible of him to not help where he's needed most."

"I'm here Todd…" Supergirl sharply stated, clearly enunciating each word, "I need him." Nightwing gulped a little, the first time he had heard her speak with such depth and meaning, "I was here for no longer than a month before he decided to leave. He left me the farm…the place I spent every Christmas, as if the memories there somehow make it OK for him to leave me here. I'm a part of his family as much as I am a part of my mothers and yet he'd rather her raise me solely on her own; I wear his shield but sometimes I think that's all it is to him."

"Well it doesn't have to be like that," Nightwing rubbed the back of his head into the pillow, re-shifting his body into a more comfortable position, "just be Wonder Girl, that's not that far of stretch."

Supergirl lightly planted her chin at the centre of Nightwing's chest, dividing the emblems emanating glow, "I don't want to be Wonder Girl…" she stressed, "I want to be Supergirl," she asserted herself. "Kara, the Supergirl before me, I always loved her…she was there when my father wasn't. Oh Hera, have I missed her."

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know really," Supergirl stared blankly ahead, caught up in the deep thread lines that brought about the cushioning diamond shaped pads that struck out from the coffin's walls, "she sacrificed herself, stopped a solar system from imploding on itself," she nestled her chin down, rubbing it from side to side, seemingly fighting back the tears with a heavy gulp, "she was there for my father when he fell apart, when he needed someone, more so than my mother…and when she died I did everything I could to be just like her," she sighed, "but by the time I came around to join him, I guess he didn't need someone anymore. I've been left to patrol Metropolis on my own and I know what people see," she returned to snarling, "some girl with an 'S' shield trying to replace a man whom could move mountains. What are they supposed to think of me? I can't take on cosmic entities, gods or…demons…" she slowed down towards the end of the list, slurring the final rung on the list as she raised her head as high as she could, knocking her head against the coffin lid. She took a heavy huff of air, "what did Nekron say about destroying Warlock Johnny?"

"He'll destroy everything that is him," Nightwing puzzled over the words, believing himself to be inching upon the same train of thought that Supergirl had found herself upon, "everything that his power had touched upon."

"Mary is powered by the magic of SHAZAM and Johnny Warlock invaded that magic and placed her under his influence," Supergirl beamed her eyes into Nightwing's, "Nekron's going to kill Mary." She swiftly planted her hands against the coffin's sides, "We have to get out here!" she shouted.

"Well why haven't we already if you can just push your way out?" Nightwing sounded off with a sarcastic flair.

"I don't know how much earth is on top of us, we could very well just get ourselves in a worse spot if something above collapsed onto of us," Supergirl retorted, "I thought you would have already called for assistance."

"I have," Nightwing replied at an instant, "but it's going to take time for them to locate us and dig."

"Alright," Supergirl took one last breath of air, "hold onto me." She dropped back down on top of him, awkwardly working her body around and over his, primarily shifting her arms around his back, weeding their way firstly under his arms before connecting in the back.

"OK," Nightwing weakly whispered with his arms reaching around Supergirl's back.

The materials that composed the coffin's roof began to crack, lines of considerable depth slicing through the thick surface where Supergirl's backside collided. She held her teeth down hard and grunted as she put all her might into her powers of flight and strength. Nightwing came into a bit of shock as he saw the thickest of the crack lines reaches its way overtop of Supergirl's lowered head , slicing lengthwise up the coffin piece cutting it in half. Trickles of dirt and soil seeped in through the crack lines, dark brown globules of rock being often a part of the mixture, adding upon the declining shape of the wood with their weight, slipping into the cracks and further dividing them. It was in this moment that he understood the hesitation of the super powered girl, what could have fallen upon them and most likely have killed him; she was taking the risk of his life to save the life of a friend and for strangest of reasons he found this to be respectable more so because she said she also was at risk of entombment though this clearly was not the case. His heels fell back to the ground as he began to rise up with her, the intense sounds of her grunts becoming ever more louder as the tightening jaw of hers became loose, splitting but still holding its hardened shape.

"It's a deep hole we've gotten ourselves in," Nightwing cheekily commented as he nestled his head into her neckline.

"Tell me about it," Supergirl grunted in response. "Hold on!" she cried, hands breaking their clasp around Nightwing and shifted them up to the side of her head, using the pivots of her wrist to lay them flat against what remained of the coffin lid, ready to make her defying push upwards.

It wasn't long till the coffin they had left filled with mounds of dirt, the sides having caved in with little to no fight; every push upward, every foot made, just seemed to make another less luxurious coffin for Nightwing to reside in till death, assuming he survives not being crushed. Darkness was the norm since the full reach of the blue shinning falcon could not be made out in the clutter of dirt that had befallen it, the rock filled soil playing havoc in his ability to hold on as though nature was willingly attempting to tear them away from each other. "Hold on I said!" Supergirl shouted as her right arm dropped from its carrying, wrapping it around Nightwing and drawing him back up tight to her chest thus forcing the muck in-between them to filter away at their sides.

Grass began to churn up on the surface, its long blades displaced at the roots and forced into the currents in the oncoming wind. the ground began to tremble, circling around towards one particular spots where a blunt end was just breaking ground, tossing away strips of wood and rock up through a hole no more than three feet in diameter.

The commanding fist of Supergirl plunged through the ground reaching for the sky, the long reach of her arm soon following. Her streak of blue hair had become cluttered with the dirt she had to fight her way through, the concern of beauty certainly not being on the top of her head as she clawed the rest of her way through pulling in right behind her Nightwing, the bat-boy whom had come to line his head along her stomach holding for dear life. Making her way a solid distance away from the ground below, she smiled in relief before letting herself naturally fall back down to the Earth giving Nightwing plenty of room to hop down from his grasp of her, a feat he fully obliged to with the dropping his arms. The two of them were back at the cemetery, surrounded by the twine of the metal fences on all sides with the high rise of apartment buildings shaping the sky line behind them, the funky coloured flat lying homes to either side of them that formed collective neighbourhoods outside of the city's reach, and of course, the world of stone construct crypts, the little homes that stored within them the dearly departed. Their target was beyond the crypts and their many ground trodden paths, it was well within the towering trees and their forests of fallen branches, bushes and shrubberies that they needed to be.

"Come on," Supergirl cried out as she landed to the ground, poised to sprint off into the region of crypts and beyond, "we have to get to her before Nekron does."

"Wait," Nightwing dove to get a hand around Supergirl's shoulder, using the strength gained from the sound clasp to stabilize his balance. "You can't just go in there…not like this," he pulled her back best he could but it was only when she allowed it that their eyes did meet, "he'll tear you apart, he'll kill you," he gulped, "again."

"That decaying corpse of leather is stuck in his throne of skulls; I'll have him dealt with before he knows what happened to him!" Supergirl snarled, shaking away Nightwing's light grasp on her shoulder with ease, itching for an unabashed turn towards her objective.

"So what then?" Nightwing beckoned for her to return. He tossed up his hands, straightening them out like pointers aimed towards the crypts, a solid shake of disbelief to their movements downward, "he'll use Miss Marvel against you, your own friend will tear you apart."

"I'm just as strong as she is, I can handle myself…" Supergirl huffed, "I have to do something even if it kills me!"

"Do something smart for once," Nightwing snapped, "we kind of know what this thing is, we know what it can do…we have to take what knowledge we have and use it to our advantage. Let's develop a winning strategy where no one has to die."

"I don't have time for this," she furiously responded, "you just don't get it do you," she shook head, "this is my responsibility…"don't you see? We're not as together as you think. I have to deal with Miss Marvel on my own…because I'm the only one that can!" Supergirl shirked her shoulders and started to march away, "That's just the way things are, that's how things were left for me…a solid hit on that decaying monster and everything will turn out fine."

"Please Lara," Nightwing pleaded but couldn't quite get the response he hoped for, "what kind of beacon of hope punches things till they go away?"

In a blustery furry of speed, Supergirl whipped around to face Todd and stretch up her hand around his throat, pulling him down with a force that made its displeasure well known in his knees, "don't pretend that you care about me, you're just some stupid boy with a bunch of toys, putting on a costume and pretending you're a hero," she fiercely kept her eyes within his, "let's make this straight and clear, you've caused more problems in your lifetime than you've ever fixed. It's no wonder your mother wanted nothing to do with you as a child, look at what you've become," she pushed upon his neck, tripping him over to the ground this time fully feeling the amount of force that came with impacting the dirt of the graveyard, "if you ever get stuck a hole again, don't be expecting me to be there to dig you out," she darted off for the small cliff rises and their crypts, "go home Todd. Cassie's always been keen to show pity to the weakest of us." And with the conclusion of that, she was gone.

* * *

Deep within the forest, well behind the crypts that made up the back lot of the cemetery, was a massive cliff face, a molten mass of brown goo and assorted soils curving upwards to a height that was at least double the size of the average person and spanned out a significant distance on each side. A foliage of green brown speckled moss slumped off the ledge, an assortment of twigs and fallen branch filling in-between its twisted mounds, keeping it tightly knit together while also retaining the heavier wooden piece from falling into the muck of stumps, bushes, fallen trees and globs of mud and soil in their wet constitution below. Trees with their impossible reach draped the sky above the cliff, the absence of fully leaf filled branches producing a hand like shadows, decking the ground with their grasps slowly shifting with the onset of the heavy winds. The moss, muck, branches and trees we're generally true through the stretch of the cliffs face, coming in for a brief stoppage spot at its apparent centre, where the face of the cliff was a most high.

Several trees that had fallen in the region, massive trunks of solid wood stretching well over fifteen feet, had been skinned of their branches and bark, ripped down to their creamy yellow colouration beneath where it was smooth and sweetly wet to the touch. Additionally, their top halves were cut of their peaking points thus giving a more well refines circular end from which the rings of age in their multitude could be seen. They were all laid down parallel to the line of the cave, their points being faced inward of each other with a distance of more than thirty feet of mulch and dirty black moist mud in between; a pathway. Lining up along the path, at the end of every tree, were less than smooth pikes, staffs protruding from the ground and carrying upon their top a high reaching flame of orange and red; they lit the way inward towards the primary attraction.

Here a solid stone mound outcropped from the cliff face, a straight cornered sided crypt akin to the others in the cemetery proper though considerably larger. There was something special about this particular crypt, aspects that separated it from the others that preceded it. Unlike them, this one was radically simple, lacking in any fashionable designs or surrounding fences, with a rooftop that was adequately flat to support what could be expected to fall from the cliff top; a plot of dirt and various small twigs that stretched out on a slope to nearly reach across to the front of it. The opening at its front lacked any sort of trim or blockage rather being deeply shaded within a foot step inward. Perhaps the door was unneeded however for standing immediately outside of the crypt in a half circle around it were several cult looking members, figures that wore robes of scarlet red blood that spared no harm in covering every integer of their bodies; the sleeves all the way down to their fingers as well as circling around the bottom of their toes, bordering upon the liability of tripping. A solid gold centimetre trim filled in the flowing ends of the hooded ensemble, cuffing at the end of the sleeves and around the curvature of the gown. They stood there with their backs to the crypt, their movements only being the effects of the winds on their thick garments, they appeared to be protectors of a sort but even on their strongest day they wouldn't have stood a match for the powerful force barrelling through them, a lined up bowling ball that reduced them to fodder as pins.

Supergirl unleashed a loud bellowing scream from the depths of her lungs as she rammed into the group of red hooded members with a trailing blue streak, a firm fist thrown up ahead and aimed at the gullets of the central member.

Collision was inevitable but the front and centre cult member only came to this realization one second too late; a single long held blink and her stomach went from mush to a feeling of numbness, the power behind Supergirl's fist being more than sufficient enough to deprive her of oxygen and bruise the spot it touched upon in an instance. Her head was the first thing to hit the ground, smashing into the dirt with a sizable spread impact creating a spattering halo; it was quite fortunate for her to land here, missing the cement floor of the crypt by less than a foot. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was the washing trail of blue overhead, the all too familiar 'S' shaped superman logo being taken with her into sleep. The teen super heroine had breached their meagre security and ventured into the home of death that they had sworn to protect, a failure they could not hope to possibly remedy and at the same time refused to live with.

"Supergirl?" Nightwing navigated himself through the assortment of fallen branches and trunks that layered along the outskirts of this region, untouched by the cult members for sure but so much so by the maddened rage of Supergirl, the part Kryptonian girl having caused quite the storming ripple of destruction in her wake. Every step was held to its own difficulty, the trunks moist with moss fell apart with the dropping of his heel against them, snaps ringing off in the hundreds as the twigs fell apart beneath his feet; it were the sounds of his movements alone, well before his shout out, that had drawn the attention of the still standing cult members upon him. Both feet lining up on an old rotted fallen tree about four feet up from the ground, he propelled himself ahead, collapsing its bark with a shrivelling crack in the process, landing to the floor of open clean dirt and mud that composed the wise spacing path between the rising flame torch tops and tree ends.

"This is impossible," a voice of one of the cult members sounded out. Her identity became known almost immediately, one of the farthest to the left, the second to the end. She threw her arms out wide like she was swimming, knees bending down lowly all keeping the ending appendages, hands and feet, well covered under the heavy scarlet cloths she wore, "their bodies had been returned to the earth…"

"The children no longer held breath," The front cult member to the right stepped up into the centre of the triangular point, replacing the fallen member. Her voice was stern though still shocked in disbelief, "their bodies had sunk into the Earth's bosom, taken in by the mother of life to become hers once more in death." All the cult members standing began to shift forward a bit, rising up their arms in the process in preparation to lay down whatever muscle they could upon the boy whom had been brought back from the dead.

Nightwing put forward a shoulder and took a heavy sniff of the air, feeling down his arm the straining of muscles as his fists began to form; it was going to be quite relieving to feel the pressure of their face's collapsing in his knuckles but he wouldn't smile, it still wasn't something to be enjoyed and he needed to move on from here as quickly as possible.

* * *

There was a cavernous hole underneath the cliff side, down the steps at the end of crypt that outcropped from its front face. It was a room damp in its most of its qualities; the floor being a notable exception for its earthly brown mixture was quite hardened, like stone to the passing heavy footed pace leaving no mark. It was adequately large, being near four times the size in both length and height than the stone building that marked its entrance. The side walls were rather crusty with a variety of roots seeping in through the thin cracks that deepened the authentic feeling of its less than chiselled formation; through the roof was similar in the like, there was little doubt that it could not hold the immensity of the cliff on its back, it had done so for so long and its reliance in light of the minor tremors caused by the encroaching cliff side only served to reassure any whom would venture inside of its fortitude. The only source of light was the extensive use of wood handled torches, three to the smaller walls at the sides pointing along with one on either side of the entrance way to this basement dwelling and two just like it opposing them along the wall that ran parallel to the cliff face.

Directly opposing the door frame, and sitting in between the flaming headed torches, was a well-crafted throne which assuredly would have been marvelled by a number of engineers had its components not been so realistic; bones from the dead had been gathered and wounded together with old twin to make a solid seat for their master to sit upon. Along the sides were what looked to be thick leg bones crunched together in their straight lines, making up a frame that was about four feet in height. A similar arrangement of bones made up the front though of a much smaller sort while the squared off backside was a monstrous collage of whatever scrounged up from the other crypts whether that be hands with associated finger bones in place, feet with each accompanying toe and of course, skulls in a myriad of different flattened conditions. But the horrid appearance of this tightly bound human bone chair in a damp torch lit environment paled in comparison to whom was sitting upon it. The man was lying slumped in the throne; the full length of the arms appearing as though they had been forcibly dragged along the crisp bones of the arm rests in an attempt to get each finger around the ends of the thick bone joints pieces that bounded together at the end. Legs likewise had been placed in a respectable formation but it appeared the havoc of not being alive caused the knees to invert inward of one another while the feet remained spaced out from another, staying consistent with the spacing of his broad shoulders. The head however had failed to maintain composure, the neck having been forced to bow outwards under its heaviness as it fell to an armpit. There was no clothing around this being for there was barely anything to cover; the man was nearly as skeletal as the bones that had comprised his throne, though with the exception of loosely fitting bleached brown skin that hung limply over such a spindly frame. The eye sockets were complete bare, blackened sightless holes, there were no lips around the slit of what could be determined to be a mouth, and there were no nails to his exposed fingers or toes, he simply was a rotting mass of long dead flesh and bones save for one special detail; the circular blood red cap that was embedded in the centre of his chest, the white coloured eyes and mouth ever so cheery looking. All in all, nothing of Warlock Johnny had really changed since last Supergirl was here, it was just as Nekron had said he had done and the frustration was beginning to show.

"No, why won't it work," the voice of the seated Warlock bellowed out with a heavy shot of air shovelling out from his frail frame; the deep sockets of his eyes reverberated in a deathly yellow light, breaking up with the beginning of the word before crashing into darkness upon its conclusion. Standing just slightly to his side, facing him down, was a Dark auburn haired woman. She wore quite the form fitting red suit that engulfed the entirety of her torso and stretched down along her legs and throughout her arm reach where the final cut off appendages were graced with white pieces, boots and gloves, with sizable cuff pieces that rose about an inch past the ankles and wrists respectively; it was a very fine fabric, silky to the touch yet so remarkably strong looking in its definition. Her eyes were a remarkably blue modelled after a solid facial structure, but of the most admirable features of her persons was what had taken up the curvature of her neck line and aimed downwards to her waistline, a solid gold bolt, a lightning rod with a width of about a foot across her chest while zigzagging downward twice before capping off to a long firm spiking point; she was Miss Marvel. "Come to me girl," the Warlock called out, "come unto me and give me your power, I have prepared so long to feast upon you and I am hungry after all my toils." A blustery wind fell into the room from the entrance way, Supergirl appearing with feet firmly in the ground just inside the room, looking past Miss Marvel's backside to stare down the sack of meat, "impossible," he sounded shocked with his moans, "I had sent you to your grave."

Supergirl rushed up to throne, right arm pulling back at the arching of her elbow, fist becoming tightly wound in preparation to land the decisive blow upon the Warlock's face and putting an end to the nightmare but just before she could make good on her rash decision, Miss Marvel turned inward of the throne and snapped her arm across the breadth of its front, raising it up sharply and taking Supergirl's ready fist with it. With Supergirl's left shoulder open, the powerful scarlet clad hero grabbed hold and completed a full twirl before releasing the young heroine away from the throne, tossing her back towards the entrance way. Unable to find her balance, Supergirl crushed her knees against the hard ground, scrapping along its surface for some distance before throttling upwards to her feet just in time to lock the back of her head directly on the corner edge of the entrance way, wincing in pain as she haphazardly balanced against it, earning herself sometime for recovery. With the relinquishing of her pent up rage, she dropped down to the ground and coughed slightly, "no matter," the Warlock's sickening voice butted back in, "I will have you returned to the depths of death once more…."

"How can you?" Supergirl raised her head, slowly getting up onto one knee, "I don't see anyone lining up for their life force to be sucked out of them."

"I was thinking this time, instead of consulting the magics I would attempt a more brutish form of killing…I want to watch you be beaten to death," the Warlock finished off with a cracking chuckle, Miss Marvel having stepped closer to the fallen Supergirl, holding out her arms straight to her sides with fists ready to go.

"Let her go now!" Supergirl snapped just before Miss Marvel shot up a kick with her left foot into Supergirl's gullet, raising her up to the top part of the door frame. The power of the blow broke a sizable chunk of the wall in addition to zapping Supergirl of her breath. She attempted to make her plea once through the sparse coils of air she gathered from quickly formed breaths on the way down but was instantly silenced by the oncoming force of Miss Marvel's raised knee, jutting up just under her ribcage and pulling ever so tightly towards her legs creating a fulcrum by which a successive damage could be dealt out like see-saw. Miss Marvel's hands sifted through the hairs on the back of Supergirl's head and throttled downward forcing the young heroine's face into the ground, her nose being the first to crunch against the hard surface. The elder heroine dragged her hands up to the back end of her head where the bulb of hair began, tracing her fingers up along the threads of her luxurious blue hair to reach into the tail created by the tight rapping red band, grasping tightly around it with both hands before pulling upwards upon it as far as she could. Supergirl's neck began to crunch as it was pulled backwards to its highest degree but it was when the relief came that the most damage was inflicted, her face being smashed once more into the ground. Over and over again, the process continued several times over with each time feasibly putting blood in the young heroine's mouth.

At long last, Supergirl decided to make her stand. With her head pulled up once more she slapped out her hand to grab hold of Miss Marvel's left boot, circling her fingers around the shin, and in an instant pulled it towards herself. Utilizing the unexpected pull to her advantage, she toppled over the towering woman with a hefty kick of her inner foot against Miss Marvel's right leg. She continued to push her second wind as far as it could go, smashing her fists into the ground to help her get up onto the strength of her own knees from which she drilled her head into Miss Marvel's stomach. With a warriors shout, she clobbered over Miss Marvel, forcing the elder heroine onto the ground from she prepared to unleash a volley of furious fists. Her punches connected multiple times with the woman's cheeks, pounding the skin into rubbery flakes that slipped around her skull; it was a position of dominance that could not hope to be held for too long. "Miss Marvel," she came to a stop, retracting her fingers from the palms in order to grasp around folds she created in Miss Marvel's costume just under her arms. She thought she had saw something in her eyes, a feeling of pain that was far unlike the experiences she had with her earlier in the day, but whatever it was that she saw whipped away into the wind as the fight took a turn for the worst. Miss Marvel levelled a punch up into Supergirl's stomach, stunning her long enough to slipped out from under her and grab hold of her weakened body. Sliding up through her arms, Miss Marvel dropped to a knee, taking Supergirl to the ground with her where she formed a chokehold around the young girl's neck, aptly applying just the right amount of pressure that bordered on snapping the neck. "Mary!" Supergirl grunted as she attempted to slip away, her consciousness beginning to slip away as her hands worked in vain to get the hulking mass of Miss Marvel's biceps to stop choking the life out of her.

It was in this moment that Supergirl was able to see the sleek black figure make an appearance, stealthily working his way around the fight to get in towards Johnny Warlock; Nightwing had arrived and he looked to determine to succeed where she had failed. He slammed down his right foot into the centre of the throne, dividing the legs of the Warlock before proceeding to lean inwards of the decaying man with both hands, clutching around the circular disk with the smile that sat firmly within the Warlock's chest. With all his might he pulled upwards upon it, sinking his fingers in the mass of flesh as deep as he could in order to get just the right amount of grip. Though to Supergirl seconds appeared like eternity under the internal pressure of choking, it was not long till Nightwing had achieved his goal, pulling out the smiley face topped disk from the Warlock's chest, dragging out from the soft centre a round protruding foot long spike that narrowed out from the back side of the disk. "Nekron!" Nightwing shouted, tossing up the demon's face and attaching spike into the air, waiting for the invisible father of the dead to grab hold of it. Seemingly suspended in the air three inches short of hitting the ceiling, the four bulbs of light that surrounding Nekron's scythe returned, showering the room with an intense blinding force of white light that completely surrounded and engulfed the demon's face. Nightwing tossed up the interior of his elbow over his eyes and shunned away from the powers in front of him, keeping his ears poised to hear the powerful burst of energy shatter the components of the demon's face as Red Robin had done so in the past before taking that next step by disintegrating everything that it was.

In a near instant of having the demon's stick ripped free of the Warlock chest, the pressure around Supergirl's chest subsided, Miss Marvel having regained full consciousness of herself and was decidedly stunned by what she was doing. Supergirl fell flat to the floor, planting her left forearm against the ground to provide some support in arching her head to look back at her friend. She was in a complete state of shock, trembling throughout her body to the point of being unable to move from her knelt position.

"See if you had stopped and thought for maybe just a second you wouldn't be half past dead," Nightwing stepped into the stairwell, "it was in Red Robin's notes…the Warlock's demon needs a vessel in order to be active. I don't think dead Johnny's flesh over there had much tact to hold onto it, not without a working heart."

"Nekron?" Supergirl gasped, "What...?"

"He's been waiting here the entire time," Nightwing coldly responded, "how do you think you got through the barrier?" And with that concluding question, he marched up the steps leaving the two super heroines to catch their breaths and recover from whatever wounds they had inflicted upon each other, completely silent and almost as completely still.

* * *

Supergirl left the crypt in a light jog, stepping with a hobble as it was taking some time for her legs to heal from the battle that took place less than a minute before. The muck of dirt that made up the path in between the laid down stripped trees was frequently exploited, much of it being churned up into little mounds from heavy boots stomps and crashing bodies, the latter of which having retained a position on the ground; the multitude of scarlet robed cult members knocked unconscious and scattered through the pathway forcing Supergirl to step around at least three of them to get up to Nightwing whom had already taken a commanding ten stride lead.

The pulsating sound of vehicle thrusters compelled Supergirl to stop in her tracks, making her look up to the sky with open eyes searching for the source, coming across the diving image of the blue bird, its sleek black appearance with blue accentuations being a strong stand out from the glossy white cloud sky. It flipped around for its underside to face the ground and descended down in front of Nightwing, the circular thrust of its underside being powerful enough to shift the muck around a bit, drying up the particular path its air currents had hit across. Nightwing came to a stop just as the long narrowing point black wings came to land upon the ground, sinking in deeply to the ground under its weight. He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he marched around the curving inward point at the end of the wing, flipping up tracks of mud on the soles of his grey floppy boots in the process, finding much dissatisfaction it its tenacity in sticking, forced to shake them around before the next step was taken.

"Todd wait," Supergirl spoke up in a soft tone, stopping when she reached the wing, curing her lips inward as she attempted to catch the boy's eyes as he worked his way over top of the oval shaped centre of his personal craft, where the wide encompassing windshield snapped free of its locks and slid downward towards the front thus opening up the cockpit.

"It's alright, the authorities will be here in a few minutes," he slumped down into his seat, only the top of his head with the bat ears were visible above the top of the wing.

"No Todd," Supergirl slapped a hand to the corner of her forehead, slipping in the palm upon her eye to rub it around, "I just wanted to say…" she stumbled for a few moments, unable to find herself making out the words she desired to speak.

Todd waited patiently for her to conclude but at some point could not hold any longer, "yeah," he mumbled, "good work today. I have no doubt that the citizens of Metropolis sleep well knowing you patrol their skies," he spoke with hardest edge of seriousness, seemingly meaning full well what he had said without having once looked at Supergirl, "now if you'll excuse me…I have to go home and see Cassie." The windshield slipped back up along its track, locking into its standard position with its air tight quality, and then the thrusters boosted into full gear, sending streams of air from underneath its belly as well as through the blue panels that lined the interior of the wings, hovering it up into the air before taking off into the distance, turning into a uneasy jittery black dot in the distance in the span of ten seconds.

"Lara?" Miss Marvel walked along the strip of mud, head hovering around the area, immediately intrigued by the fallen bodies of the cult members, "what happened?" Supergirl lowered her chin, leaving the Bluebird to travel away from the cemetery grounds without her watchful eyes, turning as she did so to return to her friend with a less than enthusiastic stare.

* * *

"Alright hold yourself together girl," the streak of blue and red that was Supergirl slowed down in her path of flight, "It's been over a week now, we've both calmed down," she shifted her hands out from her sides, palms facing the earth as though she needed them to steady herself on the descent down to the top of an apartment complex, a flat topped building with a solid black rubbery coating on its roof with not but a foot high white painted stone trim that no doubt rose up from the sides of the building without cut. She stepped up to the ledge of the building, planting her red boot down on the thick ledge and leaned over. From her standing perspective she was on the right side of the street, the spanning eight lane black tar line separating near twelve story high complex buildings being sparsely packed with a few odd coloured vehicles and civilians. "Just need to say I'm sorry," she took in a heavy breath and let it run out with the relieving of her shoulders, hands falling flat to her sides, "he'll understand right? I didn't mean what I said…." The day was beautifully lit, clean spanning sky of blue with a high overhanging sun that was perfectly spherical in its infinite power; it was a good day to charge her batteries.

Over the small alley way from the white coloured building she stood upon was a several story high grey apartment building, a rather flat looking face to the street with the only noticeable difference to the steely grey sheet being the rectangular strips of windows, all of which were perfectly lined up with along the face with mathematical precision. This building was similar to the ones around it, indeed a clone of the building across the street from it, but it was important to her because a particular individual of interest lived there, her adoptive cousin whom she felt remorse over the way she had spoken to him last, "I can't believe it," she slapped up a palm to her eye, lowering her head, "don't do this to me now, please…I don't want to remember," she continued to shake her head as the memories formed themselves at the front of her consciousness, the urges for it to stop being unheeded. "I was so stupid," her hand slipped down. "Alright," she nodded for the benefit of herself, "I'll just go in there, say I'm sorry and we can go off and be friends…" she attempted to conclude her thought but was compelled to stop when a sight had caught her off guard, something quite expectantly. With her incredible visual reach, she caught upon the exiting of two figures from the front entrance of the building, one of them most certainly was Todd, the black haired, blue eyed boy wearing a nice white collared shirt with while shined vest and matching dress pants. His sight was exceptionally pleasant, nearly bringing her to smile before completely losing it upon realization that the second figure was indeed in his company, a girl about their age with short blonde hair and a purple pull over hoodie.

"I just find everything so weird here Avril," Todd chuckled as he stepped up his pace up the street, "I mean who wants to watch a movie about super heroes when super heroes really exist in real life," he tightened his elbows to his stomach, tossing out his hands as though he were panhandling, "I mean, let's drop this film nonsense and go and do the real thing…I wanted to be in this world because all my dreams are a reality."

"It got good review," Avril smirked as she stepped up her one pace to match her companion, "and you know, heroes may exist in this world but it's different from not like we can get to know them like we can the fictional ones…" she lingered off upon Todd suddenly stopping, she dragging the tip of her left foot against the ground as she turned her head around to look at him, "what's wrong."

Todd looked over his shoulder, scanning the rooftops, "I don't know," his eyes shifted around the straight lines of the steel and stone constructions, the apartment buildings glinting with the light of the sun, "I felt like we were being watched for whatever reason," he turned back to the front of the clean light sandstone sidewalk, "it's nothing," he shook his head, "come on, I want to get preferential seating," he clambered away into a light job, the tail sides of his vest flipping around with every pulsating stomp of his foot.

* * *

"Alright hold yourself together girl," the streak of blue and red that was Supergirl slowed down in her path of flight, "It's been over a week now, we've both calmed down," she shifted her hands out from her sides, palms facing the earth as though she needed them to steady herself on the descent down to the top of an apartment complex, a flat topped building with a solid black rubbery coating on its roof with not but a foot high white painted stone trim that no doubt rose up from the sides of the building without cut. She stepped up to the ledge of the building, planting her red boot down on the thick ledge and leaned over. From her standing perspective she was on the right side of the street, the spanning eight lane black tar line separating near twelve story high complex buildings being sparsely packed with a few odd coloured vehicles and civilians. "Just need to say I'm sorry," she took in a heavy breath and let it run out with the relieving of her shoulders, hands falling flat to her sides, "he'll understand right? I didn't mean what I said…." The day was beautifully lit, clean spanning sky of blue with a high overhanging sun that was perfectly spherical in its infinite power; it was a good day to charge her batteries.

Over the small alley way from the white coloured building she stood upon was a several story high grey apartment building, a rather flat looking face to the street with the only noticeable difference to the steely grey sheet being the rectangular strips of windows, all of which were perfectly lined up with along the face with mathematical precision. This building was similar to the ones around it, indeed a clone of the building across the street from it, but it was important to her because a particular individual of interest lived there, her adoptive cousin whom she felt remorse over the way she had spoken to him last, "I can't believe it," she slapped up a palm to her eye, lowering her head, "don't do this to me now, please…I don't want to remember," she continued to shake her head as the memories formed themselves at the front of her consciousness, the urges for it to stop being unheeded. "I was so stupid," her hand slipped down. "Alright," she nodded for the benefit of herself, "I'll just go in there, say I'm sorry and we can go off and be friends…" she attempted to conclude her thought but was compelled to stop when a sight had caught her off guard, something quite expectantly. With her incredible visual reach, she caught upon the exiting of two figures from the front entrance of the building, one of them most certainly was Todd, the black haired, blue eyed boy wearing a nice white collared shirt with while shined vest and matching dress pants. His sight was exceptionally pleasant, nearly bringing her to smile before completely losing it upon realization that the second figure was indeed in his company, a girl about their age with short blonde hair and a purple pull over hoodie.

"I just find everything so weird here Avril," Todd chuckled as he stepped up his pace up the street, "I mean who wants to watch a movie about super heroes when super heroes really exist in real life," he tightened his elbows to his stomach, tossing out his hands as though he were panhandling, "I mean, let's drop this film nonsense and go and do the real thing…I wanted to be in this world because all my dreams are a reality."

"It got good review," Avril smirked as she stepped up her one pace to match her companion, "and you know, heroes may exist in this world but it's different from not like we can get to know them like we can the fictional ones…" she lingered off upon Todd suddenly stopping, she dragging the tip of her left foot against the ground as she turned her head around to look at him, "what's wrong."

Todd looked over his shoulder, scanning the rooftops, "I don't know," his eyes shifted around the straight lines of the steel and stone constructions, the apartment buildings glinting with the light of the sun, "I felt like we were being watched for whatever reason," he turned back to the front of the clean light sandstone sidewalk, "it's nothing," he shook his head, "come on, I want to get preferential seating," he clambered away into a light job, the tail sides of his vest flipping around with every pulsating stomp of his foot.


	33. Young Justice Beyond 9

Young Justice Beyond #9  
Volume 1. Story 7  
A Massacre at the Amusement Park

* * *

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," Iota casually stated with a hint of sarcastic drawl as he flew into the central hub of the Justice Cave, the feat of flight being easily mastered with the assistance of his own Green Lantern's ring, the source of his power. The coverage of emerald light around his body caused a spectacle of light in the surrounding area, the tunnel of the cave certainly feeling its flow along its slick silver plated floor and curving loops of smooth cut rocked. As far as costume accruements go, the ring's ample power provided for him a skin tight suit that seemingly rearranged his street clothes to become whatever he so desired. As such, the costume his heroic persona opted to wear was something drawn completely within the realm of his mind albeit with a heavy handed influence from outside sources. For the most part, his body was enclosed in a tight fitting black body suit with the notable abstractions, in a strong crystalline green no less, being well placed over top such as his block shin high boots and elbow length gloves that formulated nicely to the muscle bulk of his arms and all the way down to his palms leaving his fingers beyond the first joint exposed. Along the top of his shoulders and heading down to about an inch below the clavicle was a band of green embedded within the suit, raised of the suit proper by mere millimetres creating a shoulder pad like look with its obvious distinction. At the centre of his chest was a centimetre thick hexagonal shape storing within it two white triangles aimed inwards of another, their points connecting barely while their top and bottom sides respectively attempted to fit into the straight ledges of the hexagon; though looking more like an hour glass in a two dimensional perspective, the emblem when stretched out with its popping out facade emulated the look of a stylized lantern. Covering a hefty portion of his face was a straight rectangular band of green that stretched from ear to ear, curving at the necessary spacing of his eyes and the bend of his nose, closing off on each corner with an almost triangular bit that lingered off with some distance, the top set being on the reach for his temples while the bottom curved inward of his cheek bones. This mask that he wore did very little to protect whom he was to people whom knew him fluently, but now with most of those people either dead or presumably lobotomized by their own creations (Iota#7), its usefulness has greatly increased into the higher percentage levels. His hair was short and black, running off the top of his forehead with a straight slope brimming over the top of his mask while his smile, which he seldom wore without hints of sarcasm, was reasonably straight across albeit with teeth that had seen better days. "What's the emergency?" his normal orientation of flight, stomach faced to the ground with fist drawn out as straight and narrow as possible, suddenly gave way as he hit the first few yards within the cave, tossing down his feet to reach for the ground thusly bringing his upper body upright for a surprisingly soft landing, feet more than ready for the two foot high drop that would inevitably occur once the emerald shield that gave him flight faded away. "You're making it more difficult for me to take this crime fighting role seriously," he pressed an insinuating finger forward upon solid footing being achieved, "seems you just need me to smash things and you know I was doing that and a lot more long before I got the ring."

"I wasn't the one that called you," the recipient of the Iota's poorly seeded furry was the scarlet clad speedster of the team, Interval, the no doubt smartest of the three though it was this such aspect among others that also made him the most difficult to work with; his obsessive tendencies to make perfection of everything he partook in has prevented the team from successfully stepping out from the Justice League's shadowy watch, indeed, they had neither selected a name to go by for their little meetings and though they have fought their way through demons from another dimension, space gods from the depths of hell, and children with god like powers, they still had yet to go public with whom they were and what they intended to do with themselves as heroes; understandably being a hero in this context left a hole that the speedster didn't feel, praise being most certainly desired by his companions but became company only to criticism which they shared openly with one another, more often than not severing a nerve that put their relationships in question, could they successfully work as team?

The scarlet colour of the Flash family were boldly displayed in Interval's shin high boots, stunted tight gloves that meagrely reached beyond his wrists, his full cowl piece, as well as a body encompassing triangular piece that wrapped around his shoulders and aimed down to a blunted flat point near his waist where it then broke down and divided in to a thin lightning bolt chain design that rode over top of his upper leg joints and around like a belt. Black filled in the rest of his costume; leggings, arms, torso sides, all in all fitting well against the deep scarlet blood flavour. Regardless of the gritty redefinition in a costume heavily based in design upon a brighter hero, the boy was allowed to maintain the oft considered essential feature of the Flash, that being the stylized logo on the centre of his chest; a circle of white within a black boundary with a thick shocking yellow bolt of lightning striking through from one side to another. In addition to this necessity, connected to his ears were silvery circular pieces notable for the small yellow metal bolts flaring out to the back of his head just over an inch. To cap off such an arrangement were goggle pieces, tinted a light yellow, giving apt protection vision.

"I keep getting dragged out here," Iota pulled his hands to his waist, pulling off a disgruntled smirk, "and what exactly are we supposed to be doing? Helping Nightwing solve problems he's caused? Covert operations for the League? They have more misplaced junk they need us to find? The League has got their marketing machine in gear and we're certainly more so on level with them than the Titans are, we have three named members with well-respected roots in the hero community…plus Nightwing."

"We've already discussed this [YJB#7]," Interval returned with his distinct monotone, arching his chin close to a shoulder while keeping a stern eye on his Lantern colleague, "we're not nearly prepared enough to make ourselves a public image. We have a great deal of power behind us, yes, but our individual skills do not make a team effective. The Justice League as well as the Titans are a cohesive fighting unit, each member knowing the strengths and weaknesses of those around them," he shook his head, turning away momentarily from Iota, "and I would hardly call us respected based solely on names alone; the use of my powers has gotten me close to being expelled from those whom I would call family, your past criminal record of petty theft and gang affiliation, while currently in limbo," his eyebrows bounced, "would dictate you to be ill-suited for a power ring, and Steel is an android with no current affiliation with the Irons family in metropolis save that John Henry Irons built by him with a suicide option following the completion of his mission. Nightwing," he gulped with a discomforting nod, "yes. Despite what we may think of him, Nightwing has been involved in this world longer than we have and has shown himself to be quite resourceful, though it is in my understanding that he's not necessarily respected by the hero community at large. To be honest…" he slurred off for a brief moment, "I still don't know anything about him."

"What a shame," Iota retorted with a disquieted demeanour, whipping his arms across his chest as he continued to scoff, "has it made you sick? Not knowing every bit of information about someone you associate with?"

The interior of the cave was rather plain and simple in construction, continuing on the pattern of silver stainless sheets from the tunnel through the floor and up along the walls, coming to an abrupt flat lined stopping point about a floor and half up from the flat ground, breaking off into the chiselled smoothed faces of darkly coloured rocks with their various etches, engravings and cut marks. The cave's ceiling fitted around a dome shape; the circling of the walls showcasing strips of bright lights that ventured all the way up to a spherical shaped light at the very top of the dome which acted as the primary source of illumination, a personal sun within an enclosed area. The cumbersome room maintained a rather square orientation with few exceptions on account of the cave seemingly being more so oblong in its original shape previous to the remodelling some years back. To the adjacent rightest most wall of the cave's mouth was a massive wall crunching computer; a wide screen that went above and beyond the cut off of the silver metal siding and looked capable of fitting well over a hundred bodies lying down within it. A slightly slanted board at about stomach height ran the full length underneath the monitor; it was obvious from the majority placing of the white rubber topped keypads towards the centre that there was a central hub of activity from which to operate the computer, currently occupied of course by the team's resident metal person, Steel, whom sat comfortably within a black cushioned, silver rod and beam constructed chair similar to the kind found in a barbershop.

Steel was a monstrous entity of heavy metals smelted into a humanoid form with noticeable musculature to its limbs and its torso but such human qualities, albeit inhuman in the most conservative context, failed to reach upon its face, being that of a near smoothed rounded shape with mere rectangular slots of dark printed electronics for eyes and a mouth thus standing suitable out from the overall silvery coverage. Its sheer weight collapsed into the inch high cushioning of the chair, flattening down the coverage to the metal base plate. Despite the screen's massive reach, Steel need only for a small portion and thus had successfully shrunken it down to a size no bigger than a metre squared. The section was a murky depth of blue noted for the gaseous fog of lighter shade values working their way through and about the endlessness. It was of course impossible for the all too human eye to configure to the patterned movements of the fog as it shifted away through and about the computer's depths, but for someone such as Steel, it knew that every pixel displayed was a source of knowledge it was currently absorbing into its matrix; new information being learnt everyday with hands ever so able and willing on the keys of control.

The walls that opposed both the computer console and the large opening had to them three very simple looking slide across doors with only heavy looking dark bluish-grey trim defining them as being such. Almost immediately to the right side of the opening was a round wooden topped table that despite such classic materials appeared to be quite new and sturdy; a well varnished furniture emplacement, it was best regarded for the superimposed gold lettering 'JLA' across its surface in its stylized font and logo border. Situated around the circular table were a dozen or so white chairs that somewhat resembled eggs with a serious cut inward of the shells to allow some black seated cushioning within. On the back side of each of these egg chairs were logos representing the various heroes whom have sat here from time to time, ranging from the wide spanning black bat emblem, to the streaking yellow bolt of lightning representing the flash and also the green coloured circle with two sizable bars at its top and bottom, the traditional logo of the Green Lantern heralding from earth.

"Are you suggesting that it is ill-advised of me to acquire as much knowledge as possible about those whom I am expected fight alongside with and place my wellbeing in their hands simply because they vaguely share a name and abilities with a named super hero?" The relative calm monotone of Interval's voice continued but it was quite evident simply by the way he walked, the way he looked into Iota's eyes, that he was particularly disturbed by the sentiments behind his teammate's words. He was closest to the centre of the cave, following the path line set by the table's edge on a relative curve to make himself prepared to encounter Iota whom took to his firm standing just on the outside of the table, back to the angle of the cave mouth.

"You know a lot about me…you know my history from police logs but you don't know who I am and you haven't even tried to ask," Iota tossed up his arms in outrage, "with the gangs I was involved in at least knew better, we didn't trust no one but ourselves. But on this side of the gate," he leaning his head in forward towards the approaching speedster, placing the ends of his fingers firmly on his logo, nearly coming to touch their tips together, "heroes should have nothing to hide from one another."

"Is that an opinion or a fact?" Interval stopped at Iota's side, placing his height at an advantage, standing nearly two inches above the young Lantern with a flexing to the back of his legs, "or is it just some assumption you've made when a few of them stopped you from robbing a corner store or stealing a car?"

"Heh," Iota scoffed before an immediate decline in a soft expulsion of held up air, shirking his shoulder to bring down his tightly clenched arms from his chest, "Kyle doesn't like me being a part of a team…whenever Superman was busy they would call in one of the Lantern's to replace him with the big force," he raised his chin a little, attempting to bring himself up to the speedsters level with an ever growing sternness to his eyes, "I don't like being used." Several seconds of silence eclipsed the both of them, the awkward staring proving to be most unbearable to Iota for he imagined the smart minded boy to be used to such odd states and behaviours, "I thought we were becoming a team…" he attempted to concluded, dropping his chin lower as he turned away slightly, "I thought we were a team. I may not like the kid much but at least Nightwing has been open with us, he trusted us enough to keep his secret about planetary ownership on Apokolips [YJB#6-7]," he gulped with the roll of his lips, "see the thing is, We probably don't get much time to ourselves with our 'mentor' watching over our shoulders, well at least I don't…we should be able to have fun while we're here, not just have it as another chore."

"Excellent choice of words," both Interval and Iota were startled with the entry of a cheery voice along with a single cupping palm clap that just yearned for attention. Turning around, the two bickering teen heroes found that Nightwing had stealthily slipped through the centre door in the wall, that particular one that led into the hallway strip of personal rooms, far too many for the three to handle on their own. The clean silver slate that made up the door smoothly slid back into its frame placing just as the delightfully happy boy exited with hands well smashed into one another. He stepped up to his two teammates, nodded to each with a closed smile, "that's exactly the reason why I called you?" He stopped once the loose fitting triangle between the three was formed, shaking his legs out to the sides to get in his comfort zone as his hands dropped.

Nightwing was mostly decked head to toe in a sleek firm black uniform, its only detracting feature being the superimposed vibrant blue falcon spanning his chest, its straight lined wing tops soaring in at angles down from his armpits to the centre of his chest with a geometric audacity to the feather trailing below as well as the diamond shaped tail and narrowing neck, notable for the two beaks angling off to the right. The sides of his head, lifting up in line with his ears, were the oft most recognizable part of the costume for those who traverse the rooftops of Gotham at night; the pointed bat ears, stretching up a hefty distance before slightly curving towards the back of his head. Above the slimming black sheen, he wore assorted pieces of equipment that deviated away from the whole with its more lukewarm greys colouration. Around much of his forearms were steel shined gauntlets of sorts which were rather bulky on the outside on account of the rounded topped compartments that contained his escrima styled sticks. The gloves that seeped out from under the gauntlets were of a light shaded grey and quite squared and bulky around his small fingers. His boots carried with them a distilling grey shade and stood to be much looser fitting than his gloves, taking a round formation around his toes while leaving the bulk of his shins exposed on account of the boot's upper fabric being unwisely large in their embedded hoop ring like fashion, falling flatly along to the sides of his feet on many occasions when he stepped into any fighting techniques.

"You called us?" Interval sounded off with his puzzlement, dipping down into a tone that was far off from his usual plain way of speaking.

"No way," Iota slammed down a palm, "I swear I got a message from Interval."

"Yeah, I know," Nightwing maintained his smile while shaking his head slightly from side to side as he continued to talk, "I knew that you wouldn't come if I called you so I kind of got my sources to give me access to Interval's mobile device."

"What?" Interval slid his hands down his sides, wrapping them around his waist as though he would find his personal mobile device handy. The held up breath of air in his panic was short lived, a heavy sigh on the horizon of which made Nightwing simply chuckle.

"The boss man can do more than just turn every cellphone into signal tracking devices to spy on the world," Nightwing's white eye capsules grew large for a brief moment, filled with an ecstatic delight, "Oh, but…um, you might want to keep your name, address and well, face from being seen," he winced, tightening his voice to the point of squeaking, "the NSA were a bit conflicted when they found a eighty year-old mathematician named Jace Allen in Connecticut had been connected to your number, I couldn't find you in any directory so I had to make it up and he was the closest to a match."

"Eighty year-old?" Interval questioned through a hush.

He gulped as he slapped his hand back together, creating the heavy clap noise that echoed out from the hollowed home made by his palms, "OK then," he slipped back into his happy key, "well then, the real reason why I've brought you all here today," he furiously shook his hands at the side of his head, spreading out his fingers as they waved around back in forth, "The Most X-treme Youngster's Zone for Pandemonium and Tactical Legionnaires who want to Kill Something," he straightened up, placing the ending finger side of his right fist against his chest as he raised his chin, "or as the kids are calling it this day," he became out rightly pompous to the point of cliché, "Massacre…Park."

"Why do they call it that?" Iota muzzled, sending crinkling lines across his visible forehead.

"What is this place?" Interval overcame Iota's question with a stiffer backing to his voice.

"It's a theme park," Nightwing hastily responded, "it's like half a mile that away," Nightwing threw up a hand, pointing his extended middle finger toward the far corner where the monitor screen wall met the one with the series of doors. "I can't believe we missed it all these past few week," he placed his free hand upon his nearest thigh to provide for himself some balance when he let his knees buckle, lowering his body his body a whole head lower than Interval. He retracted his pointing arm at the elbow halfway thus forcing the point of his finger to fall upon the upper limits of the cave ceiling just so that he could reassert it straight once more to be absolutely certain that the direction he was interested in had been cemented in his two colleagues. Over and over again his arm reached up for the sky and straightened out all while maintaining a hobbling head and smile.

Interval crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes down, feeling quite puzzled, "where?"

"Didn't you see it coming in?" Nightwing bolstered himself back upright with a small hop as his hands fell back loosely to his sides. The side of his head fell to one side, looking towards the speedster with a questionable glare.

"I saw a bunch of lights," Iota pressed up a hand to the back of his head, first fighting back against the prickles of his hair before returning down with a casual pass, "yeah…" he nodded, "I saw it, but someone said this was an emergency so I didn't have time to investigate it."

"Sure," Nightwing affirmed Iota's standing with a smirk.

"No," Interval shook his head, "I live further down south. I have to cross over the ocean's inlet to get here." He smoothed down his hands along his stomach, hurriedly scrapping around his hands to the sides of his waist; he was certainly off in a different realm, thinking back to the trip on the way to the cave, sifting through that string of memory to determine whether or not he saw the lights of the theme park or at the very least some sort of structure that stood out of place, "where is this place?" he brought himself down from the clouds with a serious gesture towards the bat-boy.

"Are you serious?" Nightwing dove at his fast running teammate, totally taking him off guard when he stabbed in his thick gloved fingers into the boy's costume and pulled upon it as best he could to achieve a grasp worthy of drawing them closer. "It's over there!" Nightwing rose up his pointing arm and straightened it out back into the corner, snapping his wrist with the extended finger which began to twitch rapidly as seconds of silence elapsed.

Interval shirked away Nightwing's poorly founded grasp with a simple shaking plunge backwards, the tightness of his costume proving to be too difficult to get a manageable hold upon. With a step back, he disturbed the current triangular arrangement that the three young heroes held, bringing forth the looks of both his teammates whom were forced to turn around to face him, holding strong to their stationary positions. Before either Nightwing or Iota could blink, the speedster had throttled his way through the cave's tunnel, pulling with him streak of scarlet red punctuated by doses of thin strands of lightning; needless to say, the two remaining heroes jumped in shock as the space in front of their eyes suddenly became absent of their teammate.

"Hmm…" Nightwing hummed with dissatisfaction. He slapped down his right hand to his wrist on his left, looking at the bulk of his forearm with intrigue as though a watch existed somewhere in the glistening black of his costume, "thought he'd be back by now." With the drop of his arms, he ended up looking to the bright lights that circled the dome of the cave while licking his lips, drifting away into thoughts of scenarios that would have prevented Interval's imminent return; the speedster should not have been gone for longer than ten seconds.

"He's probably testing all the rides there for realism's sake," Iota turned about face to the tunnel, fully prepared to trudge his way over so that once outside he could venture over to the theme park on his own accord and make an assessment for himself, albeit one that stood to be mishandled if he was having a good time. The trip however would have to be put on hold in meantime for before he could even take his first step a furious storm of blurred red zipped past him at excessive supersonic speeds, the sheer power of the wind by his side being enough to take away his sense of balance. Wobbling to and fro on his heels, he made an attempt to hold his footing with the twirling out of his hands, making small circles with the tips of his fingers producing some positive effects since he was soon able to touch his toes to the ground.

"When did the park open?" Interval came to an abrupt stop in front of Nightwing, reassuming his former position within their little trinity albeit with Iota's back facing inward.

"Today I think," Nightwing responded, "which is why we should get moving, cash in on all the opening day festivities," he cheerfully smiled with a kick out of his inner face foot across the shin of his other leg in preparation to move forward with his shoulder aimed towards the cave mouth.

"Do you remember any periods of construction for the mountain, roller coasters and swimming pools?" Interval furthered his prodding.

"Well now that you have me thinking about it," Nightwing mockingly continued before suddenly slumping down into a string of seriousness that just about decimated any cheer that was in his widened eyes, "no," he raised a hand up to his chin, scratching a finger along the tip of his nose, "it was just kind of there when I was heading over here…" he dropped his hand with the return of a closed smile that was certainly more lacklustre than any of its previous forms, gripping tightly at the ends causing folds up along his cheeks.

"Well then," Interval pressed up with his informative drawl, "how is it that a mountain and a theme park can be erected without anyone noticing."

"Who cares?" Iota tossed up his arms wildly as he turned back in to face his teammates, "so we missed a few things over the weeks, it's not like we're checking up on construction projects all around us all the time…" he trailed off, hovering the pupils into the corners of his eye socket. He shook his head, pulling back into reality, "alright, let's just go check this place out and have some fun."

"I couldn't agree more," Nightwing piqued back up with glee.

"Steel," Interval cried out for their metal teammate. The massive hands of Steel slipped from their grasp on the computer board, slipping down and off like rocks into the fro of gravity. Abruptly, it turned to face the three boys revealing the plastered superman logo, the 'S' shield, on his chest, sightless eyes gazing over to Interval, "could you pull up satellite logs of the island from the past few days?" he stepped around Nightwing on a course towards the monitor screen, "it should be easier to get a connection with the D3C3-N20 universal connector installed."

"Oh, so you did end up getting it put in," Nightwing chuckled.

"I thought we we're supposed to give that back to the League?" Iota questioned.

"The cave's feeds are nearly two decades old," Interval stalled in his steps, "the technology more than just archaic in my time," he turned around abruptly, understanding that the turn of the computer chair meant that Steel was well ahead of his stepping over, "sure I could have built one but the League wouldn't release any of the schematics to us and I never really got around to reading about how ones worked from my time, it just never came up," he shook his head, "it only seemed reasonable that we kept it, after all we're the ones who found it."

"Um," Nightwing raised his hand, "I stole it [YJB#8]."

"Hey, we're on the same team," Iota slammed up his hands to his sides, puffing up his chest, "it may be able to hack into League frequencies but it's not like we weren't getting them already right?"

"Right," Interval coldly smirked.

Nightwing shook both his fists in the air, lining up their swings like hammers against his shoulders, "Can we go now?"

* * *

The plot of land granted to the theme park was surrounded by a fence that was nearly doubled the size of an average person standing, being more than adequate in securing some privacy to the patrons within its borders as well as making the high rise of its various amusement rides and activities appear all that more grandiose with their bases invisible to the prying eye stuck outside. Its composition was primarily metal, the viewable outside being an assortment of thick squared bars protruding up from the ground, spaced out from one another no more than a hands press, the cracks in between being met with the firmness of a plastic wall on the inner side, a solid sheet that spanned the entirety of the fence. The extent of the fencing was impossible to see from any which angle on the ground, indeed, from the centre of the front wall one could only see the fence stretch in unfathomable gains along the grounds all while turning inward of the park on a curvature that inevitable made its end invisible. While the bars themselves were painted in a thick orange paint, the plastic walling in behind was the most royal of purples, the miss-matching of colours certainly foreboding a sense of unease with its inner workings.

The lone mountain of the area was at the farthest right side corner of the park as viewed from the entrance way in the opposing corner. It was difficult to argue for its realism as a monolith built of rock and other substances, this belief primarily stemming from that cringe worthy orange that had laid itself upon its sloping downward sides as they reached towards the centre of park and curved outward as such on a line back towards the adjoining walls its flatter backside fitted up against. The orange top appeared to be tacked on plastic blades of grass, each one being as sharp as could be expected when compared to their organic counterparts. The mountain itself rose upwards of over fourteen stories, the tallest feature of the park, with a slope that looked to rival it in metres gained. It was this distance in slope that was necessary to its purposes of being something patrons could slide down for along its surface were several grey lines that zoomed down like ant holes, weaving in and around bends on sharply cut turns and occasional came across a bump that was an assurance of air time. As a climb up its sides would be most treacherous given the activity, a simple wire attached through pulley systems connected to banisters on a crane high concrete construction formed a gondola, a chair lift that took up to two occupants on the inner side of the mountain along and around its cheek to the top. The mountainous notion continued onward with its very unearthly hue; a series of smaller peaks could be made out along the back wall, barely meeting the halfway mark of their bigger brother but certainly making an impression with their near uniform appearance and height. It was in the adjacent corner following along the path of peaks that a slightly smaller mountain face could be seen but unlike the grassy plains of previous ventures this particular end was notable for the high rise of tubular pillars that were painted that stand out purple. Several tubes ventured out from the apparent platform that signified the top, all of them swerving in and out on a downward decline to the point of phasing inward of the mountain range to presumably come out at some point around the mountain's side where the occupants of the enclosed tube would fly out under the pressure of water with a splash immediately following; they were water slides.

Other notable protrusions above the decorative fence was a sizable strip of rollercoaster track that fell well in line with the odd colourations present throughout the park. The metal beams that built up a support structure with a myriad of smaller breams crisscrossing in between were fashion heavily with purple while the boards spaced out boards planks that lined in between the track pipes held to that offsetting orange. It was very much unlike anything that could possibly qualify as being safe for all passengers almost to the point of being inhumane. Though its resting place of its major form fit about square on with the centre of the park, its wide reaching circular rungs that road up from ground like sea waves most certainly reach out as best they could to the centre of each surrounding fence wall, bending and curving at angles that would certainly have made any occupants of its magnetized carts pass out from the sheer power of the g-force applied. It was truly a cyclone of metal cobbled together for the amusement earned from the lightning speed at which the carts travelled.

On the immediate inner side of the front wall were a series of rooftops, the most common of which were triangular in shape at both ends with several metres in distance between the connecting of each point. The colours of these simple constructs fluctuated between the strange purples and orange hues, the alternate colour to each top being present in a foot thick trim around the bottom rectangular emplacing formed by the triangles ground facing bottom. They were anything but lined up with the straight edge of the wall, facing out at awkward angles and lines that made a path in between their multitudes seemingly impassable; nonetheless, the conglomeration of the colours and tops raised at varying height made a very festive portrayal worthy of further investigation.

"That's unreal," Iota gasped. The young Lantern came to a stop several strides back of the front wall of the amusement park, standing just off to the right of its centre. His eyes were opening up to the point of sending ripples up under his mask and on throughout his fore head as he arched his neck back enough to get a full view of the rollercoaster's impressive height and more importantly, the angles at which the track lines turned. Suddenly a spark rose up in his ring and in a near instant, a small scale replica about a metre wide of the rollercoaster appeared in front of him suspended in the air on a flat plate; what was most prominent about it were the curling waves outward of its sides, they were high and considerably sharp around the outside edge, more so than what a normal rollercoaster could be expected to hold without breaking down constantly. Furthermore, it was not just one track line that was fitted on the curling waves but three jam packed together at the sides thusly producing an even greater strain to its minimal supporting structure of steel pipes and pillars. He was forced to fill out most of the coaster's lower workings with his imagination, finding it reasonable to assume that there was at least a straight line somewhere, a place where the ride would begin but complicating matters were a series of loops several stories high, their diameters running suitably parallel to the front and back fences. Placing the straight starting line on the ground, he attempted to articulate the high rising loops on either side of it but the more he did the more he realized its impossibility, indeed, he was beginning to believe that the ride began on one of the seven loops. It was a purely fantastical notion, the danger levels of such an operation being well founded in their twisting steel forms that would surely send the occupants of the carts into an hour's long daze at any juncture in the ride.

"Wasn't this a residential area?" Interval looked across to Nightwing walking alongside him, the two other heroes of the three having fallen behind their emerald lit colleague.

Nightwing hummed with a thoughtful look up into the sky, "I always thought this was a field for concerts and carnivals," he bolstered back down his head from the clouds and casually glanced over to Interval with a giddy nod, "either way, we win with something like this in our playground," he tossed out his arms like fireworks, stretching them out across the span of the fence convincingly showing that he meant all that was within the amusement park.

Interval had come to a stop a step back of Iota just slightly out to the side, intrigued by the fence but more so puzzled by the surrounding area. For the most part it was indeed a field of grass with an inlet of water coming in from the Atlantic Ocean to their left sides, this particular stream being notable as the same one that ran across the front of their home base, the Justice Cave. The extensive display of residential living space and even further out, the business buildings existed in the far beyond to their right and bit upwards to the corner along the coast line where the inlet continued to venture inward of the terrain; it was like peninsula that had much of its face cut clean with only the park remaining. It was that final aspect, the absence of all but the park, which bothered Interval the most at current moment.

"I know I'm not really up to speed with rollercoasters and well…" Iota stumbled along as he turned around to face his colleagues. On the turn over the impressive replica of the rollercoaster jittered along with him, sifting around like a box of light filtering through the projector that was his ring, "physics, math," the roller coaster came to stand in between the forming triangle of heroes, "but is this even possible? I've never seen a rollercoaster like that," he chucked up the full extent of his non-ring holding arm towards the rollercoaster behind him, aiming the point of his index finger over top of the fence and towards the loops of twisted metal.

"I know! we have to try it," Nightwing flapped out his arms with the bounce of his eyes. He started up into a trudge towards the corner point that opposed the mountain in the far back. Iota slapped down his ring hand into the awaiting palm of his other, the already shaky image of the rollercoaster in its crystalline green immediately folding into a wiry frame of weakness before finally dissipating into thin air in the span of three seconds as he joined Nightwing nodding with a small developing smirk.

"I can run almost at the speed of light," Interval hurriedly caught up to them in their march, a relative speed considering his perspective of such things. It wasn't too long before he was at the front of the pack, turning slightly inward of the fence wall to get a look back at his colleagues along the side, "Iota can fly as well as generate a rollercoaster that far exceeds the thrilling experiences you might gain from that one in there if he is so wills it."

Iota stopped in his tracks, puzzled in Interval's words for only a moment, "oh…" he continued onward.

"And you yourself have been involved in a multitude of experiences that far exceed anything anyone in there has ever been through," Interval furiously clenched his arms around his chest, propelling himself backwards with small jabs of his heels into the air behind him, "tell me how a centuries old attraction like a rollercoaster is supposed to amuse people like us?"

"Because it's fun, its real," Nightwing shook out his body with a squint, shaking his head somewhat in disbelief at the speedster's assertion, "I mean, come on," he levelled hard into his chipper attitude, "sure we can just go to the nearest arcade and experience everything through the virtual reality helmets on our own but this is something we can do together…that's were its fun, the experiences we share with one another," he asserted himself forward with a heavy right foot crushing down the dozens of grass blades underneath his might, "I want to feel the rush through my body without having to think about dodging bullets."

"Have to agree with that sentiment," Iota chimed in. He shook his shoulders with a loose circular shape, "I always thought the VR at the arcades were kind of stupid. It's all fun until you realize that it's not real and you're alone."

Interval looked like he was ready to grunt in disfavour of the held opinions but kept his head fixed and line in between his shoulders as he turned around to get back on track towards the corner, leaving both Nightwing and Iota befuddled, hesitating in their desire to follow.

The entrance way was just over two metres short of the corner. Here there was a sizable abstraction from the fence, four door-sized steel plates of a slate grey variety that glistened with a shine as the boys approached them. They were lined up side to side just like any other door with several purple square pole, much like those that lined the fence though cut down to size, in between them creating a thick pillar like entity that prevented a full on connection. Upon these purple pillars were grey boxes, rectangular slabs no more than a centimetre thick with several clear plastic like flat buttons that reached from the starting point of zero to nine. The broadsides of these devices ran parallel to the doors' and was most notable for the single vertical cut just off to the right of centre, looking as though something thin was to be slid down through it. What had gathered the boys' attention most however was the sign that sat above the doors, a sign that cascaded overtop of the set like a rainbow of alternating purples and oranges, but of course it was the thick red font that stuck out, "The Most X-treme Youngster's Zone for Pandemonium and Tactical Legionnaires who want to Kill Something," Nightwing blurted out, finding solace in the thick easy to read lettering that plastered along the sign on its curving bend.

"Not a very creative title," Iota mused.

"No one under the age of eighteen, enter at own peril," Interval found himself forced to strain his eyes in order to catch upon the more straight lined lettering that sat below the park name. It was printed in exceptionally smaller font and only furthered its difficulty by being of a navy blue colouration, totally unsuited to fit to the bar of purple it sat upon, "sixty credits per person."

"Are you playing me," Iota snapped off with a growl, "I ain't got sixty creds," he slammed his right boot into the ground, letting the anger fester up along his cheeks and fill into his eyes, "let's just fly over!"

"Oh you guys," Nightwing chuckled. He proceeded to raise his right arm all while fluttering his fingers, drawing up the attention of his teammates to their twisting joints as though he were to perform some unbelievable feat of magic. Suddenly the fingers straightened out, becoming hard. His left hand suddenly shot up to the forearm of his right arm, the fingers nimbly working their way underneath the metal clasp there for a few seconds before pulling free a special card, "ahah," he jeered in delight. He held up in his hand a green credit card with a black strip running down parallel to its broadside, "I know some rich people…unlimited credit," he boasted as he triumphantly stepped up to the door passing by the understandably shocked Iota whom couldn't help but let his jaw drop. He lined up the card with the appropriate slot in the leftist most door device, arching his head to a shoulder as he used his free hand to press down the button noted as being 'three'. A simple slide down of the card and a magical ding sound emanated from somewhere tossing the boys into a frantic search for the source. The door proceeded to open in an unusual way, falling down into the earth where a metal slot was awaiting its placement.

Nightwing was the first to enter through, being that he was the one at the front. He couldn't feel his steps hit the ground, merely accepting their movements for all things about him had been fixed to his primary senses, taking in his surroundings and interpreting them to a scale that judged enjoyment. Endless waves of sights, sounds, and smells crushed upon him, dropping a weight on his back which needed time to bare; he did however produce a cumbersome wide tooth smile for an inkling of what awaited him had pushed its way to the centre of his brain where it began to fester. Kids about his age and younger were throughout the park's lot, running to the next location, talking to a close friend or a new enemy, waiting in line for the next thrilling ride or even just flat out sitting wherever the ground appeared most pleasant, taking in that much needed breath to contain the lost beats of their hearts. There were far too many to count, the young quasi-detective immediately tossing out a number that hit upon the hundreds, twiddling down the multitudes to hair colours for his benefit; the blonds, black, brunettes and the purples…other odd colours that certainly could not have been their natural form. A hefty majority of them were sparse in clothing, stripped down to what they wore to swim in; it was a hot day and few if any of them were found to be wearing anything more than a light wind-breaker jacket. Though all their motivations were as unique as they were, there was one trait that applied to them all, Nightwing included; that sheen of happiness, all feelings building up to the release of a shrill scream, indeed, nary a second past where a shout of excitement could not be heard.

On the grounds to Nightwing's left side were the closely packed booths, their long strips all running into one another with the stretched triangle tops, forming a decently wide walking strip that was nonetheless haphazard in shape, criss-crossing back and forth like a trail of lightning, narrowing down as the stretch continued outwards before finally culminating into a cul-de-sac at about halfway of the wall. The majority of these booths were the source of that pleasant aroma that filled the air; cotton candy in the flimsiest of pinks and blues, miniature donuts saturated in the grease and muck of fried sugar, and many other delectable treats that hardly needed more than just their existence to prod the kids into grubbing up their hands to glass front windows, eagerly tossing away their creds for a taste.

Iota was the next person to shuffle through the entrance door, almost immediately intrigued by the multitudes of young people who peppered the park while finding minor annoyance in their screams, an endless loop of joyous jeers that saw no end. Looking around he already began to feel a bit nauseous, the ugliness that was within the purple and orange hues being enough to cause his eyes to blur somewhat as they attempted to focus on the intricacies of the rollercoaster's base, a directive he was intent on following through with but was denied his right by the passing of teens venturing in front of it, many of whom were standing with their back to him, most probably lined up in preparation to give that cyclone of metal a run; he did however grunt when he saw what he believed to be the cart, a long rectangular box of purple with only a single steel bar that slammed down on the laps of those whom would dare to sit within it. Nothing about it could have been safe for it did indeed look like it started on one of the inner loops, the magnetized track lines being more than enough to make up a speed that whipped them up like lightning.

Interval finally stepped through, careful in each step to make an assessment of his surroundings before becoming comfortable, this domain being particularly distracting on account of the loud noises and bright lights. The ground was downtrodden bedrock, the luscious brown dirt having been pounded down exceptionally hard by the repeated footprint of the amusement park goer with very few loose particles scrapping along top. The interior of the fence was to be expected, that sheet of purple that conveyed nothing of the outside world, creating a horizon through the peak lines.

Though the myriad of sensations in front of the three heroes was plenty to keep them occupied in their own adventures, there was one particular classical ride that had gathered their attention; a Ferris wheel. It was near impossible not to notice it, standing near the front it was indeed the first thing that many of the entering patrons would spot coming in. It was just as high as the rollercoaster's top loop though looked to be more structurally sound, the necessary large triangular clamps holding strong to the ground with their heavy bases while their tips held in between them an intricate array of pipes that made the massive wheel spin. One of its details appeared very much unsuited to fit the park's uniformed appearance that of being the colour used to paint the outer two foot thick rungs of the wheel and the subsequent connecting beams to the centre. It was an unflattering rustic brown that fit closer to a red than an orange. It was however neither the colour of its paint or its qualities in construction that had stricken the boys as odd; rather it was the massive face that was superimposed on the circular hubcap of the wheel. He looked to be an elderly man though without the wrinkles, a wide clean white smile that stretched well beyond the curvy though straight lined sides of his head. His ears in their almost perfectly round shape certainly looked to be out of place, cropping out from the top of his cheek bones. Exploding out from the sides of his head were bushes of white hair, stretched out like a blasting off rocket with just as many painted grey curls to accentuate that feeling. His eyes were overtly cartoon like, being excessively tall with pristine round purple eyes fitting directly within the centre of the whites very much like an egg. He had a button nose and bushy eye brows that popped out with an unhinge jeer comparable to that of the smile and dazed eyes. Upon the top of his head was a purple bowler hat three times to small, a tall bubble top with a circle bottom brim that road up the sides of his head with waves that would make a rodeo cowboy jealous. To cap off this imp like person's apparel was a simple flower, a green stalk that shot out from behind his head, closed off with a wide circle of yellow and several white pedals venturing out from around it.

"I wonder if he owns the place," Iota let out a heavy breath, unable to leave the mesmerizing stare of the giant head.

"There's something about him," Nightwing clasped a hand to his chin, "I've seen that face somewhere before…."

"Heh," Iota shrugged off his thought along with the enduring stare, "the big wheels haven't been all that tempting since I was a tyke," he raised up his ring hand, smirking at its gentle emerald glow as he turned back to face his teammates, "what should we tackle first?"

"I see a Russian Mountain in the distance," Nightwing raised his chin, returning to himself that pompous looking behaviour as he pointed off into the far distant corner where the orange slopes of the mountain sat.

"Alright well," Interval started up with a much coarser grained voice, attempting to sound pleased by the surroundings that clearly affected his comrades but had difficulty in forcing down the monotone that had often afflicted him, "I'm going to check around, see if I can find something that's more in line with my interests."

"You're going to go investigate this place," Nightwing planted his hands into his waist, leaning inward ever so slightly at the speedster with a cold glare, "can't you just have fun?" he tossed out his arms wildly with disappointment, unsure as to whether such bird like flapping held the same meaning or effect in Interval's home era.

Interval gulped, "let's just say that the mystery about how this place came to be amuses me….isn't that the point of the park," he batted up an eyebrow looking to both Iota and Nightwing for a short span of a time, acquiring only their baffled stares, "Nightwing, give me your credit," he reached out his palm.

"Alright," Nightwing slapped the down the green card into the outreached hand with a triumphant slap, "but I expect there to be something in your arms by the time we get back to you," he shook out a finger menacingly in the speedster's direction.

* * *

The grip of Interval's boots suddenly lost their tracking, skidding off the smooth features of the small tile works that fitted around a pool so massive it could quite possibly qualify as a man-made lake. The small tiles were square inches of soft orange varnished vinyl with little more than a thin slice of plaster in between their cracks to keep them tightly bound together; needless to say, this kind of flooring was excessively slippery when wet and considering its proximity to the pool, it was necessarily slippery all the time.

The pool itself was generally oblong in shape, often curving around corners rather than meeting them head on with conclusive points. The white wash colouring of the pool's base and sides certainly fleshed out the blue of the water but one observing could not help but imagine the intense amount of chemicals used to make it so, never mind the over-abundance of chlorine used to give off such a nausea inducing smell. There was little to no shallow areas of the pool, it merely began at three metres and continued down on a decline towards an unfathomable depth which Interval could only assume was twelve metres, this belief arising mostly from the costly height of the waves that peppered through the region as a result of a mechanical generator, some of the earliest and closest of which reached upwards of three metres much to the detriment of patrons looking for a casual swim. The strip that comprised the wave generator was fitted around one of the larger bends that headed inward of the park's centre, stretching out several metres to make a sizable reach across the pool. This location was particularly dangerous since the in flexing of the curving walls around the bend no doubt caused the waves to fight one another towards the centre of the pool. Such an occurrence would certainly have caused a few broken bones if not drownings, misadventures that would require the aid of lifeguards to which Interval could not find a single one.

What had gauged Interval's interest the most about this region was the complex network of waterslides, not because of the fulfillment and joy they provided to those brash enough to plummet down their bellies but rather the sheer implausibility of their construction. The primary mountain in the back corner of the park continued onward along the back wall with a multitude of smaller peaks, the ever so disturbing orange plastic grass being a staple. They were considerably more so narrower than the mountain they ventured out from but failed ever much so to reach even half of its height, a fact that held true right up until the corner. Here the row of peaks ended, instead taking a massive monolithic mountain face and flattening it out into a circular base, supporting on its back several thick purple painted stone pillars that travelled into the sky like a spirally tower on account of the steps that curled around the otherwise straight frame like a screw. It was at the top of this tower that the majority of the slides were reliant upon; the height giving ample powers of speed brought on by the pull of gravity and the power of gushing water that served to take away any friction that might by chance slow a passenger down. The purple plastic tinted slides themselves were for the most part full circular enclosures, a must since several of them traversed into the mountain side and ventured out from the sides providing a drop of several feet to the plateau of water; it was indeed the splash of this drop that was most recognizable all around Interval whom continually attempted to ignore it but inevitably encountered the more so annoying cheers of excited children every time he had accomplished such a feat of ignorance.

It was one slide in particular that had stricken Interval as being odd, not necessarily out of place, but odd. Unlike the other solid drops to the water below, this one had a loop in its path, a completely circular run of an enclosed tube that would have put a hot wheels track to shame with its fifteen foot wide diameter. Even with the speed brought on by the pull of gravity, the amount of power behind the waters push down the slide would have to be tremendous if one would ever have hoped to pass through the loop. Such an important necessity however appeared to go ignored by those daring – as well as brave - enough to try it. It was not long till Interval found the failings of one child. The young boy in blue patterned swimming shorts was nursing an injury to his leg, situated on the other side of the pool from where Interval stood, slumped to the wet tiled floor just off to the side of the looped slide's drop off. Everyone around continued in their frantic activities completely oblivious to the pains that one of their own had experienced through the near impossible challenge of the looped slide.

"Is there no Occupational Safety and Health Association in this era?" Interval coldly openly questioned, fully aware of its rhetorical yet heavy handed base. He was soon drawn to looking into the sad brown eyes of the boy across the body of water, the poor boy's lips on the verge of trembling. The muscles of his leg looked to be out of a place, a bone fracture no doubt having hit upon some tendon that would need some immediate attention. "Is there anyone here who can help you?" the tall speedster dropped down to a single knee and immediately set upon arching his head around the boy's fallen form to get a clear view of the boy's face, "and adult, or perhaps one of your parents?" The wetness on the boy's head of black hairs was slowly becoming frizzled with the onset of drying, he must have had been sitting out here like this for some time, "are there any life guards at all?" his head shot up, blistering a look in every which direction but only came upon the other children struggling around in the water as the pattern of body sized waves began to take in effect, some of the many splashes already being felt upon his chin.

"I don't…." the boy attempted to hobble up to stand on his good leg but could not overcome the twitching of his bad one. The boy suddenly looked up to him, the evidence of streaming tears being notable detractors to the redness that had come to pepper his face.

"Alright," Interval took in a deep gulp. He circled in his arms around the boys back, reaching in a hand under his shoulder, "I'm going to get you to a hospital," he nodded to boy, establishing an understanding face to face, "OK?"

* * *

The chair lift was radically simple: a bench of orange coloured plastic that was completely solid through from the neck line down all the way to the heel, perfectly moulded so as to suit the sitting bodies of up to two people, including for their benefit well-rounded armrests on the outsides and a sizable floor space for their feet. The only source of safety was a beam that hovered in from behind over top of their heads to land firmly against their stomachs, the necessary arms on each end of the beam being nicely secured just on the outside of the armrest whose curve they match wholly. It was not exactly a tight fit, anyone with enough exuberance, a trait mostly shared throughout the park, could easily wrestle their way free of the restrain not that the wheel like hinges that brought the bar down would post much restraint; the occupants did have to at some point lift the bar over their head. No, the only thing keeping the people in their seats was the fear of dropping several feet down to the plastic orange grass slopes of the mountain face. This particular fear however did not bother either Iota or Nightwing whom were both silent in their wondering as to why they bothered to take one of these slow moving chairs up in the first place when they could just have easily flown.

"Great view," Iota spoke through a sarcastic hush, his arms coming to lie down next to one another upon the protective bar where, when comfortable, he let out a moaning sigh as he slumped forward.

"Yes, yes," Nightwing returned with a similar tone to his voice though opted to instead fall back against the seat with his head barely reaching over top of the curving ledge of the chair, experiencing much difficulty in getting over that hump, "yes it is," he followed through with a moan of his own.

Among other fears that passengers on this chair lift no doubt experienced on the way up were the support cables that ran through the pulley system on tall 'H' shaped concrete monuments that dotted the surface of the mountain face; a single six inch wide, half inch thick wheel in-between two running black wires was literally the only thing keeping the chair where it was. The wise ones did not dare look up to its movements, holding a superficial belief that the two bars on each side of the chair top was enough to keep the wheel straight and turning little knowing that the wires haphazardly slipped up once and while in the grooves. While the chairlift did much to steer away from the sliding track lines of grey by going around the sides, there were occasions where the chairs lined up evenly with them and while the boys were bored with the sluggish movements their interests peaked momentarily when two boys like themselves up ahead began to reign a firestorm of spit upon the riders below, the pace at which they moved meaning that the sitters would have to spit long in advance if they were to make contact and it just so happened that such an occurrence happened a few seconds after the two heroes recognizes the spews of saliva. The rider in his plastic toboggan slipped off the track but the acquired inertia was enough to encourage movement onward, twisting the rider around to the point where the bottom side of the toboggan was almost completely visible from the air. Within the span of four seconds the rider's shoulder and matching cheeks smashed into the multitude of plastic grass blades, hands immediately losing their grip around the plastic board as the body continued toward the ledge of the mountain face and tumbled down the steep sides with bone crushing velocity.

Both Nightwing and Iota swivelled around in their chair best they could, the rider having long since slid underneath them and beyond the face of the mountainside. "When did this place become Action Park?" Iota snarled as he returned to sitting straight forward on the bench.

"Let's not ride on this side," Nightwing fumbled in response as he too swiftly turned to face the right way, the top of the mountain being now only about a minutes distance away.

Iota began to impatiently tap his open fingers against the steel bar, humming a tune while Nightwing pleasantly sat with a small grin. "Do you think he's just using us?" Iota spouted off the moment his hands came to grasp around the bar, his head lurching closely to Nightwing, his chin nearly touch his colleague's shoulder.

"What?" Nightwing came off as shocked, his hands likewise fitting around the bar with some muscle to it, "who?"

"Interval," Iota sharply responded, "do you even know who he is, who he really is?"

"He's a kid from the future," Nightwing casually responded, "and from a different planet…."

"Yeah, but don't you ever think he brings us in so he can accomplish his goals easier?" Iota continued to prod his colleague for some opinions, leaning forward ever so slightly so that they could look face to face without the knocking of shoulders, "that thing that you stole from Wayne Tech."

"The D3C3-N20?" Nightwing smiled as he ventured into a sly tongue, "or as I call it…the Decent."

"Yeah, whatever…" Iota shook his head, "it was when he planning on finding it, he brought up all that nonsense about hacking league signals, but maybe he just wanted it so he could use it for something," he grunted, "probably doesn't even do half the things he said it does."

"No it does," Nightwing became giddy, shaking his head in delight.

"He even was upset when you weren't around to help him find it because you have all these connections to Wayne Enterprises or something," he shied away, "look," he tossed his hands over the rail nonchalantly, "I'm the most powerful member on this team…I don't understand why I shouldn't be the one to lead it. I believe that I've been completely open with the both of you and I think I've shown myself to be capable of keeping your secrets. Why can't I be the one to make the decisions?"

"It's because you're boring," Nightwing responded with a strong backing to his voice that certainly sent shockwaves through Iota's mode of thinking, "Interval and I, we have complex mythologies and an extensive family lineage that a lot of people care and know about, we have all the shock value while a relative unknown like yourself is now just seeing a bit of spotlight that the two of us already have by birth alone. People will wait weeks to read a little bit more about us while kindly writing you off as our towel boy or something, that kid who takes up far too much time…"

"I'm interesting," Iota asserted himself, "There are things going on in my life that far exceed anything you've ever done with yours."

Nightwing let out a sigh of accomplishment, pandering the Iota's qualms, "and as far as leadership is concerned," he began to vigorously shake his right hand, index finger pointed to air while others laid flat against the palm, "there is a long history of Bat-Boys holding the position of leadership, it's a given right when it comes to young superhero teams…" he leaned into Iota with a buddy like nudge, "I dare you to name one team of young heroes whose leader was not a Bat-Boy when one was on the team already."

"Fine," Iota stomped the bulk of his palms against the bar, pushing off with much ferocity, "but I don't want to be just your heavy hitter. I can do a lot more than just create big boxing gloves and punch people with them," he pulled his arms and against his chest as he leaned back, growling with some angry slants to his brows, "a lot more."

The top of the mountain was relatively flat, the only clumps and mounds of plastic moulded earth being along the cornered outline that ran upwards of the wall. It was also in this corner that stacks of sleds, a cumbersome amount of them, were in wait for the prying hands of children. They were about a metre in length, fully rectangular in shaped however well-rounded around each corner. The back half was basically a hollowed box that extended down the centre of the latter half thus creating deep slots on either side wide enough to fit feet into. There was not much to hold onto, the trim around the ledges was no more than a thumb print high though, too much relief, the foot slots of course provided some high outside walling. It appeared that the design called for the occupant to work a throttle stick, a straight up steel rod about a foot long with a nifty lightly coloured rubber bulb on top; it served the purpose of pressuring down a rubber foot against the track thereby reducing speed through the powers of friction. As was to be expected, the colours only came in the gaudy shades of purple and orange, Nightwing quickly latching onto the former since it more so matched to his favourite colour while Iota took on an orange one for the sake of differentiations.

They were in the company of nearly two dozen other park goers; some of them more than eager to get onto one of the tracks and others hesitantly holding their sleds up in front of their chests, uncertain as to whether they had the bravado to take on the cuts and bends of the track that left many injured before. As the latter category possessed the majority, Nightwing and Iota had minimal difficulty in getting to the front, finding two tracks that nearly ran parallel to one another, at least at the beginning, being no more than six feet apart. The tracks themselves were half pipes nearly four feet across and about one third of that in depth. Much to the detriment of many kids whom would tempt themselves to ride down the slope, the tracks were primarily made of finely smooth fibreglass with an outer trim of concrete that no doubt caused numerous abrasions and scraps especially around the turns where the barrier around rose nearly half circle. These particular worries were once more less than bothersome to the two heroes as they approached their respective track starts, both taking a few moments for themselves to analyze the twists and turns that awaited them if they so choose to take them on.

"Now, now, this is a better view," Iota pressed his hands to fit around his waist, nodding with a very few blinks as he looked out into the park area, impressed by the loops of the rollercoaster, the high twisting arcs of the waterslides with the clean pool at their ends, as well as the people, the children at various ages in a multitude of colourful apparel that really mixed in well with the overall theme of mismatching hues that filled in the park. It was this sound, this excitement, that smell, which created the atmosphere which he ever so savoured on top of the high peak.

"It's a true Russian mountain," Nightwing bent out his knees to lower down to the start of the track, the flat faced top of the mountain quickly entering into the steepness of its slope. The white of his eyes narrowed down the track line, finding there to be at least twelve curving turns that would require the proper finesse and just the right kind of push to get by with the power of his downward acquired speed in check.

"Hey, what's with the costume?" a sweetly tipped voice caught Iota off guard, causing a jolt of a movement that began at his neck and drove straight down to his feet, a most unpleasant feeling as he realized he would need to recover some dignity to himself if the speaker was anything like he imagined. She was a young girl of a height that nicely matched to his. She wore a tight fitting pair of cream coloured shorts with a well fitted thick white shirt noted for the absence of sleeves, showcasing the smoothness of her arms. Her hair was cut short along the sides but kept heavy on the top where it curved around over her forehead to reach back behind her ear; the most unique bit was the light purple tint that was evasive through her hair. The strange colour fit to her angular eyes quite handsomely given that they held an almost aquatic like blue that glistened towards purple on account of bright hues of her surroundings. A closed lipped smile fell across her face as the boy appeared to be quite flustered.

"He's a part of the Green Lantern Corp," Nightwing cried with an air of discontent over this girl's sudden appearance, "isn't that…" he lingered on as he looked up to see her, "kind of obvious?" It quickly became apparent that she was not alone; standing beside her was an equally as tall girl with lusciously long black hair in a blue long sleeved shirt and thigh reaching black dress noted for the inter-mingling of rectangular slabs that appeared to make it up.

"Really?" the purple haired girl clasped her hands together at her waist, falling back a bit in obvious disbelief.

"Well, I have a ring," Iota shook up his fist, showcasing the ring fitted there. He couldn't overcome the smile, letting his teeth show as he caught upon the girls' brazen faces, completely filled with marvel. Both of them were quick to plead for an opportunity to look at the device, seeing how it now glistened with a strong shade of green that overcame the dark circular plat of its top.

"That's so cool," her soft hands came to clasp around Iota's ring hand, he willingly allowing her and her friend to do so.

"Believe me," Nightwing placed the sled down in front of himself, poised to get a comfortable in its seat, "he's not that interesting," he shook his head in an affirming manner, "see, I don't need fancy power rings or super human abilities to be a super hero, I've honed my mind and body for the pure selfless reason of ensuring that the both you will sleep soundly at night,"

"So," the girl snapped up into a sarcastic demeanour, "a plain boy like you is a greater hero than a Green Lantern?"

"I never said I was plain but rather unique in my sole desire of ensuring your safety at the cost of my life," Nightwing looked out to the park and all its grandness, fawning a hand across as to insinuate its entirety, "look out there," he winked back towards the two girls, "you will not find a greater hero out there than the one sitting right here in your company," he pointed both his hands down into his lap, reasserting them with a raise and drop, "light-boy here, he needs the ring to gain your attention, while as I on the other hand merely do so by who I am."

"Cram it bat-boy," Iota stomped down his foot into one of the slots in his orange sled, angrily stepping forward so as to make himself comfortable in its sitting arrangement, "your just a snappy little twip in a Halloween costume," he nudged forward, scrapping along the plastic grass to get to the ledge heading down, "I'll slap you every which way down without the ring."

Nightwing smirked as his pompous behaviour managed to hit upon the right strings and vibes in his Lantern teammate; with the ring out of the question, he was now open to do a bit of cheating under the radar of course. The ocular plate in his cowl began to heat up into a sheet of blue that blended quite awkwardly against the orange grass, the overlapping producing the most sickening flavour of purple. The effect of this blend was held up for only a few seconds, quickly beginning to fade from the grass line as the focus turned upon the track line of fibreglass and concrete, the greys therein now becoming the most vibrant of blues. He had plotted out his course and applied the appropriate computer techniques and configurations that would apply to him just the right finesse through the cybernetic enhancements in his suit, there was no way he could lose…but should he fall behind at any time, it was not that far of stretch for him to slip up his legs in behind his body and use the boot boosters to gain some ground.

Both of them hopped along to the ledge, eyes transfixed on the path that lay ahead. With one last look at each other they could feel the animosity boiling in between them and with that understanding they fully gave into the teetering of the sled, falling into the curving track producing the harshest of purring sounds as the hard plastic met an even harder substance in fibreglass and skid forward at an unimaginable speed.

* * *

Interval was genuinely interested in the carnival games, the difficulty of the challenge despite their simplistic natures, and thus immediately set out for the opposing corner of the water park where the stretched triangular and pyramid tops resided. The booths here were relatively simple in design. The four sided pyramid ones in particular made due with a stomach high wall all around their square perimeters, their design being foot wide vertical strips of alternating purples and oranges fitting well within the wholeness of the park. Four inch thick poles in each corner held up the metal wire frame that built up the stretched clothed ceiling. These square booths suited games that did not require a strong back wall, the most popular being a ring tossing game that required the player to flick a circular rubber like ring onto a pike that rose up from a prize, in most cases that being either a large ugly looking stuffed creature, the common one being a large stuffy of that man's face from the Ferris Wheel attached to an orange and purple space suit, or a box that promoted a gaming station of some sort. Watching for no more than ten seconds, Interval came to the realization that that the rings would not under any circumstance fit around the fullness of the white spikes that jutted up from the head of the stuffys; indeed, they could easily fit around the arrow like spike but it was the lower rungs, the star like purple pattern beneath the narrowing point that prevented the ring from touching the top of the stuffy's head that would signal a victory.

The stretched out triangular tops often continued further back to create a sizable rectangular field of play, the shape strip thus being not much more than to show that there was a booth there. Most of the back walls to these booths were placed in such a way as to make the distance one of the contributing factors to the tosses. To Interval's eye, he found there to be a game of darts, the objective being to the pop the balloons plastered along the walls but upon a short term analysis he found the darts to be extremely dull and the balloons to be extremely deflated making a pop that much more difficult to achieve. Another game required the player to chuck a soft ball at a tower of silver looking milk cans. It wasn't long till he determined that the bottom rung of cans, usually four across, were heavily weighted at the bottoms; he could only assume that the ball was less than its standard weight. One of the more popular games required players to take hold of a bee-bee firing rifle and shoot down the image of a red star imposed on a small slip of paper down at the end of the firing range. It was simple in theory but of the three attempts he witnessed the gun jammed up far too often. The pellets must have been too small for the rifle's barrel, no doubt done on purpose.

It was purely a strange if not an awkward experience for the eyes of someone from a far off future where such games were for the most part unknown or unheard of save for those whom would study earth culture throughout its history as he had done so. He had never seen people so willing pass on funds to play a game for prizes that were surely a fraction of the price they paid to begin with, it was either by the shrewdness of the vendors or the sheer lack of intelligence on the halves of the players that kept this business running; Interval was willing to bet on it being the former.

Interval had become particularly intrigued by what he believed to be a popular event, the one where the customer was expected to take an over inflated orange ball and toss it into a hoop a short distance away, the wooden boards at the back being a recognized factor in the multitude of failures he witnessed, most ball landing squarely upon it and bouncing around at every which angle; the probability of successfully getting the ball through the hoop by way of bank shot was extremely slim and even more so impossible when he came to the realization that the hoop was flattened, so much so that it appeared unlikely that the ball would fly through it with ease even on a straight shot for it. It was upon the understanding of this rigged set that Interval approached the booth with a desire to attempt to overcome it albeit with his own conditions.

"I'd like to give this a try," Interval stepped up to the front wall of the booth. The stretched triangular top overhead happened to be in this case that vibrant purple with that offsetting orange as its trim. It was a much longer stretch than the other booths he saw, the basket being nearly behind the purple top when viewed straight on. The flat roof was fully enclosed, Interval forced to rely on the little yet many bright bulbs of orange light that fluctuated around the backboard of the hoop like an air strip that guided the ball to its home. "Sir?" This was the first time he had seen someone who wasn't a patron of the park though there was something vaguely familiar about him. He was a small impish looking being, the top of his head being just about on par with Interval's waist. The long white hair that fell along his sides were stretched out back like gelled wings, thick black rimmed, blue spectacle glasses fit over top of his long spindly nose fully engrossing his eyes, and then there was that hat, the one Interval had already seen on the man in the Ferris wheel, the purple bowler hat with the sharpening green stalk and subsequent flower jutting in from behind his head. Interval was quick to assume that there was a policy on uniform for the man wore purple pixie boots and near matching gloves as well as a short sleeved orange body suit with purple trims around the end of the sleeves and the collar; he looked like he had ripped the costume off of one of the stuffed dolls.

"Three shots to win," the squeaky yet coarse voice caught Interval off guard, the small hands of the gamesman picking up one of the hyper-inflated orange balls and chucking it towards him, "you've got five shots for the right price."

Interval rose up the green cred cart he nabbed from Nightwing. With an open smile, the odd looking gamesman grabbed hold of the card, using both hands to bend it a little as though its authenticity was in question. He pulled up a little grey box like those found on the doors in from behind the wall of the booth and nimbly worked the black line of the card into the appropriate slot, pressing it down for a scan, "go ahead mark," he nodded, that sickening smile unwavering from its wholesome position.

Three things are believed to have happened at this point. For starters, the ball needed to be deflated exponentially so Interval proceeded to rapidly excel his hands through the ball, taking with the minor punctures he created a bit of the air. Secondly, the rim's shape needed to be made more accessible and thus he bolted overtop of the wall and ran across the playing area, pushing a hand on the rim and pulling back as he stepped up his speed to get back at the front of the booth. He moved so fast that he hardly expected the gamesman would have noticed any differentiation in his position. And finally: the shot. It was evident that the gamesman was mocking him as interval found it necessary to use both of his hands on the ball since he was unsure how the game of real basketball was played. That chattering chuckle the man tossed himself into was abruptly shut down the moment the ball slid through the rim with ease, a perfect goal on an even more perfect swing shot.

"Hey!" The gamesman voice instantly dropped from the high pitched tone Interval had expected of him. He was out rightly disturbed in the most terrible of fashions when he heard the ball slump down to the hard wood floor beneath the booth with a thud, "how did you do that," he snapped off at Interval, swiftly jumping up to the ledge of the fence front so that he could squarely look down his enemy.

"You're game was rigged. I thought it was to fix some" Interval retorted in his strong monotone, "the ball is overinflated and the hoop is more oval than circular; no one was expected to win so I changed the parameters of my attempt," the gamesman turned around with a furious swing, hands heavy into fists at his sides, anger fuming when he saw that the hoop had been bent to become more round, the rolling ball much more smaller than he remembered, "in fact all the games here are rigged, I haven't seen one person win…that's the worst form of doing business if the intention was to rig the games on purpose; someone was bound to notice sooner or later."

"What do you want?" the impish man questioned with a snarl as he turned back to the speedster, "a prize?"

"I want to talk to your boss."

"My boss eh," the gamesman's angry tune fell down into a more light-hearted vibe, his hand reaching up to his chin and beginning to rub as he aimed up one side of his face towards the boy.

"I had to take a boy to the hospital with a fractured tibia," Interval hurriedly stepped up into his informative voice though rightfully filled with a furious temperament, "he received the injury from one of the implausible waterslides in the water park. I haven't seen any safety measures taken on the part of this park, no lifeguards, no helmets given to riders of the alpine slide…I want to see your boss now," he nodded with clenched teeth.

"Well, it's your lucky day it's your lucky day kid," the man whipped up both hands to the side of his head, grabbing hold of the edges of his white hair and stretching them out to the sides as far he could, releasing them with a cartoonish popping sound as they unfurled into the recognizable rocket curls. The glasses fell free from his nose, revealing the jewels that were his purple egg white like eyes. More stunning however was the fact that this man was floating through the air, driving in closer to Interval face, forcing the speedster to fall back, tripping him up to the point that he nearly tumbled to the ground in a subdued shock, "I'm right here," the man threw out his hands like bird's wing, the happiness on his face being more than any number of park goers combined.

* * *

The tactical part of the theme park, as was firmly stated in its name, was restricted to a large square arena of plastic purple foot squared tiles. Surrounding its straight edges were thin black rubber coated wires, crisscrossing on a diagonal slant thereby creating small millimetres wide diamond shapes in the open spaces. The fence hit a height attune to somewhere in-between the stomach and the chest, closed off along the top with a hard plastic purple pipe, both aspects a necessity considering what lined up along all sides; cannons. It was primarily a two foot long pipe, one much wider than that of the fence's rail, with a one and a half sided square frame surrounding it, the evident top of the central pipe being melded to the bottom of the top line of the square frame. The hedging out wings of the square were made in such a way that person's hands could wrap around them and as a result shift the aim of the front of the cannon, this being done considerably easy since the back end of the central pipe abruptly shot down to the top of the fence's rail were a small ball joint allowed for a near full turn. There were three of these cannons to each fence side, well-spaced out to each other to ensure a rather broad spectrum of reach through the arena. In each corner of the square platform of plastic were tubular cement pillars that reached about two stories high, holding on their backs a rather simple looking solid canopy that was more so solid in materials than the cloth types found in the carnival booths; its sides were quarter circle slides about two feet deep with its topside being as fully flat as the ground it protected from the effects of the weather.

The purpose of the fence riding cannons only became obvious when one recognized the small electric powered tanks that roamed the arena floor. Their bottom halves were mostly box like, straight sides with a mostly flat bottom base. The broad sides were nearly a metre and a half long with about two thirds of that in height; just big enough to fit one fully bodied person inside. The mode of movement was less like a tread mat found on fully sized tanks and more like four bubble like small tires on each side, assuredly making turning the greatest of difficulties. The top of the box was more so rounded in the front corners, sloping for the benefit of the tall circular turret piece that the seated persons upper chest and head fitted into. It was a bit awkward looking as the long pipe, similar to those of the cannons, was fitted in such a way that it lined with the tanker's chest but continued upward like a round stalk so as to contain their head. Only a simple uncovered slot that fitted around the turret's curvature allowed the person inside to see the arena. Oddly enough, the tanks were painted a fine military green though with the ball like tires fitted to that all too conventional purple. The only abstraction to the relieving shade of green was the thin black pads that decked the lower regions of the turret as well as decked the entirety of the chassis in their inch thick grasp. They were sensor strips, catching onto the data of a collision and immediately causing the engine of the tank to crash for a few seconds; therefore, it was in the tanker's best interest to keep them covered while simultaneously knocking the opponents out with the turret cannon which shot a yellow ball that fit that size, shape, and consistency of a tennis ball. The cannons on the fence side were the greatest of surprises, those waiting in line took to them with an earnest to shoot the tanks from their safety behind the fence, more than often than not, the gang of them focussed upon one particular tank, preventing the poor person inside from moving much more than a foot before having the engine crash again.

Both Iota and Nightwing had taken to one of their tanks, the latter of the two believing himself to be quite the tactical genius, swivelling around the tanks turret at a lightning speed and throttling the tires to the side best he could to strafe out of the way of incoming projectiles; over and over again, his brilliance was more than a match for those whom would dare to take him on, he certainly enjoying it more than anyone else in the arena was currently. Iota however was experience a bit of annoyance with the screeching noise of heavy plastic against the solid floor, not to mention the powerful bursts of the cannons, his alone being ear numbing in addition to setting him off course with every shot. "I'm not going to let that twip beat me again," he coldly reminded himself, his green mask being the only visible part of him within that open visor. He sifted through the array of other tanks, watching the smiles of the onlookers as they reached for the fencing riding weapons to get involved in the battle, "where is he?" he questioned with the curious twisting of his tank, hands holding strongly to the throttle stick. Boom! The cannon blew off with a simple tap of the button that sat atop of the stick's knob, throttling his tank closer back to the wall from the recoil. Direct hit! He complimented himself as the yellow sphere knocked into a tank that made a path across his line of vision, an all too simple target given the fully exposed side. He was indeed showing some early success in his campaign but it was beginning to happen far too often that the throttle stick would become hard, having been hit on occasion from one of the balls…it was on the seventh time that he froze up with a festering rage, imagining Nightwing nimbly work his way in and out of the lines of fire to return upon them a volley of victory; how many times did the twip hit him already? A feeling of relief, fresh air, fell upon his face and stretched out it cool pattern across his body; he had an idea which could not fail. The ring around his finger began to glow madly, quickly growing to encapsulate the inner chamber that he sat in. Soon the emerald energy seeped out from the visor with its crystalline strength, flowing up around the turret's head and smoothing out down the rounded sides of the chasse, stalling only at the tires so movement was still accessible. The sensor strips had been full covered, thankful that the tanks shade of green blended fittingly to his ring's emerald tint; he was now unstoppable, invincible.

Everything for the young Lantern was lined up now, he shovelled through the masses with a new edge of fearlessness, overcoming the spattering rays of fires from the fence line so that he could meet his fellow tankers head on, bashing up closely before reeling in with the firing of a spitting yellow projectile. The rubber balls filtered off the hull of his tank, backtracking to the floor where they were easily pushed aside by the ground crunching of the tank's bottom. A new thrill had overcome him, he had hacked the game and there was absolutely no one around to stop him save for possibly his nemesis whom he thought to be plotting his humiliation. With quick rapid successive fires and hits, three tanks in the corner were shut down, giving in to Iota's might as he sought to corner in the final operating tank, "I've got you Nightwing!" he shouted with glee as he slammed his fingers around the throttle stick with a bolster slap down of his thumb on the firing button. The recoil and the hit had happened as expected but there was something wrong with this tank he had cornered, mainly that the visor was empty, the inside being completely dark absent of a head. Iota bustle his way up through the hatch, angrily flipping up the circular top of his tank to get his head out, weaselling his chest to get up, "where are you!" he screamed with ferocity at the tank. A sudden jolt came at the back of his head, something had smashed up against him nearly sending him over the front of the tank, "what…." he moaned as he attempted to straightened back up, turning over to take a look at who had fired upon him.

"Here!" Nightwing screamed with cheer seeping out his eyes and wide tooth filled smile. He had long since abandoned his tank, opting to take hold of one of the outside fence cannons which he proceeded to volley upon his teammate, over and over again get the yellow projectiles to smashing into the Lantern's shoulders and chest with the occasional bounce of the head. He had overcome Iota's cheat albeit with a cheat of his own.

* * *

"Who are you?" Interval pointed up to the flying free impish man who corralled through the air like a bird with arms fully extended outward at his sides, closed fingered hands flapping loosely like wings. Wearing a near full orange body suit with purple boots and gloves, the smallish entity was an easy contrast to the near mint blue skies.

"No, no," the imp man did one last looping twirl that brought him upright, feet aimed to the ground as he hovered lowly to meet Interval, "the question is who are you strange speedster."

"I knew I had seen that face somewhere before!" Interval quickly whipped around to his backside in search for the source of the shout, its unique sound being something he closely associated with a teammate of his. Nightwing, along with Iota, were working their way through the mass of moving bodies and along the jagged hard path between the decorative booths to get up close to where the strange imp was standing. In the process of each step, Nightwing let the declarative point of his index finger flop around at the end of his fully extended arm while the other hand cupped firmly to his chin, "Myx-yez…" they soon came to a startling stop three strides back of Interval whom returned to his focus on the strange being, "no," Nightwing tossed up his hands as though he planned to do push-ups in the air, "its Myx-yez-spit…Missie-yes-spit-lick."

"You forgot the mister," the imp raised up his chin, that perfectly white smile growing ever so widely to the point of becoming a mirror image of the one seen on the large round hubcap of the Ferris wheel albeit of a smaller variety, "Mister Mxyzptlk."

"He's an enemy of Superman," Nightwing clutched Iota closely wrapping up his left hand into the Lantern's upper uniform, just above the triangles of white of the Lantern emblem, stretching it towards him as best he could while his right hand continued to point towards the small figure beyond Interval, "you have to get him-"

"I'm on it," Iota slapped down Nightwing's grasping arm just as he was throwing his strong foot forward to get in gear to unleash a devastating punch on the little reality warper. He blew right by Interval, fist pulled back beyond his torso where he swiftly generated a superimposition of the fists details with the illustrious energy provided by his Lantern's ring, a sizable punching hand more or less the size of the little imps body in its entirety

Mxyzptlk however did not flinch in the slightest, continuing on with that cheery smile as the full extent of his fate became that much larger with every passing stride of the young Lantern. Just as the punch was about to collide…"Whoa," Nightwing moaned as the ground around him, the brown speckled dirt, began to shift on a turn like he had just been spun around an infinite amount of times on a public's park's steel merry-go-round, his feet holding a single position while everything around him blurred into a swath of colours, one of which became more evident above the others; green.

"What?" Iota cried out as the massive crystalline emerald fist of his creation dissipated to its simples of lines before it conceded to the air complete. The power behind his furious punch was construed upon a target he did not choose, the imp having vanished and placed a teammate in his place. He stood their baffled, watching as Nightwing tumbled to the ground shoulder first, that shocked expression, that wide eyed stare, being the last thing he remembered before the punch inevitably collided.

"Hilarious," Mxyzptlk chimed in as Nightwing met the ground two more times on a series of bounces before finally plopping to the ground in a sprawl on his stomach, all appendages reaching out at angles away from his body. He furiously reiterated his distress as he lifted his head up, chin rubbing up the flat plain of the ground. He looked on ahead of himself, coming to see the line-up of persons consisting of Interval, Mxyzptlk, and Iota just slightly ahead, recoil backwards slightly after the punch threw him a bit off balance. Interval looked down to the small imp beside him having taken the position once held by Nightwing, "these must be friends of yours. Quite the team…haven't had this much fun with someone from your dimension since the big blue left town," he nudged in his nearest elbow into the speedster's leg with a bit of a wink to his eyes.

"Who are you?" Interval barked.

"Blaaaah…." Nightwing groaned as he pulled himself up onto his knees, slowly but surely pushing his hands against the hard ground to get upright on the soles of his feet showing great strains in doing so, "I was trying to say that all we have to do is get him to say his name backwards…" he stepped forward slightly, wobbling around with a hefty shaking sway to his head as though the joint of his neck had lost its tightness, "its Kli-tip…season?" he sighed, building up the act, "How do you pronounce it?" his jaw became loose and flabby just as his legs were, the shaky steps finally leading into another plopping down to the ground, this time holding up on his knees just in front of the little imp so they ended up face to face.

"I like you," Mxyzptlk pressed up a finger to the centre of Nightwing's forehead, gingerly pressing forward ever so slightly to increase the wobble. It became increasingly obvious by his candour like façade that he had seen through the ruse that Nightwing had prepared to entice him in, "but you see, that's one of the many agreements I made with Superman…no, no, I'm afraid that will just not do for any of us."

"You still haven't answered my question," Interval stepped away from the imp, turning around as he did so to ensure that his eyes did not leave the sight of him. He was soon joined by Iota and the recently standing Nightwing whom was now shaking his various body parts back into gear as he assumed his position at the centre of them, the speedster on his right, the Lantern on his left.

"I'm an imp from the fifth dimension," Mxyzptlk began to hover upwards, bringing up his head to match the three surrounding boys. In a quick nasty second, his arms crossed over his chest while the cheek raising smile deflated to a scowl, "and you're trespassing in my amusement park…you and your misguided do-gooding ways," he tossed out a hand towards Interval and shook it wildly, "your sucking out all the fun?" he spread out all his limbs as the cheer returned with a drawn back head and smile if not for but a short second, "we can't have that at all," he levelled back in with a scold.

"You're park?" Iota batted up an eyebrow.

"We paid," Nightwing shook his head in an affirmative matter before drawing back into the hunching his shoulders. He pulled his hands into the cave created by his slightly lowered head and began to use the tips of his right fingers to count of the fingers of his left, "ohhh," he came back up with a less than helpful nod, an epiphany having drawn up in his head, "The Most X-treme Youngster's Zone for Pandemonium and Tactical Legionnaires who want to Kill Something…."

"MXYZPTLK'S…" the imp man affirmed, "Park," he popped out the final word from puckered lips.

"I still hold to my standing that that's not a very creative name," Iota shook his head in disappointment.

"You try matching languages from the fifth dimension to the primitive minds of yours," Mxyzptlk snapped up closely to Iota's face, cramming their noses together so their eyes had no choice but to look into one another.

"Yeah, see I was hoping that when I got here I could get the kids to call it," Nightwing waved out his hands into the airs, spreading them across as though he were creating a sign, "Massacre Park."

"But why are you here?" Interval calmed down to his usual monotone.

Mxyzptlk popped right back from Iota's face at lightning speed, nonchalantly suspending himself in the air as he had done before with a small closed mouth grin and wavering eyes, "I have to say that pestering the man of tomorrow on his quest to save the universe would be rather cruel…he was always such a polite man," he laid out the back of his hands to his waist line, stretching out the fingers which he looked to with a pompous puff out of his chest, "you see," he zipped his head right back up, "I felt really disappointed in myself after all those years of helping, assisting-"

"Annoying," Nightwing butted in.

Mxyzptlk suddenly slumped, eyelids drooped lowly down his cartoonish eyes, "yes well, I thought I might do him a favour now that he's gone and give to the youths of this fine nation the opportunity for some fun, fun, fun," the smile propped right back up, "here we have kids from all over the country, I've given to them a thrilling smashing experience they might not get in their otherwise miserable lives."

"Not only are you attractions here dangerous," Interval asserted himself, "but you have no one of staff whom can effectively regulate their operations and there absolutely no safety protocol to mention of."

"Who at this age wants to be given a list of rules…I've only given them two," The imp muscled his arms back across his chest.

"Yeah um," Nightwing stretched a hand to the back of his head, "we saw a rider fall off the alpine slide," he nudged a look over to Interval, "I'm not entirely sure that he survived."

"You're scamming these kids out of their currency," Interval stepped forward.

"Really?" Mxyzptlk chuckled, "that's where you heroes' draw the line? Ah, you young ones are so much more fun. Heh," he buttoned up his glistening smirk, "the currency of this measly planet is of no concern of mine…if you truly must know, I've set the funds earned aside to support some children's hospitals," he tossed out his hand along with the less than enthusiastic tone to his voice, like he didn't even care.

"Yeah, the hospital's your probably sending them to," Iota barked.

"Kid's need the risk," Mxyzptlk enunciated strongly, "isn't that why you all dress up in your funny costumes and fight people three times your size? Fun?" he lingered off for a moment of time, the rhetorical basis meaning he did not expect an answer from his less than amused company, "don't you understand? I'm doing this out of the kindness of my heart," he pawed his hands to his chest, "this is for the children…all the scams, all the breath taking rides, the risk and dangers involved in the attractions…this is a time honoured tradition on your planet that I am well versed in. It's all there for you if you would just allow it."

"We can't let this continue," Interval asserted himself once more, "someone's going to wind up with something a lot worse than just a bone fracture," he looked over to his teammates, "we have to get everyone out of here."

"I think they might want to stay…" Mxyzptlk looked to his surroundings with his grin, motioning for the three heroes to follow in his wandering, a chin pull here and there, "why don't we ask them whether they want to keep this place open?"

None of the three heroes had fully realized how quiet everything had become since they were greeted by the fifth dimension's most notorious member. Through the woodwork of the booths were hundreds upon hundreds of kids, all ranging through the ages, looking at the three as they crowded over the park's owner like he was some kind of criminal, eyes wide with uncertainty as to what exactly was happening and indeed what could happen should the young heroes succeed in their venture to shut this place down. While Nightwing became paranoid by all the stares and Iota was disturbed by the looks given off by the two girls he met on the mountains, Interval was complete cool, holding his grudging stare at the little imp, "what will it take to make you leave?"

"Hmm," Mxyzptlk hummed away, his purple irises fluttering to the upper corners of his eyes, "a new challenge, a new agreement…" he returned to Interval with his trademark smile, "I'll shall leave your plain of existence and return to normal everything I have touched upon the condition that one of you defeat me at any one of my parks attractions," he levelled in a point of his finger to the chest of each hero, one swing at a time, bringing their attention right back up to the man's now sinister looking smirk, "three tries, one for each of you."

"Yeah, we can do that," Nightwing stepped up, speaking on behalf of all his teammates though the two appeared rather shocked if not petrified by the fast fired decision making. Nightwing put on his best growl of competition as he straightened his head in towards the imp, "I'll take you in a race down the alpine slide!"

* * *

"You cheated?" Iota questioned with scorn, knowing full well where the answer laid on the positive scale.

"Of course I did," Nightwing snapped off in response as he dropped the purple flavoured sled to the ground in front of him, the light weight somehow crushing the sharp plastic eye gouging orange grass of the mountain top, "all I needed to know was that you wouldn't use that instant win ring of yours."

"I can't believe this," Iota looked about ready to slap the kid as he was sitting down but was abruptly stopped by the speed of Interval, the tall speedster sliding into a stop just in front of him. "Can you believe that?" He tossed out his slapping hand to the side."

"Well aren't you the one who wondered why I lead this team?" Nightwing shovelled out his response through clenched teeth.

"We don't have time for this," Interval pulled a look over his shoulder to Iota before refocusing upon Nightwing, the bat-boy nimbly sliding his feet into the corresponding slots at the front of the sled, the rest of his body snugly rubbing into the box like seat, "Nightwing, are you sure that you can beat him?"

"Oh, I'm sure," Nightwing hastily replied with earnest, briefly looking up to his teammates as he confided his plan, "all I have to do is switch on the strategic mode in my cowl and it will instantly draw up a flight plan. The suit really takes care of the rest, all I really have to do is go along for the ride…" he spoke nonchalantly as he squirmed a little more till he found his comfort zone. A sheet of blue fell across the ocular vision plate in his cowl, causing the orange of the grass to fall into the depths of an unflattering purple as everything else pretty much did when he happened to look across it. He aimed his head down the track. He was fortunate enough to select the same one he had taken when he combatted Iota in a race down, it was now one he was quite familiar with. The blue hue that covered his surroundings began to cave in towards the grey track of concrete and fibreglass, filling in its deep curvature, moulding a blue line that fell smooth in nicely to the dozen or so curves and turns on the way down. "And for whatever reason that imp begins to gain some ground on me," Nightwing once more briefly glanced back up to his teammates, "I can easily slip my boots back and give me some speed from my boot boosters."

"We only have three chances," Interval clasped his arms to his chest, "let's see if we can keep it from going that far."

The three of them were not the only ones on the mountain top of course, along with Mxyzptlk there was all the kids whom supported him blindly, cheering him on with total indifference to the monsters he put on against them in the name of fun; it was all too much for the heroes, unable to grasp how the cheers would not fall their way, these people they wanted to save being in strongly in the camp against them. More were on the move to join, clamouring onto the sluggish chairlift up to join the already overflowing multitude.

"Are we ready to ride?" Mxyzptlk floated in with his own smaller sized sled beneath him already, his hands firmly on the throttle stick as he nodded towards the boys with that boasting smile. He of course was lined up with the track line several steps away that was once manned by Iota in his slide down. He knew full well every facet of his own park, it mattered not which track he selected.

"Let's do this!" Nightwing hobbled up his sled to the teetering line in, shouting all the way as the whizzing of plastic hit the fibreglass of the track with the magical purring sound that quickly overcame the cheers of spectators. The first stretch was relatively straight but as his speed progressed under the heavy speed of gravity, he yawned as he entered the first curve, fully accepting the suits control over his body, ramming up tightly to the sides of the concrete curvature with ease.

"No, no," Mxyzptlk spoke to himself as his own turn was steadily coming up ahead, "this will not do at all," he reached up his small right hand and threw it across like he was painting a rainbow, the flashing of star like sparks being present in the wake.

"Whoa," Nightwing's eyes began to widen at the blue line his visor formed into the track was beginning to change its form in shape, developing in such a bizarre way to fit the all new kinds of wacky designs that mysteriously popped up ahead of him. The turns and curves that he remember now looked like they split into two separate tracks, weaving into each other with a sharpness that his cybernetic technology would even buckle on, forcing the muscles of his body to rub and tear every which way to get the effect the user though desirable. Here he was flying down the track line at what felt like a hundred miles per hour with only one feasible chance of slowing down before an inevitable wipe out: the throttle stick. He clasped his hands around its shape as hard as he could, stomping it down with all his might but it was only upon doing so that he realized a great misfortune, that being that the stick only allowed for two settings: grandmotherly slow and something he was quick to call 'death awaits'. Already beginning to bump and grind on the concrete ledges, he felt the bones in his bodies begin to crack, never a good sign to begin with, but it was one final turn, an impossible turn, that really cemented within him a fear that he might not come out of this ride in one piece. It simply appeared to end, not a dead end in its firmest of meanings but rather one that so sharply just out to a side that it would require the boy to veer off across the face of the mountain and fight against its downward slope. He saw this as inevitable collapse, the blue line of his strategic guider have successfully refitted to it, "oh crud."

"You seeing this," Iota stomped his right foot forward to the edge of the mountainside, less than an inch short of tumbling down the side.

Interval stepped over, clasping his arms over his chest with the oncoming of a dissatisfied sigh, "looks like Mxyzptlk isn't going to being playing fair either." Both heroes began to cringe upon witnessing the inevitable crash. The smashing of their teammate and his plastic board against a wall of cement affirmed a great deal of many pains throughout their own bodies, thrilled to the bone that it was no they whom fell victim to an unexpected to change in the route down. As they pulled away from the mountainside all they could hear was the incessant moaning of their teammate Nightwing, ragging on all the pain he was experience, over every fibre of his being torn to shreds…and towards the end of his tirade, he even invoked the name of several Greek gods much to some surprise.

"Don't worry," Iota grinned, "I'm a sure fire win."

* * *

Iota was slapped right back into the box like tank, head firmly placed within the circular turret and cannon armed and ready flowing out from the centre of his chest. It was immediately upon sitting down that he decided to immerse the black sensor strips that road the sides of the green miniature tank with his emerald Lantern energy, the protective shielding being more than a matching for the tennis ball like yellow projectiles that that cannons shot. Even with the entirety of the fence straddling cannons aimed upon him, and be rest assured that they would be, he showed no fear; the way he was now, he was invincible. He rotated the purple ball like wheels to get the back of his tank to line up at the centre of one of the walls of the square arena, the churning of heavy plastic against an equal material on the floor being enough to sicken him slightly with its screech but the power of confidence swiftly took him over as he stared out from the opening slot around the turret to the similar looking tank across from him, the impish man Mxyzptlk sitting within. "I've got him," he coldly commented to himself. It was no sooner than when he finished of his final word that he gave way into a yelp, a loud cry of fear that filled the entirety of the arena. He threw his head down into his lap just in time as the powerful projectile fired off by his current foe just about destroyed the turret piece of his tank, literally melting down the piece beyond recognition and certainly making its operation an impossibility. Iota waved his hands up through what remained of the turrets lower edges, ripping away at the seams to let the now quite light plastic piece slip off. He was out rightly horrified by the appearance of the tubular cannon on his tank, fully acknowledging now the one weakness in his shield; the hole of the cannon itself. The tube was shattered, ripped apart several times from its circular shape and bent backwards towards the turret itself, the power of the obviously rigged projectile having forced a back log against his ammunition inside thus causing such shrapnel filling in the explosion.

Mxyzptlk took no time in preparing his parade run, quickly roaming the perimeter of the arena, coming in close enough for his fans to fawn over him as his head raised up through the latch at the top of his tank's turret, small hands reaching out to wave to their delight, each wrung of his wrist proving to make the sounds of claps and cheers that much more pervasive in affecting the confidence of the three young superheroes. "Well I hope what you have waiting to challenge me is more exciting than this," he came to a stop at the edge of the fence where the tall speedster was leaning over, disgruntled over the mobs of people that knock against his sides, "stomps such as these were only fun the first time round…." he winked.

"Alright," Interval pushed his hands off from the top pipe that road around the fence, "let's do a classic carnival game…though I think it was one that your original plans had missed out on," he slyly spoke as he levelled his eyes into the imp, "there might be some assembly required."

* * *

"It's a relatively simple game by design," Interval spoke as he held two glass bottles, one to each hand, upside down so as to eject the liquid from its containment. They were Zesti brand Classic bottles, that being most recognized by their stylish baby blue logo that circled around the centre of the glass, its wavy design being roundly large along the hand holding base before smoothing upwards to the cap top. Standing at just under a foot in length, these particular bottles were not the regular run of the mill found in the super markets. He shook them out, what remained of its dark carbonated liquid dripping off, holding out to the end as a fall would mean death upon the hard ground of dirt. The bottles flipped around upright in his hands, the tops now coming to point up to the sky. He let out a sigh of satisfaction, "the object of the game is to knock down both the bottles," he looked over to Iota standing a short distance away. The Lantern had come to be playing with one of the white softballs used in the game to knock down the steely looking milk bottles, "with one of those balls," he nodded towards Iota just as the young Lantern let the ball fly up from his palm only to land back down in it with a slap.

The group of heroes, Mxyzptlk, and the many, many, spectators had returned to the region of games booths and delicacies, all of which were abandoned by their proprietors on account of all of them most sincerely being a double of Mxyzptlk. In the loose circle formed by the multitude of kids were the still standing Nightwing and rest of his teammates, slightly spaced out from each other but all facing the centre where the small impish man they were up against stood, twiddling his hands behind his back with an unconventional grin on his face at the sight of the two bottles in the speedster's hand, "and how do you say we should be expected to knock them down? From her hands you say?" he chided.

"No, um," Interval stumbled along, "we're going to need a ramp, a declining slope about," he shook his head, "uh, three feet across with a wall along the sides to contain the ball. The bottles will be lined up at the very bottom, the objective being to roll the ball down the slope and knock them down…and you've only got three tries."

"And can I assume that you are going first?"

"Sure," Interval nodded.

"Excellent," Mxyzptlk leaped into the air, the fullness of his levitating abilities becoming evident as he suspended himself in the open space. He waved around his hands towards Interval, forcing the boy to move away as quick as he could, joining Iota at his side as the ground where he formerly stood began to crack and crumble, the magic that was within Mxyzptlk beginning to do what it did best. The dirt gave way first, the hard rock second, breaking down and inward of a yellow lined crevice; a most unusual sight for all watching this unfold. In a decade of seconds, the yellow hard plastic ramp made its full appearance above ground. It was nearly ten metres long and at its highest back point, chest level…it was smooth all the way down to a rather rectangular flat piece about a foot in length, the place where the bottles were presumed to be placed.

Interval took in a heavy breath as he followed his eyes along the ramp, the decline being particularly longer than he had envisioned it to be and the surface being incredibly shined, most likely on the verge of being frictionless; this was indeed going to be an incredible challenge. He looked over to Mxyzptlk, holding up the two bottles to him, "you can set them up wherever you please."

"Oh," Mxyzptlk glistened with pride as he swooped in and nabbed the bottles with his small hands. The fifth dimensional imp dove towards the end of the track, placing the bottom of the bottles flat on the board he had generated at there.

"Wow, this is so exciting…" Nightwing bellowed out in the highest form of sarcasm that he could muster, the trait of boredom being considerably uniform in the surrounding spectators.

With the two bottles perfectly lined up at the end of an impossibly long ramp, Iota tossed the ball over to Interval as he stepped around to the front, crashing his chest against the curvy top; from this view, the ramp looked very much like a slide albeit one with a slope not particular well suited to the acquiring speed through the force of gravity. "I thought I'd do you a favour by lining them up on a flat plate," Mxyzptlk fluttered in above Interval with his hands sprawled out once more like a birds, forcing the speedster to look up to him, "lets savour this primitive challenge and make the most of it."

Interval grunted as he refocused upon the track line, pulling up the ball to the edge and then proceeding to scan the span of the ramp down, plotting the desirable projector of his drop. He slid the ball across the curvature of the ramp's top, quickly finding the surface to be thick in a glossy sheen of gel; a little bit of trickery on the part of the trickster like imp. "You can do it," Nightwing shook up his fists, pulling Interval's sights away from the track once more. The bat-boy's wide eyed stare and smile did little to ease the speedster's conscience on selecting this particular game, one so obscure that a carnival god like Mxyzptlk had either ignored it had not heard of it; he was certainly hoping that it was the latter. With one last final deep breath expulsed, Interval let the white softball go from his grasp. Almost immediately it began to spatter around the beginning of the ramp, unable to gain a firm grasp on what kind of spinning cycle it was to be taking on the way down. It was soon knocking up against the wall on his left side, inching its way along it with a few curing bounces before returning to the centre of the ramp but only for a brief moment, soon colliding with the wall on the right side, a serious provision of grace considering the banking of the hit caused a roll towards the desired targets, "yes," Nightwing shovelled his fist up across his body in triumph.

"Lucky shot," Mxyzptlk applauded with distaste, "alright, set your bottles where you like them," he clasped his arms over his chest, a sign of his disapproval, and fled away from the scene.

Interval quickly ran up to the side of the ramp, getting his hands around the bottles where they landed after his victorious ball drop. He slipped them up onto their flat bottoms, holding them in a semi-close proximity to where Mxyzptlk had placed them. He looked up to Mxyzptlk, the imp having lined up at the top of the ramp with ball in hand, "alright, it's good to go."

"You know Mxyzptlk," Nightwing stumbled through the name as he stepped up to the side of the ramp, hand up to his chin as though he was contemplating something quite analytical, "I was just thinking, you consider us to be quite primitive do you not?"

"Oh most certainly," the imp smiled down upon the teen hero.

"This game then," Nightwing continued on with the drop of his hand, falling back in line loosely at his side, "it was created by primitive minds yes?" the imp nodded, "well then you should win easily without having to consult any of your grand abilities. You are after all a god in comparison to a simple human such as myself…there is no way I could ever defeat you at this even if I put all my mind, soul, and body into it."

"Quite true, quite true," Mxyzptlk returned with a giddy nod.

"But here's the thing," Nightwing slammed down a palm to his thigh, "I haven't seen that yet. So far you've won through trickery, I'd venture to say you're very much afraid you'll lose if you play by such primitive rules," he became pompous as he had been doing so throughout the day, show boating as was necessary to build up the act.

"Ah very well then, I shall show you what I can do without the use of my powers," Mxyzptlk replied shortly as he turned to face the ramp, holding back the ball into one hand with the other overtop steadying it, as though he were preparing to roll it down like a bowling ball. He peered one eye down and licked his lips with vigour, then, now fully satisfied with his positioning, finally unleashed the ball with such ferocious power that it levelled straight down the centre of the ramp on line with the centre of the bottles. "What?" he gasped. Though he felt it to be the most perfect of drops the final tally produced some puzzling results; only one of the bottles had crashed off to the side, spinning around at it did after such a collision, though the fact remained that the other bottle still holding its standing position. "Line them up again!" the little man yelled with anger brimming out the sides of his ears. Interval swiftly returned to the bottles, lifting up the fallen one to join at the sides of its comrade once more. Sweat seamed to boil over top of the imp's brow as he once again peered down the way with one eye, licking his lips with even more vigorously than before. Again, when all had met his satisfactory tastes, the ball slipped out from his hands, streaming down the smudging oils of the ramp like a bullet on a straight lined collision course with the bottles at the end. "What?" Mxyzptlk slammed his clenched tight fists to the top of the ramp, furious that similar results to before could happen the second time round. "This is ridiculous," he shook his head, "get those bottles up now! I have one more try!"

"You know Mxyzptlk," Interval slowly worked his way back to the bottles, pandering to the poor failing imp with sarcastic rhetoric, "I'm going to bring them forward a bit," he dragged up the bottom of the bottles up the smoothly declining slope a soft metre distance up, "I'd hate for this to be too much of a primitive challenge," he let his hands free of the glass bottle as he stepped back, raising his chin in pride as he did so.

Mxyzptlk leapt into a grunting huff and puff, bypassing the snivelling peering eye and the sickening licking of his lips, just giving in entirely to the intake and outtake of the juicy oxygen, the more the merrier given that his face was turning a deep, deep, hellish red. Ball in hand, he wounded it up like a baseball pitcher, letting it go with a swing of power that the onlookers half expected to smash into the ground with enough internal energy to traverse on beyond the hard layer of plastic and through the stone of the ground. But with all this build up, the detriment of failure loomed over him once more as only one of the two line bottles collapsed to the ground, slipping down the declining plane to the flat plateau at the end. "No! NO! NOOO!"

"Deal's a Deal Mixie," Nightwing smirked, holding on however to a stern tone.

"Return this place to normal," Interval turned to the orange and purple clad imp, "leave!"

"How is this possible?" Mxyzptlk screamed, continuously slamming his fists against the ramp top like levers, his legs likewise rising out to his sides with every passing hit. His bottom lip began to tremble as he managed to calm himself down, pulling away from the yellow ramp, "how?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Interval stepped along the sides of the ramp, "now leave," he pressed up his hand to the little man, pushing forth his index finger into the imp's chest, developing that look of continued animosity.

With absolutely no warning, everything around the three heroes was gone. No brilliant flash of light, no swirling of colours when the perceptions of the mind hit the blender of reality, just a whole lot of nothing that left them feeling dazed, confused and searching out there surrounding for an inkling of what remained of Mxyzptlk's park. The only real conclusion that the three made simultaneously with one another was that the hard bedrock that made up the park's floor had returned to its natural state: a field of grass that tickled the shins.

"Is that it?" Nightwing was the first to speak up though not entirely slowing down in his upper body swivelling, hands spaced out from his sides in preparation to fight anything, the laws of the land already having been ignored wholly by Mxyzptlk before, "did we win?" he shot a look over to Interval.

Interval relinquished his shoulders, the emotional weight that he carried throughout the small game being enough to convince him to slow down for the rest of the day, "yeah," he nodded to Nightwing, "I think that's it."

"Awesome," Nightwing raise his fists into the sky, head soon following suit, his personal cheer of victory.

"How did you do it?" Iota stepped in, "I mean, what was with the bottles?"

"I placed one of the bottles slightly forward from the other," Interval confided as he turned his chin to the shoulder closest to his Lantern colleague, "the front bottle absorbed all the downward force of the ball. He could have thrown it as hard as he wanted," he smirked as his hands flew up to his sides. There was a bit of pride to him now, that feeling of success having tasted so terribly good, "only one of the bottles would have ever fallen. It's an old carnival game…I believe it was banned in the early twenty first century from most of the major carnival networks because of its overtly rigged playing physics."

"Man, we got to stop dealing with gods," Iota shook his head, "I'm getting a headache from it all."

"You know," Nightwing chimed in, "we never got around to trying that roller coaster."

Interval moaned, "everything about that park was an injury waiting to happen. The construction properties and parameters of physics were archaic and amateur," he tossed out his arms towards the bat-boy with a hefty dose of disbelief, "no one should have been allowed to ride it."

"So would have been worth the experience then," Nightwing shook up his insinuating index finger with a grin, "All those risks we'd be taking when fighting those dreaded universal laws."

"I don't think you understood what I said when we first arrived," Interval moaned once more, "how could any of those rides have been slightly appealing to us?"

"Hey," Iota brought the attention on to him. He pulled up his ring hand, the glow around it increasing in strength, "it's a good thing I kept a log of the miniature version I made…you know I can build it, if you know…" he slurred off with some unconventional shrugs of his shoulders, "if you all want?" his eyes bolted open, an open plea to play along.

"Iota, my friend," Nightwing threw up a rousing fist across his body, "lay out the track!"

Interval palmed his face, shaking the entirety of his face in a negative fashion, "oh…."


	34. Iota 9

Iota #9  
Volume 1. Story 6.  
The Martians Among Us (Part 2)

* * *

The natural satellite that rotated around the earth, aptly named the moon, had largely gone untouched throughout its long and storied existence by the humankind whose planet it gently orbited. It was only in the past hundred years, less than a sliver sized fraction on the cosmic scale of life, that they touched upon its surface and declared it their own. Within time they discovered ways in which to harness its potential for limitless power, the most notable of which being a miles long belt of solar panels that skirted across the grey moonstone surface, absorbing the rays of sun as they passed and in the process converted them down to transferable units of energy to be instantly shipped off to Earth through an intricate series of satellite installations that spread across the outer atmosphere. It was a clean and productive source of energy, generating an excess storage that would keep the world running a number of years in the even that its operation ceased to function under any circumstances. In the past day, these faculties were put to the test. For those living within Hub City, the lack of power came to no surprise when a villain of impeccable power absorbed all energies across the light spectrum and nearly destroyed the city with its discharge [Iota #7]; however, this was not the only story told. In the early hours of the morning, the local news teams reported that the solar battery connected satellites were undergoing efficiency tests as was a common norm. This reported fact was well known to the Martian Manhunter, the overall headmaster of the Justice League, but there were other details locale to him that made such a seemingly innocent story nothing more than a cover for a grave plot. Firstly, the companies whom brought forth this article of news were not in the middle of a common test, indeed, the satellites were in the best of shape but were simply not receiving the signals from the moon's surface. Secondly, the most crucial detail of the two important details, the engineering crew at the lunar base responsible for the maintenance of the panels had not responded to any hails, they had simply vanished. Two Lantern's had been dispatched to investigate, Kyle Rayner and Iota.

"What have you got?" Iota, the youth fused to a Lantern's ring against the logical reasoning's that the corps regularly applied to the selections of its members, questioned the elder Lantern Kyle with whom he shared company, those others with them being the deathly pale White Martians sound asleep in full body chambers that lines the walls. They were practically giants, a whole head taller than that of the tall standing Kyle, with elongated limbs and craniums to match. Their heads were practically uniform in shape, very few if any details providing a uniqueness that would sprout a notion of individuality. At the sides, stretching up from where the ears would be expected, were hardened flaps that narrowed upwards into points. They were two among a trifecta of peaks, the third one being at the back of the skulls; the most notable and largest of them all. Their jaws followed a similar look, straight diagonally edges down the sides though leaning into a rounded chin. Any semblance of a nose was absent, blotted out it would appear by the thick black that encircled through the centre of their shut eyes and looped and bended up along their foreheads in an illustrious design that whipped around in several curls to sharpen into points, two trees with many branches. The breadth of their chests were wide, brimming with viewable lines of musculature that was well beyond human portion, being thinner towards the shoulder sockets and diving inward of the chest at almost straight angles.

The two Lanterns were wedged in between a deep canyon whose solid sides narrowed downwards several metres on a slight curvature of wavy patterned protrusions before falling into flat straight walls that were evidently chiselled in such away by geological machines; absolute smooth to the touch with nought a bubble or a sinking imprint. The tunnel was wide enough to hold three persons walking along it shoulder to shoulder and tall enough to give the tallest of the Martian's full body extensions and then some. The tunnel itself appeared to lead towards a large, though surprising less than deep, impact crater that lay north of the thick line across the centre of the moon created by the solar panels, its origins understandably being the smash of a sizable space rock, a meteorite, sometime in the past. It was not of course the fact that such a cavern existed that left the two heroes with dumbfounded looks but rather the White Martians that surrounded them, stashed within upright laid coffin like pods, silently sleeping. The Martians' chambers had sides of the deepest shades of grey, fall appropriately in line with the overall feel of the smoothed moonstones that made up the wall from which it moulded out from as though they were intimately apart of it. The fronts were covered in a sheen of plastic looking glass, a bubble of sorts that was lightly tinted to a baby blue on account of the thin strip of lights that layered the perimeter of the interior just inside of the full body lid.

The tunnel side leading away from the impact crater was delicately covered in a layer of dark moon dust and assorted stones that tumbled in following the recent collapse and division of cliff sides that inevitably formed the haphazard canyon. It was simply a molten mass of dark boulders that filtered into one another, pilling up in a long and strikingly tall rigid slope that sprawled across the grated metal floor of the tunnel and up to the tunnel ceiling, the further back this way resulting in the narrower breadth from cliff side to cliff side to the point of solidity, the beginning and end of the canyon depending on perspective. Needless to say, if either of the two Lanterns desired to see the full stretch of the Martian tunnel then it would require careful digging to ensure the safety of the Martian chambers if they had not already been crushed to death by the rubble.

It was the first most viewable pod that Iota had landed upon, both feet coming to land solidly upon the solid sheen of stone that layered the top. Through the powers that his ring provided, the youth generated a costume that was more or less unique by comparison to the officiated Green Lantern's that heralded from earth though maintained in mind a unified appearance that reflect the corps he was said to be a part of. Engrossing his nose, eyes and half of his forehead was a smooth rectangular panel of green that stretched around to the sides of his head just short of hitting his ears. Each corner of the mask broke outwards with geometric points, the top set comfortably fitting up to his temples while the bottom set slid inwards of his cheeks. The eye slots, much like the overall shape of the mask, were rectangular in their orientation and held within their thickness a screen of milky green that kept his natural eyes from being an outside visual. Atop of his otherwise full black body suit was a myriad of details highlighted in the vibrant green associated to any Green Lantern. His shoulders were embedded with bands that hit along the tops and continued downward just beyond the lowest edge of his shoulder blade. At the centre of his chest was a centimetre thick hexagonal shape with a stylized set of white triangles, points faced inward of one another and flattened somewhat to create the all-important Lantern emblem, though this one sharing much more so in common with that of a common hourglass. His boots and gloves were rather blocky, holding to strong cubic lines with the latter being notable for allowing the individual fingers to roam free of such constraints.

Kyle had already found his way to the floor, immediately taking in to analyzing his surroundings. His current uniform fell very much in line with the typical norm associated with the members of the corps: heavy and tight fitting wrists bands that ran up his forearm, hard edged boots that stopped short of his knees, and a wide reaching shoulder piece that narrowed down his chest to centre at a point on his chest. A circle of white was at the centre of his chest, holding within it the true Green Lantern's logo; two straight top edged lines that blended inward of each other on the broadsides, holding in between them a hollowed out circle. His mask was a simple band of green that made his eyes appear as a milky green suspended within loosely fitting oval slots. At the moment he was holding a wide eyed glare down the tunnel side that led to what he understood as being beneath the crater, this way being conceivably the easiest to traverse through given the debris blocking the other side. Iota's question instantly brought his focus upon the front of the pod that the boy lowly hanged upon with collapsed knees and hand reaching over to clutch the ledge. "We've got trouble," he briefly glanced upwards to Iota before drawing back his right arm, pulling the fingers back into to the palm to form a fist. He drew forth a blunted object in the illustrious Lantern energy, a large flat sided brick like hammer top with a lingering tubular stream of energy that stretched back to his ring. The full unleashing smashed the coffin casing down into thick shards of glass, zipping past the drawing line of the sky blue lights and colliding with the centre of the White Martian's face. The Martian's eyes were just beginning to light up in a devilish red, the black around it socket's bustling up into wrinkled ridges across the forehead; it was almost a shame that its first sight upon waking from a long sleep be a magical green hammer. The inevitable crunch to the face was enough to make its face wince in pain with razor sharp teeth gnashing into each other with a furious scowl. Up went its crescent shaped talon hands, angling out from its waist at the elbow. It was a desperate attempt to fight back against the attacking Lantern but the strength that came from being fully awake was long in waiting to be achieved. With a soft thud back towards the clean ivory padding of the pod, its knees buckled for less than a three seconds before collapsing over itself, crashing to the floor without so much as a word. "They're all telepathically connected. If one wakes up then the others will soon follow," he quickly cautioned his young colleague who was understandably stifled up into a breathless gasp on account of the elder Lantern's quick reflexing punch.

Kyle proceeded to shake out his fist, the impressively strong hammer construct dissipating further into nothingness with each successive wrung of his wrist, "if you see anyone of them-" his words of instruction were stifled away when a thick green crystalline fist crossed over his shoulder, zipping passed the side of his face on a collision course for the chamber in behind him. The subsequent smashing of the chamber's exterior was greater in sound than his attack, the span of the inspired fist being considerably more bulky by comparison to his hammer. It not only created a puncture hole where the fist connected but also sent rippling streams of cracks that shovelled all the way to the bottom of the of the lid, deep to the point of shattering its whole form. He swiftly turned around just in time to catch the slumping of the Martian entity to the bottom of its pod, the wobbliness of its legs mirroring the one whom he punched out. "What was that?" he snarled as he returned to Iota.

"He blinked!" Iota shouted in response to Kyle's heavy tone.

"Are you sure?" Kyle continued to prod following a heavy breath that saw the scorn of his original demeanour slipped away.

"I…" Iota stumbled in finding his strength, his head beginning to shake around awkwardly with disgruntled wrinkles filling in around his nose, defiantly maintaining his strong defensive position, "I thought I saw him blink!"

"The tanks are pressure sealed," Kyle levelled out to a cooler attitude as he raised up his ring hand once more, aiming it towards the front of the pod with a wide brim scanning ray, tracing down the straight line of one side, focussing upon the touch of the lid on the sides, "you must have set this one off when you landed on top of it." He grunted as he looked up to the rigid waves of the canyon sides, instantly attracted to the spheres of white that fitted along the blanket of black, "this whole tunnel is generating its own atmosphere.

Iota leapt off of his perch, at first flying off at a heightened speed rate before fluttering down into a snail's pace, his arms casually rising out to his sides for balance as the effects of the moon's low holding gravity was given rights to his form. A soft landing achieved, he looked down the cavern hole, intrigued by the flashing of the baby blue hues that bounced to and fro all the way down a seemingly miles long reach that ended in unquenchable darkness. "I've only seen White Martian's in history vids," he casually stepped forward, head leering ever so slightly to a shoulder to get around the tall standing Kyle, "there's so many of them…." he quickly stabilized himself with a closed lip smirk, "what are we supposed to do?"

"The Martian Manhunter's telepathic blocks should keep us safe from them," Kyle looked briefly over his shoulder to the young Lantern before proceeding to make his way down the annals of White Martian filled sleeping chambers.

"Yeah," Iota's shirked his shoulders as he quickly joined in trudging along the path, "I'm not sure how I feel about that guy being in my head."

"He's under a lot of strain right now to keep us from falling under their control, especially considering how far away from him we are currently," he sighed lightly, "keep in mind that the only reason why we're alive right now is because he's conscious and safe back at the JLA satellite." His ring hand suddenly reached up to the side of his head, tapping upon the side of his ear where a circle disk of green, a cap that fit soundly upon the lobe, fitted itself with an outstretching bar from the bottom arched around to his mouth, "We need to get in contact with him. He thought his brethren might be involved…" he took in a heavy breath, "I hope that he's got a plan ready to deal with them."

Iota took one last glance upwards, letting his eyes flow on past the jagged lines of the canyon to roam freely into the brilliance of the stars before his steps inevitably took him in underneath the tunnel ceiling, the solid top being a cascading shade of navy blue that maintained its deep sea darkness despite the engrossing glows of the chambering inner lining all the ways down the strip. Each successive step of his boots rattled the grated metal of the floor boards, his head soon falling down to watch the rise of his toes as they began to fall into a pattern; anything was more interesting than looking at the lifeless bodies of one of Earth's more notorious enemies.

* * *

The Martian Manhunter rarely if ever left the assorted Justice League bases across the world, believing that his strength of heroics lay in the strategic coordination department, sourcing out better equipped heroes and dispatching them accordingly to places of concern. It had never adversely affected him in anyway, this isolation, for he could enjoy the presence of others at will and as needed, this notion holding strong until recent events came crashing down upon him. Someone was invading the minds of fellow league members and maintenance staff, either placing within their minds suggestive thoughts or holding complete control of their faculties, forcing them to commit acts that could only be held as being negative to the human populace. The goal of these acts appeared to be taking command of the Justice League's orbiting satellite, more specifically focussing upon the primary cannon of which was restricted to use in fighting off alien invasions. Knowing full well of the threat level it posed, he was quick to depower all the cannon's battery cells, taking out the strength behind its punch. But then something strange happened: whoever was attempting to arm the cannon through the telepathic control of other's had no interest in the cannon's destructive abilities but rather in the electron configurations of the materials used to contain the firing mechanism. The ferromagnetic materials, such as the mineral magnetite, were being pressured into creating a magnetic pulse; it was the League's tractor beam and was anything but lethal, so what purpose could its control serve? The answer he searched for appeared to be local to the moon for it was only when the two lined up, the satellite to the moon, that the cannon became charged. With the lunar base crew being non-responsive to hails and the acquired solar energies being diverted elsewhere, the Martian Manhunter felt it wise to assume that whatever plans this entity had were taking a massive leap forward.

The room he holed himself up in was the central computer hub, an unofficial title developed by League members in passing who wished to avoid any Orwellian implications that the term 'watchtower' gave. It was rather small in comparative terms to the rest of the station, compacted down to fit less than a hundred standing bodies. Additionally, it was completely circular in its orientation, a shape produced by way of a multitude of straight lined walls about a metre long being well connected to one another at the necessary angles. This arrangement of walls was almost seamless in execution, only becoming noticeable for its relative straightness when viewing the slanting of the desk boards which connected with the walls at about stomach height and dropped down at an angle no more than an inch. The desks' surfaces were unimaginably clean, perfectly solid in a white stone looking board though closer inspection realized an embedded keyboard layout, the buttons understandably phasing through to the top in their varying light fixtures and stand out colours. Engrossing nearly the entirety of the upper walls were the monitor screens. While understandably straight in line with the walls themselves, the fluctuating forms of the aquatic blue colour fixture that they displayed created some havoc in perceiving such distinction – where one screen ended and another began – for the essence of this colour created a near three dimensional effect, proposing a sea like depth in an otherwise solidly flat surface. The ceiling curved inward of the surrounding walls though once again was particularly difficult to notice for the entirety of its formation was made up in tightly bound blended lights, perfectly hued along the complete stretch. The floor was a fashioned metallic surface, collecting the light and balancing its effects upon its pristine face. This place had become his prison, the telepathic link established between him and the Lanterns on the moon being dependent upon him staying conscious and alive, the straining effects slowly depriving him of strength the longer they were out there, forcing him to slump in silvery shined metal chair.

Even when sitting down, he was no doubt a tall entity with gangly limbs to match, though not such to be underestimated for they were of no less than an enviable muscular physique. As was to be expected, his hands were radically different from the human norm, long spindly fingers that inched forward into crescent shaped claws. All save for his hands and head were decked with a vibrant sheen of black which balanced the core strength room's bright lights at every possible angle. The only shine of fashionable intent was restricted to the crossing red straps from his shoulders to the sides of bodies, clamping along the upper most tops near his shoulders a flowing deep blue cape. His face was long and mostly noted for three triangular point extension that began at the top of his forehead and flared off to the back of his head; the central one being much large to the two smaller ones darting out along the sides. The narrowing yet straight lined chin, heavy brow that was thickly of flesh, and of course those rectangular shaped set of full red eyes which appeared to be menacing in their approach rounded out the rest of his facial appearance. He grasped his hand around the ledge of the desk board and clutched down hard as his free hand worked its way to the side of his head, the claws gingerly sinking into his temple as his eyes began to wince. He was the strongest telepath in this region of space but was not nearly as articulate as the Martian whom held this position before him and seemingly not nearly as moral about entering the minds of others for he could not help but be intrigued by the youngest of the Lanterns, Deryck. He encountered the consciousness of the ring, the self-thinking weapon with a child's mind that had held no ill towards him, but then there was something else, another consciousness he could not fathom as being inherently apart of the boy, it was simply not human. He attempted to explain his purpose for being in such a fragile mind, his intent to protect it from the telepathic entity that would do it harm, but this unrecognizable force of pure emotion was reluctant to allow his grasp and was quite strong in pressuring his mind out, but he wouldn't give up despite what pain fell upon him; the youth relied on him to stay alive.

There was also another matter that affected him, one of a personal note that conjured up notions of his identity but these thoughts were quickly stifled by a low pitched hum, the source seemingly arising from the recently arrived dot that flowed up from the desk board he sat behind a short. It was a thumb print sized blue circle that sent out vibration waves about an inch out before dissipating, an attraction his eyes could not ignore when he gingerly let his clenched hand slip of its hold so that a finger could tap upon it lightly; an incoming communication signal. "Kyle?"

"Till'all…" Kyle voice filtered through the com in crystal clarity.

The Martian returned his focus to the screen above, the only one amongst the many that portrayed something more than just the immersive depth of sea blue and the murky dark clouds of data streamed through it. A series of panels with thick lighter blue shaded sides cluttered the front of the screen, the displayed images being camera shots throughout the station, the most intense focus falling upon the maintenance staff that scuttled about their business given that the persons of a heroic persona rarely spent time here save to fulfil their responsibility on monitor duty, as was the case of the lone hero, Anissa Peirce, better regarded by her alter-ego Thunder, whom sat alone in the quiet dining hall. "Have you found the missing crew men?"

"No," Kyle gulped, "but…." his voice slurred off with the escalation of his heavy foot prints against a loose metal surface took over on the audio end, punctuated every so often with an unsteady breath.

"What have you found?" The Martian became energetic as he softly smashed his palms to the desk board, slightly raising up from his chair, head lurching into the screen though mind unquestionably indifferent to the camera shots provided.

"I hate to be the one to tell you this," Kyle paused for a few moments, leaving the Martian quite tense as his rate of breath shot up, his chest tightening with every successive grasp of air, "but you're not alone…" the dry dribble of Kyle's voice cemented a lingering fear of his. He fell back into his chair, leaning his head back as much as the top rail of the chair allowed. Both hands clawed away from the desk and steadily began to inch towards one another in front of his chest, the ends of his arched fingers soon tapping together gently. His eyes burned into a higher intensity of red as he threw himself back into memories. When Mars became a barren waste of a planet, J'onn J'onzz, the first Martian to step on Earth, believed himself to be the lone survivor of his race. Over the course of time though, other Martians were found across the galaxy, all winding up dead through their own individual machinations. The White Martians, unlike those of Green, were warlike and fierce. It was perhaps these unifying traits that had kept them together throughout the displacement of their home world while the majority of Green Martians fell into insanity, but it couldn't last long. The Hyperclan, as the invading White Martians fashioned themselves under, brought about their own ends as well, fighting together and eventually dying together. There was however a sect of white Martians that survived, a group that he was intimately a part in his youth and as such experienced the horrors of experimentations and brainwashing. While everyone else around him died, he survived long enough to be saved by J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter, whom raised him in the philosophical ways as applied by the race of Green Martians. "I hope you have a plan for dealing with them…cause I don't."

"What have they done?" the Martian piqued up momentarily.

"They've hollowed out some sort of tunnel," Kyle hummed a small bit before clarifying his position, "I'd say about hundred feet below the moon's surface." He seemed to pause in his footsteps, the clunks now echoing for a short bit before finality in silence, "they're all within some kind of sleeping chambers…." the steps returned with a glorious smash, a new drive forward, "how did they manage to accomplish this?" he snapped off, "it would have taken weeks to tunnel this out. I can understand how the other league members would have missed them with their telepathy, but surely you or J'onzz would have noticed, you two have spent more time in that watchtower room than anyone else…was there another Martian on the team while I was gone that might have noticed this?"

"Yes," Till'all took in a deep breath, "there was one whom sat in as the Manhunter prior to me assuming the role over J'onzz."

"Find this person then," Kyle bellowed, "and ask them why they didn't make any mention of the White Martians drilling on the moon."

"She's…" the Martian stifled himself, dropping down an octave to a silent drawl, "no longer with us."

"We're at the end of the tunnel…" a tough sigh broke through the com, a gurgling mass of static. The footsteps came to a sudden stop, "but you're not going to believe this."

* * *

The line of White Martian containing chambers came to an abrupt straight edged end, the tunnel likewise ending on the firm line, but the metal of the walkway continued beyond the opening it led into; an underground room of complete darkness. The spread of the emerald hued shields over the every facet of the two Lantern's bodies appeared to pique up in strength as they left the tunnel of sleeping giants. "It's some kind of hole," Kyle lunged into describing what he saw, hopping that his words would be carried out to the Martian Manhunter on the other end of the communication line. He stepped out of the tunnel no more than three times before meeting the curvature of this massive hole in the room's floor, "I can't be for certain," he looked up threw the swaths of black, gauging in his mind's eye the approximation of the ceiling to be about four times the size of the tunnel's, "but I think the parameters of the hole match up with the impact crater above."

Iota stepped up beside Kyle, dropping down to his knees almost immediately with hands ready to clutch around the edge so that his head could peer over. It was impossibly dark, the emerald sheen around him being only strong enough to weigh inwards of this hole about four feet and even then the tinting it faced on the way down made clear visibility very short. Of what he understood, he was staring down into the abyss of a very large hole, the curvature that he huddled around being no less than twenty metres around the bend, forcing a strange perspective that where he sat was nearly straight, it was only by the feel of his hand along the inside that the felt the variable changes leading into the curve. He pulled the fingers of his ring hand back to the palm, aiming his made fist down into the dark hole with a bright shot of green light, "this must go on for miles," he pulled himself away briefly from the wavering string of emerald energy to look up to Kyle.

"Someone should have noticed this," Kyle stamped his foot into the ground as he leaned his head over the ledge, trailing his eye down the whimpering stream that Iota created, it already slimming breadth at the start becoming even more so as it went further into the abyss, "how much do you want to bet that goes to the centre of the moon?" he casually glanced down to Iota. "Alright then," he swiftly pulled back, turning around to face the outer mouth of the tunnel he had just exited from, passing his eyes down the row of sleeping chambers in their decorative blue hues, "we've got to figure out what their plan is."

"Kyle, we're two minutes shy of lining up the orbits of the satellite and moon," the Martian's voice entered the elder Lantern's ear piece in a reserved monotone, a calm touch to a desperate situation, "we have to consider the every possible plan they could consult and work accordingly to stop them all in a quick succession of acts."

"You're expecting to fail on your end?" Kyle was quick scoff.

"This entity, Martians…has managed to slip its essence into the satellite before, I have little doubt that it will achieve that same success once more," the Martian rebuffed, "now that we are aware of their existence on the moon, it is likely that they have been forced to push their overall plan forward. I suspect that more will happen here than just mental control of the few personnel on the station."

"Why don't you put telepathic blocks in each of them?"

"No," the Martian's voice became coarse, "I'm afraid this distance between our positions is greatly strained as it is, keeping you and your young ward's mental blocks strong has taken much if not all of my telepathic abilities to maintain."

"Then we'll come back right now," Kyle bolstered himself with a heavy breath.

"The information you have provided has been greatly appreciated," The Martian sighed, "no, I should be safe here. The central computer hub is densely protected on all its sides and I've secretly fused all vocal commands to it, I will have access to a variety of sensors….With a multitude of ways in which to access the main computer core, it should not take these Martians long to acquire control through the minds of our engineers." A pause of silence held up briefly, "I will be the only one immune to their telepathic control. I will need to stop them. But in the event of my failure, I will need you to prevent the tractor beam from reaching its goal."

"OK, no, I don't like that," Kyle intensified himself, "I'll come back now."

"No," the Martian asserted himself, breaking through the rocky gruff of his drawling voice, "I'm sorry Kyle, but this is something of a personal matter. I feel it is likely that a being of my own kind will be in the station and I would like to talk to them."

"And if that's the case, they'll come after you," Kyle swiftly became critical, "they'll need to eliminate you to succeed."

"Though we may be a violent species, it is an abhorrent notion to attack another. I will be safe here," the Martian hastily responded though keeping a dry flavouring to his tone, "I can assure you, whatever their plan be, I will do all in my power to prevent."

"I've fought these guys before Till'all…they can't be reasoned with."

The Martian felt his body become hollow, on the verge of collapse, "There is no time to argue…We must consult what options there are and we must do so quickly."

"Alright," Kyle crushed the top of his nose with the knuckles of his index finger and thumb, pressuring the emerald shields into a smooth collision so that he could get into his skin, "they have control of the tractor beam, so then what?" he chucked down the hand and began to shake it out, adding a sense of physicality to his lines of reasoning, "could they be trying to bring the moon closer to the Earth, create some sort of apocalyptic collision? Or maybe they want to repel it, flood the entire planet?"

"The tractor beam is indeed powerful," the Martian responded in haste, "but not powerful enough to move a small planetoid like the moon…no, there must be something at the bottom of the well you've found. Can you give me a quick reading?"

"I think I've hit the bottom," Iota looked over his shoulder, calling over the elder Lantern to take a look at his discovery, "I'm just scratching the surface of something hard," he peered his head over the edge once more, the green stream of energy that trailed down this hole being anything but viewable, it was simply just a feeling.

"What has he found?" the Martian became more ecstatic, hopping onward with words of single syllables.

Kyle immediately bundled the fingers of his ring hand into a fist, propping it over the edge so that the angle of the ring's circular top would collide with Iota's beam upon being fired. Out came the rounding tubular beam of Lantern particles, snapping into Iota's beam with only a small explosion of light, the adjoining energies coming to seamlessly blend into one another. The passing of information was swift, Kyle rose his chin as the transmission from the energy line hammered into his head like lightning, "its magnetite," he pulled himself down from the cloud of knowledge, "and I don't think that's a mineral local to moon geology."

"Oh, this would make sense…" The Martian's voice began to grovel.

"What does?"

"The tractor beam is partly composed of malleable magnetite. The mineral could absorb it, keeping the beam grasp constant," the Martian resumed his informative tone of voice, "Even with all the stations power it still wouldn't be powerful enough to move the moon off its orbit…but it could potentially move it further along or even hold it in place."

"What purpose could that possibly serve?" Kyle shirked his shoulders, his voice becoming increasingly antagonized by the passing of valuable time with little to no answers provided. The stream of energy he emitted to intertwine with Iota's suddenly broke off, snapping his wrist out into normalcy.

"I'm not sure at this time," the Martian drew himself out as becoming cold in his deducting, "but I suppose if I desired to decimate all life on a planet such as Earth, I would remove the source that gave it life…."

"The sun," Kyle shook his head.

"The planet and its life would not survive a permanent solar eclipse," the Martian affirmed.

"What should we do then?" the questioned went out but rather than receive the instructive words as Kyle desired, he got an earful of silence, "Till'all?" he cried out the Martian's name, hoping that through the permeation of silence his fellow league member would be heard. "Agh," he ferociously chucked out his hand, the little green crystalline ear piece that fitted on the side of his head quickly slipping down to its most basic structure of lines before becoming nothing within a matter of seconds. "I don't care what he says; I'm going back to the station. Deryck, I'm going to need you to stay here."

"What?" Iota flipped his chin over to his shoulder with a shocked expression, turning inward of it as he rose back up to the solidity of his feet, letting the stream continue to plaster itself over the mineral at the bottom of the hole, "what am I supposed to do here exactly?"

"The magnetite at the bottom of the hole," Kyle tossed out his hand, aimed towards the target of their discussion, "the Martian said that it will absorb the tractor beam from the satellite. If I fail to get back in time before it fire, I'm going to need you to chisel out as much as you can and take it out into space. Use it to block the beam from hitting the moon."

"Are you kidding me?" Iota retorted with a rhetorical question, "I can't do that! I don't even know what that is except that it's really hard," he tossed both hands towards the hole, holding the palms aimed across one another slightly ahead of his stomach as though he were lifting a box, "there's no way I could get enough of it to stop that cannon thing from wiping me out."

"Deryck," Kyle planted his hands on his waist, looking to the boy with bolstered shoulder, really forcing his heroic appearance, "we don't have a whole lot of time left. You're just going to have to believe me that this will work. I believe you can do it," he nodded, "but you are going to need a lot of willpower behind yourself," he nonchalantly shook his head out from the affirmative nod, his last statement venturing into a lighter territory that contrasted the serious tone he had fallen into only a moment ago.

"But Kyle," Deryck tightened up, unable to find the words.

"If the Martian is in any way knocked out," Kyle returned to his previous demeanour, "then the White Martians will become aware of your presence."

"I'm going to die…out here?" Iota began to gasp, sending forth a pattern of wrinkles up his forehead as his eyes widened in hidden fear.

"Everyone will die if either of us fail," and with that Kyle abruptly turned back towards the tunnel of sleeping chambers, taking into a short lived stride that broke into flight with a simple leap, twisting around the opening to get a solidly straight path that would take him back to the canyon.

* * *

"Kyle," the Martian's hands wavered across the keyboard, the evident growth of blue lights upon it being a sign for concern. They were small half inch sided squares, spanning across the centre of the board with the slimmest of white portions present in between to differentiate them, "I have an unauthorized teleportation in progress. Someone has removed the control chips," he reached his index and adjacent middle finger to the two farthest out squares on his left, sliding them down several inches towards himself on a straight line, "I can't stop it. I've been locked out," he paused for a moment, waiting for an audible answer to disrupt the strain of silence, "Kyle?" he jumped up to his feet, the force of his extended thighs pushing back his chair on its three silver ball prongs towards the centre of the room. The skin around his eye sockets began to twitch and loosen around the bone, his focus rapidly sifting through the numerous panels that cluttered up the monitor screen, each square showcasing a camera shot throughout the entirety of station. It was quite the eerie sight, the overwhelming majority of the people depicted at their stations standing motionlessly, cold blank stares and hollowed out faces devoid of emotion, no sign of personal thought. He quickly tossed up a hand to the monitor screen, quickly slashing it from side to side, tapping upon the panels at the forefront, prying them away to get to that particular one that displayed the communications main frame, hitting upon it with only nought but a single second to spare: the engineer on hand, tightly bound in a blue single piece suit and matching flat square brimmed hat, was on knees and ravishing the myriad of computer transparent rectangular chips from a central console. The Martian immediately recognized the loss of camera communication in three, two, one. In an instant, the thick blue trimmed panels on the screen dissipated into nothingness, falling back into depth of the monitor, their connection severed. His hands once more scrambled along the desk board, slipping through the multitude of blue squares, keeping his eyes transfixed upon the screen as the slippery venomous navy blue clouds, the little pixels of information, invaded with their fog like spread, all information of the world around him lost, "computer?" he gasped, "status on primary cannon. Tractor beam."

A small audible click sounded off, "power armed to fifty-five percent," the computer enhanced monotone voice reverberated throughout the circular room.

A small thud noise, a compression of thick metals and gel flavoured insulation, overhead instinctively caused the Martian to look up, mind completely falling into the vibe of investigation. He fumbled in his footing as he turned around, kicking at his own heels while cautiously approaching the centre of the room with hands drawn out to his sides, fingers twitching in preparation for the worse, "computer. What's the structural integrity of surrounding energy shields?" His mind was already beginning to slip away, the strain of keeping the two Lantern's safe and the intensity of the situation were beginning to intertwine and the mixture did not forebode well for his future.

"Thirty-two percent," the computer voice once again echoed throughout the room.

"Thirty-two percent," the Martian whispered to himself but before he could conclude his thought the rods of lights overhead shattered, suddenly slipping into a deep shade of grey as though someone had taken a graphic pencil and shaded over the bright canvas of the ceiling a fracture lined circle. "Computer. Is there some kind of energy discharge above my position?"

"Negative," the computer responded.

"Well, that's impossible then. It would take the weight of a galactic class star ship ramming at half speed to break the energy barrier," the Martian gulped, "what force is above my position?"

"Object. Mass non-calculable…mass increasing. Energy shielding compromised."

The hard transparent materials that made up the coverage of the lighting fixtures finally gave way to the weight carried on their shoulders, the thick shards of its materials spattering out like feathers, crashing to the floor with little to no effect upon its smooth metallic surface. The subsequent blast of heavy materials and the like caused the Martian to instinctively take a leap back to his desk, arms crowding over his face to block out the smaller pieces that sprayed out like shrapnel from the colliding metal that soon became rubble. The upper bulkhead followed through with a humanoid figure attached, immediately identified as the source of this overhead collapse, forming a massive contusion on the floor with a thunderous boom upon this person's landing.

He came to encounter a tall woman with a remarkable muscular physique. She was a superhero he thoroughly recognized, her costume being a clean cutting mixture of yellow and black in a stylized matter. The lower region of her thick bottom ridged boots were a solid black with an overlapping protective layer of yellow beginning about two thirds the way up her feet, an inch before hitting her ankles, before engulfing the dividing joint of foot and leg completely only to hit an end about a quarter up her shin leaving the blackened spandex fabric to make up the rest of her leggings. Her gloves followed a similar pattern with the fingers being spaced out in black while an overlapping track of yellow clambered overtop of her wrists and circled around her palms and likewise on the backside. A curious belt design straddled her waist, metal looking straps that diagonally aimed down to the centre of her body, sharply cutting to the black of her pants just an inch prior to the absolute centre of her body. Two separate pieces of a similar build and colour clamp together like a buckle at the centre line, forming a six sided shape that stood out from the overall belt line. Down from circling over her shoulders and around her neck to the lowest edge of her stomach was a central bar of yellow; distinction between the black and yellow in this case were made by a slightly golden tinted border that filled in just under a centimetre along each. She crouched within the impact crater she created, the indentation in the mixed metal flooring being sizable in its depth but somehow capable of holding up the woman that must have weighed over several tons a moment ago. Her eyes were a sharp brown, heavily exemplified by her shortly cut frizzled black hair, staring coldly at him: Thunder had arrived.

* * *

"What am I supposed to do?" Iota was nearly at the bottom of the massive well, the string of emerald energy that emanated from his ring beginning to bend and wane on a curvature as it rescinded back to its source. His surroundings were still incredibly dark, the aura of green that engulfed his body being ill suited as a light source, the smooth rounding curves of the seamless wall playing havoc with his perception of depth. He fluttered out his hands from his sides, slowing his rapid pace of descent as the slick face of the mineral came within touching distance of his feet. Solid in his footing, the fist that graced his ring rose into the air, the sparkle of green from the circular top becoming more vibrant as its energies slipped down around his crunched fingers and beyond to the wrist forming a glistening orb of immense fortitude. He confidently stepped around in his position, feeling his feet over the glossy feel of the mineral core as he pivoted outwards, the lantern in his hand proving to be most adequate in balancing lights upon the wall but still doing very little to illuminate the immensity of the hole he was in. The energies of the orb exploded, tossing from its centre a multitude of tentacles that stretched out straight and planted themselves into the wall at an even height all round. Within seconds, tubular lamp heads grew out from the planted positions, growing a full foot long with a slight tilt that brought about the touching of each emerald tinted bulb's beam towards the centre of the floor.

The magnetite mineral that he stood upon was a brownish-black, glossy with a metallic lustre, smoothly fashioned into what he could only conceive as being a sphere, the position where he stood being considerably higher to the sides which sharply curved downward. He looked up, the miles long stretch of eternal darkness above being particular strong in pressuring him into the belief that failure was just around the corner, "I'm in over my head," he shirked his shoulders; in time this place could very well be a prison. He pulled around the back of his hand to the front of his face, looking intently into his Lantern's ring, "do you have any ideas?" he kept his eyes strong fixed into the glowing ring top as he stumbled towards the edge of mineral base, kicking in his feet as needed when it became more steep, "of course not, you need me to think of the big things."

Iota pressured his ring hand against the wall, feeling its firmness with the points of his finger prints. He abruptly decided to skirt around the fullness of it with hand dragging along, a walk that would indeed take somewhere in between five and ten minutes to go full circle. His head occasionally bobbled down to look at the smashed connection of the magnetic sphere hitting upon the moonstone wall, pondering how he could wedge the sphere out and then shovel it up through the hundred foot thickness of the moon's upper crust. "So what?" he tossed himself back in the conversation with his ring, "in about a minute, that primary cannon on the League's satellite is going to blast through the roof, burying me if I'm not dead in an instant…I hope your shield can save you from that," he suddenly paused in his walk, biting down his lip as he fell back from the wall, ring hand returning to front of his face, "you would really just fly off and leave me here to die?" he shook his shoulder, disgruntledly shaking his fists down at his sides, "not funny man." He sighed as he stepped out on a returning stride to the centre "we've got to do something," he immediately conjured up a hand held buzz saw, the crystalline green around his forearm extending outwards beyond his hand where a jagged rimmed circle about a foot in diameter appeared; though he had hoped to hear the trademark burn of the powerful tool, the ring's smooth creation produced nothing more the soft sliding sound of friction, a noise so barely audible that he felt his confidence drop further off the deep end that he was already wadding in.

"Okay, what now? I was kind of looking forward to this," Iota eyes widened as the buzz saw suddenly lost its form, twisting and turning as its constructing particles moulded back into the body encompassing shield. "What?" He cried out with extra emphasis as the ring took control of his body, throttling him to the ground with little to no warning, a sign of struggled and pain filling in his body as his stomach mashed into the hardened surface of the mineral while the top of his fist, ring displayed, hammered into it like wise forcing his arm to strangely contort as was necessary. "What is wrong with you?" he questioned with scorn, grunting as he shook out his shoulders to give some relief to his compressed chest. He quickly pulled his legs beneath his body, bending in his knees to get some leverage of his fist to pull it out from the ground but just as he was making such an attempt, the ring let its grip over him slide. "You're really starting to piss me off!" he cried as he pulled himself up from his back side, another groan provided as he felt the back of his head stir the pain around down his neck, "what?" he brought his hand around to his front, holding it up like a cup for within was a twisting and turning mound that quickly became rigid, forming a complex array of sides and sharp edges that he would recognize as being rock like. He grinned widely, nodding as the ring's simple mind produced the most complex of creations, "synthetic magnetite."

* * *

A wide array of artificial satellites filled in the Earth's orbit, the spacious metals, finely tuned panels, and well-furnished plastics all intermingling with one another to provide those living on the ground a number of services, from the simplicities of worldwide communication and entertainment as has become the common norm to that of the complexities of super heroics and defences, the later section being a joint venture in the holdings of the Justice League's space based headquarters.

The satellite that the Justice League operated out of far outclassed any of the other surrounding artificial satellites, indeed, it was far too different in its overall build and structure to be truly a part of a similar classification; a literal fort in space, it was unique unto itself in perspective of the planet it orbited. The central part to the satellite was a long cumbersome cylinder of plated metals albeit moderately flattened along the obvious sides to produce a more stretched out appearance. The presumable middle to top regions of this central cylinder were noticeably thicker than the lower region, the more recognizable metal plates that surrounded it being narrowed down to a flat cut-off point, the lowest section, from which a multitude of considerably long, though small in diameter, poles, rods and spires shot out from, bunched up together, glinting metallic blues and reds of pulsating lights, and were occasionally held together by overlapping plates. The middle section was the most distinguishable of all the portions for its longer flattened sides were remarkably smooth with the only abstract feature being a rectangular plate at the apparent front that prevented the connection of the smooth rounded plates from connecting and making a full seamless ring. This rectangular plate appeared to have had accumulated a massive amount of side to side gratings, horizontal slash marks that balanced the lighter tints of grey against the shadows formed by the ridges; it was a regional area that stood apart from the dark metallic slate colouration of the sidings. Just underneath the middle section, before the cut-off leading into the long firm metal tendrils of the lower section, was a particularly smaller yellow bracket that distanced itself inward from the main narrowing figure of the satellite proper, a lower docking bay of sorts that stood out not only as a result of the strange differing colour but also for the fluctuating orange and red orbs that circles around it; flight beacons.

The top part of the of the satellite was rather stunted by comparison with the lower regions; however, it was no doubt the most largest of sections for the bulk of the thickening central tube was covered over by a massive circular hoop. The outer hall of the disk held upon its surface a myriad of electronic looking equipment, jagged cord like lines that looped into slashed engravings, moulding in behind the smooth geometric edges of the plates that sporadically decked along its surface. Just above the hoop was the end, the bulging dome top that appeared almost stairway like in the breaking of lines albeit still holding the circular whole. Just as it was at the opposing bottom end, the top was noted for the spiking spires that rose above the dome, though unlike its counterpart these maintained a semblance of evening, that meaning the outer rung of poles maintained a full circle level around the inner poles which stood out just a few metres more, a literal spear the size of several buses. It was this top section which was causing much concern for the approaching Lantern, the silvery tint that it normally held now being full engrossed in a bright neon blue, flickering streaks of lightning in between the multitude of rungs that poles created in between each other; the primary cannon was charging and doing so at an alarming rate. The stream of green that fell in behind his tightly bound legs increased in its magnitude, a heavy pop of explosive energy providing a boost of speed as he sifted through the smaller satellites on a collision course with his goal. He could only hope that he was not too late, the satellite already having met the targeting line that brought its primary cannon on par with the moon.

* * *

"Anissa?" The Martian Manhunter reached out towards the woman before him with a feeble hand, fingers shaking as they curled inward with the turning of his wrist, "Thunder, there is something wrong with your mind," he stepped forward with care, keeping his full red eyes steady within hers, hoping to make contact through words and in the mind but she appeared unable to hear him speak, unable to feel his thoughts, silently locking her knees up straight and stepping out from the deep crater her mass made.

The first few steps that Thunder took led to further crushing of the floor, her footprints becoming well embedded in its metallic composition, but as she continued towards her target the weight she carried began to lighten, the indentations created steadily declining in their depth until she was finally on par with the flat surface. She was one stride short of conflicting with the Martian when it was decided she would make her attack, suddenly letting her left foot sink into the floor about just under an inch, becoming an anchor that furiously pulled the surrounding slickness of the floor within while her right leg rose up on a curvature, flying across her front, yellow topped foot prepped to smash against the Martian's stomach, doing so with the packing weight of several sledge hammers.

The crunch of Thunder's foot against the Martian's side did not so much as crush him more than it forced his body to bend out like an elastic, the inherent ability of shape shifting being his saving grace though to great misfortune weakening him greatly as the body worked its muscles back into rigidity. He slumped to the ground as his body became hardened once more into its natural humanoid shape. The tips of his knees collided to the floor with a rubbery twang, flattening out only for a brief moment before returning to their proper form. He groaned as he weakly looked up to Thunder, "Anissa, please, listen to me…" he pleaded as the towering woman augmented her mass once more, the focus falling into her clenched fists which rose up in preparation to fall upon him, the heavy set surely being powerful enough to crush him with ease, well beyond anything his body could shape shift out of without losing his connection to the Lanterns. It was that cold stare of hers that had become more ominous and yet it was this that had made it more meaningful, it was still her, locked in her mind. Should he survive then he was convinced that she could be forgiven; she knew not what she was about to do.

A spectacular explosion to the Martian's backside alleviated some of the tension that engulfed the room, the sound of monitor screens rattling as their faces snapped and dense layers of metal buckling as they crashed into one another being truly deafening. A hole in the wall had been formed: the Green Lantern Kyle had made his entrance in the most dramatic way possible. The emerald shield that engrossed his body slipped up to his shoulders, trailing off into the air as wisps of particles that fumed across over his head like flames, "get out of the way," he pulled back his ring fist as though he were in preparation to throw a devastating punch but surprised all when he twisted his elbow upwards to bring the clenched fingers up to the side of his head. The artist's imagination flowed into his ring, producing an illustrious stream of energy that quickly coiled into a circular bundles right above Thunder's head. It was a frying pan complete with thick handle, the round plate being six times smaller than the room itself and rather stunted in its depth. Thunder's eyes glanced above with a hefty amount of curiosity, the plate of the pan being two heads above her and quickly crystalizing into the hard unbreakable form that Kyle's will power commanded. With the snap of his wrist and sharp smashing of his hand down, the Lantern commanded the frying pan to smash down upon her, the smashing effect playing upon the already inherent tons of weight attached to her body, bending the metallic floor beyond its threshold, swiftly creating an engulfing hole that whole heartedly accepted her. He felt the rush of successes run up his spine upon the bottom of the pan colliding against the floor with an unearthly sound of hard formed vibrations.

"I thought you said this place would be safe?" Kyle pulled himself focus away from the saucer of green.

"Evidently, I was unprepared for Thunder. Her ability to alter her own mass was well beyond the energy shielding's threshold…" The Martian glanced up to Kyle, "I believe I told you to remain on the moon, you should not have come here," he strained himself to speak clearly as he pounded a hand against the floor in a haphazard attempt to regain his lost balance, feeling the decline of the floor inwards of the newly formed hole.

Kyle flicked his wrist once more as his construct fell in the air, its strength and form quickly lost before disintegrating into nothingness. He immediately rushed over to the Martian's side, tossing an arm around his back side to prop him up, "didn't want you to feel tempted if one of your friends showed up," he grunted as he pulled the equally as tall teammate upright, getting his black clad feet to firmly plant on the ground.

"Do you find me untrustworthy due to my species affiliation?" The Martian questioned as he reaffirmed his bodily strength, slightly hunching his shoulders as he felt his fingers of his left hand around Kyle's opposing shoulder, clawing into the fabric slightly to gather up some strength.

Kyle leaned forward, curving around to meet the Martian with a smirk, the murky white of his own green flavoured eyes glinting into the red sheen of his, "no, it's not that at all," he shook his head gingerly, "I couldn't stomach a friend being here all alone." With a simple nod of satisfaction, the Martian took his balance into his own hands, flimsily letting his arms hang out to his sides as he stepped forward under his own steam. "Alright," Kyle flexed his upper arms, a little bit of exercise in preparation for the oncoming battles, "what's happening here?"

"It is as I suspected it would be. All the attempts made prior to this one focused upon few minds, those closest in operation of the desired terminals, a task difficult without physical presence. But now, it is everyone, all personnel on the station, are under their control. They moved so quickly, as I anticipated they would," the Martian relented, abruptly turning around to face Kyle, "they have transported here…they're on the station."

"Then let's find them then," Kyle asserted himself, ring hand clenching with a fresh emerald spark.

"No," the Martian snapped off, "we have to stop the tractor beam from reaching its target. I had hoped that your willpower was strong enough to deflect the tractor beam, but now that you are here, we are left with very few options."

"I have Deryck there still," Kyle spoke but the confidence behind his words was left to be desired, "he'll chisel out as much as he can from the magnetite core and use it to absorb the beam."

"Are you certain that your ward has the willpower to do so?" the Martian questioned cautiously, "one such as he; so young and so inexperienced with his ring."

"I'm hoping that it doesn't have to go that far," Kyle sent out shockwaves of wrinkles up his forehead as he sighed, "it's not that I don't have faith in him…but I just don't want to have to, so there's got to be a way we can stop it before it fires," he gulped, "is there something? Did you have a plan to deal with this?"

"Yes, that being the solution you have discovered for yourself and passed along to your ward, it was the safest of options," the Martian calmly obliged though not generating any signs of relief in his colleague, "the tractor beam could only hold its power for a month's time, by which I believed I would have already connected with the Martians and brought an end to this."

"Well then," Kyle took in a big breath with the sharp jerk of his chin down to his chest, arms hurriedly clamping onto his waist sides for support, "what is the unsafe method?"

"It is possible to demagnetize the tractor beam through excessive applications of heat, the molecular motion should destroy the alignment of the magnetic domains," the Martian piqued up into an informative tone, once slicing a straight hand through the air for physicality.

"And where are we going to get enough heat to do this?" Kyle offered the question with an expression of disbelief.

"If I can regain access to the steering of the station, then a steady decline into the earth's atmosphere should generate enough thermal energy for demagnetizing," the Martian tapped the ends of his toes and nodded as the thoughts filtered through, "the extent of the damage from such an act however… I might not be able to steer it back out from the atmosphere in which case you're going to have to prevent it from-"

"Alright," Kyle interrupted, nodding in full understanding, "where do you need to get to?"

"To console room seven, eighteen floors down in section C," the Martian hastily responded as he sped walk to the gaping hole that the Lantern had created when he exploded through to save him. The hole traversed through several inch thick layers of metal, the white of a wall on the other side clearly visible behind it. In a way he was traumatized by its appearance for not only were the back silver sides of white front metal walls clearly visible in the sharp bends but the monitor screens, sleek glass plates, were smashed beyond all recognition, the three dimensional sea blue images of information wholly lost in a static laced darkness that unnerved him, "we must hurry." One foot reached up for the rim of the human sized hole, but before the heel of his other foot could be raised, he angrily reached up a hand to the front of his face, tightly holding it with his crescent like fingers.

"What's wrong?" Kyle once more rushed up to the Martian's side.

The Martian arched his head to his shoulder, the reds of his eyes becoming visible in all their fiery dread to the Lantern Kyle, "It is the boy," he stumbled, gasping for air as he lowered into a whisper, "I've been pushed out of his mind."

* * *

The engrossing darkness of the miles deep well below the moon's surface dispersed with the oncoming glow of the Lantern's emerald light, Iota, the source of this immense power, soared up the direct centre line to the ceiling. His arms spread out from his sides to their fullest extent, magically sending forth high rising flames of the illustrious particles that made well in illuminating every foot of smooth curving moonstone that he passed. Soon out from the hole, he sighed with a widening smile, eyes wandering overhead with the tilt of his head back, taking in a sparse moment of peace he hoped to duplicate in the future at the conclusion of the events that involved him this day but just as he was ready to return to his mission with the ring's complex workings of the magnetite in mind, something felt strangely out of place. He pulled his head down from its clouded thoughts and quickly performed a full circle with the occasional slipping of his chin to shoulder. He was at first frightened, filled to the brim with shock, but such feelings slipped into puzzlement before finally being succeeded by outright acceptance not that he would allow himself to fall without a fight: the White Martians had awaken. "Bring it on already?" clump fists smashed his chest, an ominous spark resulting from the collision of protective energies, "come on!"

The tall white Martians had fully encircled him, hovering a few feet above the rim of the well. Their red hued eyes were ever the more menacing in this darkness, the cascading shades of green dispelling from Iota's protective full body shield doing very little to dampen their distinct visual presence. The three peaks that rose around the back of their craniums, the crescent shape of their claw like hands, the fullness of their upper muscular structure, and the sharpness of their jaw bones with the glistening clean sets of pointed teeth cluttering the mouth space all played into an image of absolute evil, this plaguing threat to the heroes of earth being well ingrained in the minds of those the heroes protected, the extra-terrestrial beings that great minds like Lex Luthor had always warned the people about. Numbering at just under twenty, this squad of White Martians could not have been all the young Lantern had encountered in their tunnel way, indeed, a quick look across to the tunnel's mouth revealed the bustling of other's scurrying out onto the balcony extension way, their heads arching out to shoulder sides as they looked up to him.

At the seventh pound of his chest, the White Martians positioned within the floating circle turned in on him, all of them simultaneously pulling back both arms to flex out their clawed hands a short distance from the sides of their heads, fully ready to stab and tear away at the young Lantern's flesh. The first one to arrive within a foot's distance was played a walloping of a punch, Iota having successfully gathered his Lantern energies into a single fist that unleashed itself upon its jaw. Almost immediately follow the success of breaking bones, he twisted around half circle, the fingers of his fist opening up to reveal the palm from which a thick laser beam blistered out from, flattening over the entirety of the targeted Martians chest sending it down towards the well's curving wall which it smashed up against with such tenacity that chipping ensued. Iota found himself looking on in revile as the unconscious Martian fell into the darkness of the well with sizable pebbles created from the bodily collision following in after it. It was in this brief moment of empty thoughts that the grip that the Martians imposed upon him intensified, the immensely strong tugging at the side of his neck be the catalyst for bringing him back into reality. The shielding provisions of his ring proved exceptionally resistant to the skin piercing talons of the Martians but it was not as though they did not fully recognized the uselessness in such physical based attacks, they're strategy appearing to more or less the complete engulfing of his being and they were utterly relentless in their pursuit, each of the added dozens stabbing their way up to his body to the point of stacking.

Iota struggled to get his arms free but with every squirm the snake like grip of the White Martians intensified all around him; it was almost as though their legs had completely fused to become long spindling tails of sheer muscle. The last act he could muster under his own steam was to shovel his way higher in a desperate effort to shake them free in the throttles of flight, performing a series of full body twists with the image of tossed off bodies being quite humorous in his mind but in the end truly just a fantasy as his eyes found only the presence of more crescent clawed hands aiming for his throat. A single hand flew out from behind him, the whiteness of its palm becoming black in a split second the moment it touched his face. The pains of his struggle suddenly stopped, a moment frozen in time where he was completely locked in his mind….

* * *

"Kindred Emma?" Iota cried out with little provocation, not entirely certain how the name clasped to the forefront of his mind. Complete darkness had shrouded him in a much different way than that of the cave; he believed there to be a floor that he stood upon but could not feel the stomp of his foot upon it, his mind only thinking of the legs raise and subsequent drop and so to he found this to be the case for his entirety body, that although he saw the full black of his body suit and attaching green gloves and boots, he could not feel them in a physical sense, they were so hollow. He twisted around his upper body at the waist, keeping the soles of his feet solidly positioned thinking that he could somehow bend beyond the natural limits but doubt soon succeeded and flopped back into his natural orientation but the head continued on, turning to look out to his surroundings. He flexed out the emerald glow from his shielding but no matter how far it reached, any semblance of walls or even that of floor he was so confidently believed existed was absent. Any form of feeling was purely restricted to the emotional kind, this fact fully recognized with the aborting of his investigation, the half-hearted attempt being nothing more than that. It was every single kind that could be thought of save those relating to happiness; fear, distress, and many other negative takes on life all crashing upon him simultaneously, breaking away at the chips of his sanity. It was pain like he had never known, with letters of the strangest fonts slipping past his perception calling out for his death, a solution he was fully prepared to embrace when a familiar strain of emotional girth gave him reason to believe in life once more.

The tightness of his closed eyes suddenly loosened. In his panic of feelings through the darkness he had fallen to his knees, his head hunched over their wide spread. The focus of his eyes fell upon the intricate arrangement of sparkling emerald light that beamed out from the insides of his legs and fluctuated around full circle to the outside; there was no floor to deflect the glint of the light. "Kindred Emma?" he had finally worked the nerve to look up, lips beginning to twitch as an unrecognized gulp cycled down the drain of his throat. In crystal clear vision he saw her, the glowing orange being he had cried out for to save him. Her hair was long, flowing into delicate curls that peacefully graced her shoulders with the broadest of the few tickling her cheeks. The fullness of her body was engulfed in a single piece suit that was quite slimming of her muscular form, an acrobatics costume that cut off at the downward turn of her shoulders leaving her arms bare and road around the bulbs of her ankles to give opening to her feet, each individual toe fully recognizable. Her eyes were sharp, her lips were luscious, the golden glow that filtered through her whole being truly the build of a goddess, "Kindred Emma?" the young lantern cried out once more. She looked down upon him, the dark of her full circle irises interacting with his murky green before she decided to press her hand against the corresponding cheek, corralling the strands of hair to toss them back behind her head, revealing the tight point that made the top of her ear. A closed lipped smile quickly formed as she softly laid a hand upon his shoulder, pressing a silent plea to him to rise up and greet her more properly. With less than a second's worth of thought, Iota was soundly on his feet, head focussed upon her, "what's happening?" but the kind words he so desired failed to follow, the girl, without so much as a warning, took a dive into him, full body to body collision that saw the sparkle of her orange body explode right in front of his solid standing green, shattering that physical essence of hers into an unimaginable amount of jagged glass like pieces that at first soared out from the centre core of her body at light speed before quickly declining to a snail's pace, sifting through the darkness as single soul filled entities for what felt to be all of an eternity, their glows maintaining strength no matter how far they spread.

The force of the intense explosion pushed Iota backwards, his legs struggling to keep their hold on the ground as the entirety of his upper body fell back at the hip line, soon joined by the buckling of his knees. It was the first time since entering this strange world that he had felt something more than an emotional draw. It was painful but of a kind he would be willing to feel over and over again, a raging fire that touched the core of his being and vibrated throughout everything that he was; consciousness was just on the horizon….

* * *

Iota's eyelids were riveted open with surprising clarity returned to the sight filled orbs they protected. All bodily sensations soon followed suit, checking in as fully operational though this was to great detriment for the grip the White Martians held upon him had only tightened since the dip into the pains of the bleak prison that was his own mind. The clawing hand that had previously fallen upon his vision had been shocked away with a shattering spark of fiery energy that emanated from his shield but the moment of its dropping was most horrifying for the being whose hand it was had shapely swerved its way around to face Iota's front. The cord like muscle that comprised the Martian's cheeks stretched out under tense pressure with the sharp drop of its jaw, showcasing the impressive set of pointed teeth that looked about ready to bite a chunk out from the side of boy's head. The bellowing growl it mustered up from the bottom of its breathing capacity was primarily felt as echoing reverberations in the Lantern's ears, the spread of the saliva that caressed its teeth harmlessly showering the emerald shield around his face, oozing in their hit marks for less than a second for the instant burning melted it into nothing. The blast of such growl however was enough to get Iota's head to tilt back and grit his teeth in disgust of the visual. In a sudden movement, his head lunged forward to knock against the Martian's for a brief moment, "beware my power…" he cried out a heavy groan as he pushed off the White Martian that had constricted itself around the arm that possessed his ring at the end. With a series of grunts he wiggled the arm to freedom with all his strength, the continued success allowing him to retract it back behind his head, begrudgingly forming the fist that would unleash his furry. With his teeth tightly barred together and eyes narrowed in on the target, he delivered a walloping of a punch to the surprised Martian, granting to the him instant satisfaction with the tremors of cranial crushing, sending the dazed Martian to the wall with such strength that an impeccable array of cracked lines formed out from indentation the impact caused to the smoothly cut surface.

This time round, the lids of Iota's eyes gently slid shut, a massive gulp of air soon following as he let himself further soar into the chasm of darkness above. All that was his strength flowed down to ends of his fingerprints; the arm still covered by his foes already working its way free of the Martians' grip with a piercing spark of barbs that rose up from the appendage's surrounding energies. From around Iota's tightly bound legs trailed dozens of the White Martians, each one overlapping on another more so than ever, each intensifying their need to hold him in their grips as he continued to find his way free of their hold. Every bit of the Lantern energy in his ring gushed out from its top, immersing his body once more with a thicker layer that added further shades of green, "beware my power," he once more found himself saying, a boost of confidence feeling its way up as a tingle in his spine; the time had come he felt, time to do away with these hordes of psychotic enemies in a single strike of everything he had.

It was an explosion of light, one that found its centre in Iota. It blistered out firstly as a darkened source of power before eschewing outward as an orb of brighter concentrations though amazingly keeping its impossibly strong bite all the way into the outer rungs. The shockwaves carried the multitude of Martian's out towards the walls taking them fully off guard, the realization of what had hit them being nothing more than a retrospective thought for it was only a split second's time that they found their bodies down to slime against the wall, the continued pressure of the emerald orb forcing upon them the need to shape shift in order to survive. Iota's jaw dropped as his eyes shot open, his body having become fully immersed in the ring's powers, his legs limply lying out from his body while his arms continued to harden out, the pull of the explosion being particularly hard upon them. Following a decade of seconds the explosive arrangement of Lantern particles met its end, returning to the boy the basic shield that kept him safe from the hazards of space. He lunged into a series of heavy breaths, each successive one becoming quicker and tighter as he looked around this spacious room that was a good hundred feet below the moon's surface, fully taken into the no longer conscious Martian bodies that slipped away from his sight into the darkness of the miles long drop below, a place that would surely doom them in the event that he failed to get to the surface. Reminded of his mission, he looked over to the tunnel's mouth. He had to move now. He just had to.

* * *

"What do you mean?" Kyle's question came across as hard pressed, a thin line of disbelief festering at the centre of his consciousness, "something forced you out from his head?"

"Yes," the Martian swiftly responded.

"Could you elaborate a little more?" Kyle angered tone grew as the thought of his younger colleague's death gravely affected his concept of personal responsibility.

"We shall discuss this later," the Martian deflected off the harsh prodding treatment with a calming monotone, "there are more pressing matters at hand that require our attention." With the long distance telepathic connection to Iota severed and Kyle in close proximity to his mind, the abilities inherent to the Martian's of Mars were steadily, albeit slowly, returning to full strength, enabling him to fly alongside the elder Lantern as they ventured through the metres wide spanning corridor.

Constructed in line with the rest of the station, the walls of the hallway the two heroes ventured along for the most part maintained a crisp thick coat of white while the floor below held a seamless metallic façade that in particular bends bordered upon an electrical blue. Despite losses of energy to elevator transport systems and general loss of control throughout the station, the full ceiling enclosure of smooth panelled lights shined on in all their strength, their systems purely running through self-regenerating fixtures. The outside wall was nearly complete in its solidity, the presence of grey steel single piece doors being the only the breakage in the form every few metres, fitting remarkably straight to inner layers of metal despite the rounding curvature. To the inner side were similarly sized walkways that headed inward of the station's centre, for the most part connecting to the same central room which both heroes knew to be the primary observation centre from which the members of the League learnt of the world threatening power that had currently fallen upon them, today though, much to great relief, it was empty. This manual route they were forced to take pressed upon them the length of several minutes they didn't have even if flying at full speed; their goal was just too far out of reach.

The Martian's indifferent dismissal over concerns of Deryck did not sit well with Kyle, finding himself slip into a train of thought that sought out someone to blame, more specifically the White Martian race of which the Martian Manhunter was a part of, but it was these ignorant thoughts that he so carelessly chucked away moments ago, over the ideals of a friendships. He was the one who put the boy in such a position that had led to his death not this Martian, his friend Till'all, "watch out!" he cried, his flight plan turning in towards the outside wall that the Martian Manhunter flew alongside with shoulder nearly rubbing up against it. Both hands reach along the Martian's backside and proceeded to push him forward, the backdraft of the force nearly forcing his feet to hit the ground when he came to a sudden stop, an unfortunate position to be in to say the least for the presence of another hero on the station, Thunder, had returned to them with a vengeance, the mass of her body warping up the floors of one of the inner walkways that she charged down. The dive she took found Kyle in her tackle, taking him right through the wall; an explosion of thick metal layers, hard plastics and gel pack insulation being pushed aside with ease when the near indestructible shield of the Lantern's power was pummelled down against it by a body that held an incredible amount of tonnage in weight.

The interior of the room that the two heroes crashed into was completely lost on Kyle, the continued tackle carrying them over only a few feet through the corridor wall before they inevitably crashed into the floor with enough force and weight to seamlessly pass through it with a second explosion of construction materials that well outrivaled the previous one, the blue gunk that filled the plastic packs being considerably plentiful in washing their bodies over though sticking only for no more than three seconds as their tightly wound bodies sank to the floor of the room below like a cannon ball.

The section of the satellite that the two heroes collapsed into was a lounge of sorts, four stories high and spacious enough to contain a wide assortment of simple four pronged black topped tables and matching folded out chairs. It was a particularly popular place to converse in peace for the straight lined walls were an immaculate shade of metallic blue that did not distract from the openness of a white star dotted blanket of black that made up the entirety of the outside wall, the vacuum of space prevented from enacting its deathly effects by a foot thick sheet of glass. Kyle jabbed up a fist under Thunder's ribcage with hope of shocking himself free of her impeccable grip, recognizing that in the next few seconds she could very well crush him to death, the augmented mass of her body being more than enough to flatten his skin tight shielding into his organs. He worked quickly to get his position above her, pulling back his fist to join the other hand in grabbing hold of Thunder's shoulders, taking in hand his ability to fly in order to twist their jumbled up bodies half circle so that her backside came to face the floor.

Despite her best efforts to keep a heavy handed grasp on the Lantern's arms, it became quite readily apparent that he would be unwilling to follow through with her through the floor again, immediately becoming radical in the alterations of her mass, lowering as far as she could without adversely affecting herself. A few metres short of hitting the ground, Kyle made for an attempt to push himself away from her, hands letting go with a light press off so that his blocky boot enclosed feet could slip in to stomp down against her stomach, using the slight boost this provided him to get into the air where the powers of flight handsomely acted. The heaviness of her body as it hit the floor with was enough to create a short lived deafening twang that could only results from the warping of heavy metals, the point of impact creating a crater of just under a foot which caressed her body gently. Much of the surrounding furniture jumped half a centimetre, their simple yet solid frames shifting ever so slightly with the pull her heavy body created in the stretching of the floor. Kyle was fine, crossing his arms over his chest as he hovered in over top of her.

* * *

Time had long passed its barest minimum and the Martian was nowhere near his goal. A slight tremor made its way beneath his feet, believing now that all the excess power of the station had been devoted to the tractor beam, power enough to move the moon but for what reason he was unsure of. He abruptly descended to the floor of the corridor, the thick blue cape that was pinned over his shoulders fluttering around his sides as his feet solidly connected; at this moment he felt the need to take a calculated risk, one that would most certainly place his life on the line given that the full array of his abilities had not yet returned to him in strength. He held out his right hand, bringing his vision upon it and thinking of the intricate cellular structure that made it solid. "Please," he pleaded to himself, throwing himself fully into imaginary thoughts that saw all the atoms of his body breaking down from their rigidity but the task proved to be incredibly difficult and strained not that he wouldn't continue to try. He took in a deep breath as his hand lifeless dropped back to his side. His eyes swelled shut at the farthest reach of his chest on the breath, courage circling his mind now as the degeneration of his body began; fully intangible, his legs fell into the floor, a brief pause in place before the rest of his body join in its descending, eyes opening with delight just in time to match his chin with the smooth flat surface.

For the Martian it was, at first, difficult to keep himself this way, completely intangible, but by time he passed through the second floor at a furious speed it all had returned to him, a second nature. The décor of each room he silently entered and exited from blurred of bright sporadic lighting arrangements, occasionally falling into the private quarters of various members whom were well known either for their colourful personalities or their brooding darkness; needless to say, the quick changes in spheres of influence played havoc with his eyes. It was not long till he had arrived in his desired location, now wishing that he had attempted this hard to master ability much sooner.

The single floor room that he had entered was loosely rectangular in orientation for in one corner rose a sizable cylinder that was the elevator shaft, a coat of vibrant silver filling up its rounded shape into the clean white hard plastic feel of the walls; its position made the adjacent walls it touched appear considerably smaller to their direct counterparts. What was of particular interest to him of course was the elevated platform that took up the corner adjacent to the elevator shaft, long stretching ramps along each of the walls to connect into a hard plastic square base that was up to five metres on each side. Carried on its back, wedged up against the wall like itself, was the familiar computer board layout shared with the central computer hub though with some tweaks that made it quite the unique entity. While the flat monitor screens held within them that sea depth of blue, its proposed three-dimensional imaging taking recognizable effect with the bundles of pixelated data that floated around like clouds, its overall shape was nearly doubled in height by comparison, taking up nearly a full half of the wall. The keyboard that directly edged out from the bottom line of the monitor screens at about waist level were for the most part flat as it was back at the central hub but along with the series of pulsating blue circles and illuminate square of keypad features were thin sliced rectangular slots that held within them transparent card shaped objects, each one containing a multitude of information and corresponding purpose; all had been removed at some point in the recent time. With a quick scan over their realignment he affirmed his suspicious: all power surpluses had been ordered up the mainline to support the primary cannon, something he could not change without first properly shutting down the station and even then he would have to be present at the other control stations for the proper shuffling of command cards for even the slightest of movements of these cards could produce the most destructive of consequences. No, at this station he could return control of the stations orbit to his hands, let it slide into the atmosphere of the Earth where he hoped the burning effects would cause the wand of the tractor beam to lose its magnetic power but as he approached the computer board he was greeted with the strangest of problems.

"Come on," the Martian complained as his hands slipped through the card lines on his left side. About an inch of the command cards could be seen sticking out from their slots, the top line closest to the monitor screens above being completely full, eight across, while the four rows below were mismatched with four appearing to be missing at the most, "I do not have time for this," he further complained to himself as he pulled his hand back from the board, intently focussing the beat of his red eyes upon it as he had done before to achieve intangibility in the first place. Sweat inducing seconds passed as he intensified his thoughts of atoms recollecting their form, already feeling his hovering legs lock at the knees so as to allow the bottom of his feet to tap along the floor and with that first stomp, that oh so glorious stomp, his hand throttled to the computer board, poised to rip out the first row command cards and realign them back into their original positions but before he could he touch one something had caught his full attention. The square blue lights had returned in their rows across the keyboard, more numerous than as was previously seen; the transportation was in flux, this time in bulk. He angrily groaned as he slapped a clenched fist against the board. He wasn't going to be able to stop them from moving and if they're destination was not the station here then he would never be able to learn where they had gone. And then there was more….

* * *

"Thunder! Stand down," Kyle cried out as he descended to the ground, his head transfixed ahead to the muscular super heroine who gracefully step back up onto her feet, the fabric of space being the perfect backdrop for her rise, the dead emptiness of her eyes being particular unnerving, "oh your father is going to hate me after he sees these security videos." Throughout the course of his words a surge of Lantern energy filtered out from his fists, ramming its size up greatly before hardening into the standard crystalline form, near indestructible so long as his willpower held out. One step forward and the punch fell upon the standing strong woman, but much to his surprise the hardness of his construct proved to be his undoing, the superimposed knuckles being the first to shatter upon connection, the glassy pieces exploding outward like shrapnel, falling to the floor with a multitude of dings that rose in volume as the rest of the large fist collapsed. He let out a brief agonizing scream as the energies cycled back to his all too human hand, the shockwaves of pain completely encircling it as though it were needed to be broken; she had stood her ground, the augmented density of her body being more than a match for the Lantern's crude construct. He was about ready to tumble to the ground, his shoulders beginning to hunch over the loose clasping of his arms against his stomach, moaning under clenched teeth. Knees began to buckled as he heard the heavy footsteps of Thunder exiting from her crater on a course to conflict him, her powers sifting the weight down into her arms, presumably preparing to deliver the final crush with her bare hands but his imaginative mind was less than willing to be dealt such a blow: he had a risky last second idea.

Kyle's ring hand suddenly lunged out from its hold around his stomach, the Lantern particles under his control swiftly working on bringing the image in his mind to life. The first piece to enter reality was the solid wide spanning circular base from which sprouted several thick flat faced beams that extended from the outside to the centre on a low sloped diagonal line, the ones at the front facing the window being a few feet longer than the ones in the back so that the corralling of all end points made for a smaller circle about two thirds back. A smoothed fighter jet like pod appeared within the inner workings of the beams, its flattened top corresponding with the smaller circle from which sprouted a cumbersomely long tubular pole that was angled quite high to the extent that its back end nearly touched the floor. It was an artillery cannon that snapped together like building blocks, the necessary accruements of wheels and levers soon finding their fittings on the side, their operation occurring quite magically, arming it with the jade tipped bullet the size of a grapefruit. One shot was all it took, blistering out from the roundness of the cannon with the intention of decimating the glass window that protected the occupants from the effects of space. The initial impact was small but it completed its job, the smallest of cracks formed quickly becoming severed with the vacuum of space pulling upon them, taking the broken shards into its essence as the artillery cannon rescinded back into the Lantern's ring.

Thunder's attempts to remain stationary on the ground proved to be the most dramatic of failures, the heaviness of her body only assuring that she would be carried away like a ragdoll all the way through the body sized hole that led out into the coldness of space, the dispersal of weight down to her feet turning her body upside down with a multiple full body twists that could not find a cohesive pattern. That dead look in her eyes remained undeterred by the sure death that awaited her; she truly had no knowledge of who she was. Once she had entered the free roam of space, unconscious with the absence of air, Kyle shot out after her, shooting from his hand a hefty beam of energy that upon touching her completely engulfed her body in the protective energy.

Kyle rushed his arms under her like a fork lift, the limpness of her legs breaking down at the knee joint thus perfectly fitting his strong arm beneath. Bringing her close to his chest, he corralled the back of her neck; she would be fine. But just as he was getting satisfied with this odd victory, it fired. The magnetic energies that had swarmed at the top of the station, filling in every pack and crevice of the primary cannon, had blistered out in a smooth cylinder like shot, the mixtures of blue hues and spiralling lines of thick purple all the way up the shaft being a treat to the eyes before a massive burst, a surge of energy, sent sparkles of pink up its entirety. The long tentacle like rods that made up the outside appearance of the primary cannon were blurred out of their silvery skin, becoming full blue as the polar connection of the magnetics sifted their way up to their furthest points. Though caught up in the particularly beautiful glow of the tractor beam, he knew that he had some place to be, immediately recognizing the stations swift diagonal fall towards the earth, mere feet at first, but already he had spotted the flames of the upper atmosphere take their hold around the lower rungs of the station, butchering its sides like lava; the Martian had succeeded. With the safety shield taking in effect around the broken lounge window, he could now safely drop Thunder off and turn his attention to keeping the satellite from crashing into the surface of the planet. He compared this act to be akin to pushing a car whose brakes were still applied though most certainly of a greater magnitude with another more troubling thought that made him grunt in discontent; what of Deryck and the beam already heading to the moon?

* * *

In the distance Iota saw it, the thick beam of curling crystal purple lines, their multitudes intertwining with one another in a spiralling pattern that routinely met with the orbs of pink light that exploded in regularity, the dark particles that sat within each and every one of them clawing their way out to surface. Each passing second saw it become that much stronger, that much more vibrant. It would be upon him in only a matter of seconds. He had to stop it, that's what he was told, and he knew full well how to do so, but odd as it was, he could not help but feel reluctant in doing so. His chin abruptly drop to his chest, eyes forced to wander along the rigid face of the grey speckled moon a short distance below from where he flew; this is what he was here to protect, this floating rock in space that managed to find its soul mate in the Earth, forever drawn to its attractive pull. The weight of the world could be falling on his shoulders at this moment though he wasn't fully convinced of it, he just didn't know…for a second there it was all kind of humorous, being unable to reconcile such a situation that had befallen him. It was a bad time to show reluctance in his heroic duties, he knew that, but he had just fought his way through the hordes of White Martians so that he could be in this position, the hero who would save the Earth from whatever disaster threatened it. As stupid as it sounded, he couldn't stand thinking of himself as a hero, not once in his life had he sacrificed anything of his being for a stranger, at least not one where he didn't benefit from it. None of Kyle's life made very much sense to him and the perceived superficial ideas that the Green Lantern Corp held were utterly meaningless to him, he did not recall a time where he signed up, he was most likely chosen because he was in the right place at the right time. He could leave all this right now, perhaps go off to explore the universe with his limitless power…he wouldn't need to be this hero, everything that he does from this point on would be done for his own needs just as he had hoped to do less than a month back [Iota#5], he could track down the sleaze who killed Kindred Emma, return her essence to its rightful place. He just wasn't cut out for these heroics, it just wasn't him. But then it hit him as it always did when he was alone; where was he to begin? Where could he possibly go? With something as expansive as the Corp, the universe, despite his conceived notions as a ground dweller, was getting smaller. There was no place that he could run where they wouldn't be able to find him. They weren't bad people though; he had actually begun to take a liking to Kyle….

A sphere of magnetite the size of a baseball formed in his palm, the consciousness of the ring being the force behind its creation, hoping to convince the boy of his reason for being here. A smirk rose on his face, his hand gently flinging at the wrist to toss up the green glowing mineral ball up several times as his mind along with that of the ring's had found their streak of confidence. After one last small toss, he drew back his arm behind his head and proceeded to chuck the mineral ball ahead as far as his strength could muster, aimed towards the oncoming beam. He quickly took into flight after it, a thick beam of energy emitting from his ring on the thrown up fist, connecting with the distant ball. Almost instantly upon connection, the ball blue up five times its size and continued to do so exponentially, each second seeing a foot thick layer added. The young lantern grunted as his body came to interact with the side of the dwarf planet he created, the top of the ring driving itself into the side; he held on dearly with his other hand while his legs throttled out back, hoping to fly the monstrous thing it into the tractor beam. The explosive connection was made and as was to be expected, he felt his body shake with an impressive tremor, falling backwards several feet but still retaining his grasp. The sheer power of the beam was felt all over his body in a continuous tingle that felt, it was like being overwhelmed in all the beam's energies even though the point of impact was on the other side. Over and over again he pressed forward with all his strength, the speed of flight being abysmal at best but well backed up in heart, overcoming the nerves that held him back with the confidence that the ring shared with him. He was going to do it.

Though the reality saw only a few seconds pass, for him, everything felt like an eternity. He could not hold this position forever, feeling already that the impact point atop his synthetic mineral laced sphere was beginning to collapse inwards of itself, cracking lines forming out to the sides, creating boulder sized chunks that appeared ready to displace themselves and join the emptiness of space. The agonizing trembling that filtered through his body turned all that was into mush, everything save for his ring hand which had hardened into numbness but he held out just long enough. The sounds of whirling winds and collapsing rock stiffened into whimpers with the wide eyed glare he held till the final push finally meeting some relief with their slow closing, falling into the darkness of sleep, the last words he heard: "Deryck?"

* * *

The League's satellite base had been returned to its orbit and though its lack of power saw the decline of its variable colourations, the multitude of lights that shared its life with the stars, the emergence of the sun on the curving horizon of the planet below saw its silver shined outer hull glisten into radiance. In his arms, Kyle carried the unconscious body of Iota, his personal body shield having expanded to include the younger Lantern; he was alive and that thought alone thrilled him.

"He did it," Kyle exclaimed that moment he passed through the satellite's energy shielding, harmless entering with only a few bright white sparks around the edges, "he was able to synthesize the mineral with his power ring, it was…" he shook his head, removing all the shocks of disbelief, "amazing." He, along with Iota in hand, entered the lounge area that he had trashed a few minutes earlier with his fight against a mind controlled Thunder, the majority of the soft plastic tables and chairs having been displaced into the fabric of space thus leaving the room preciously clean, of course save for the deep crater of warped metal in the floor and the body sized opening in the ceiling. The Martian Manhunter was there, smiling at a minimum as he briefly glanced up to the approaching Kyle, eyes slipping back into a palm sized glass topped panel that glowed an unearthly blue; a hand held computer. "I thought for sure that they would have…" Kyle stumbled in his wording as he landed soundly to the floor, "you said something pushed you out of his mind? Was it them?"

The Martian slipped up his free hand to the side of his head, scratching in the three largest fingers in his forehead with the claws, "No, it was not," the hand abruptly dropped, "I believe there is something, or someone, in boy's mind," the sharp red of his eyes met Kyle's murky green.

"The ring," Kyle immediately proposed, "it has its own consciousness."

"No, it is not that at all," the Martian contended with a negative shake of his head, "there is something more…but I am having difficulty finding it."

Kyle sighed, the grip around Iota's body beginning to loosen, "what about Thunder?"

"I've had Anissa sent to the infirmary," the Martian sharply stated, "she will be alright. I also managed to locate the engineers…they were locked in the training simulator room. With the exception of a few shaken minds, they were all fine," he nodded approvingly, "thank you for your efforts in stabilizing the station; your willpower is quite commendable."

Kyle nodded as he lunged into a deep gulp, turning away from the Martian's stare for a moment so that he could be granted time to recollect his thoughts, "they're gone," he abruptly turned back to his teammate, "every sleeping chamber had been vacated….I couldn't find a single one."

"I know," the Martian remained calm in his holding of valuable information, "the one that managed to get to the station appears to have transported them elsewhere," he flipped up the small computer board in his hand and slapped down his other hand upon it, rubbing it upwards, "just on a base approximation of the levels used, I'd say there were over two hundred," he bobbed his chin down to his chest, "but given their, my shared complex biological systems, that transport of a single being could in fact be several."

"I don't know how long they had been sleeping there," Kyle was quick to rush into his rant, "but there's no way they could have planned all this without someone knowing, someone in the league had to have noticed all of this."

"And that of course is a fear I share," the Martian snapped back, "this Martian that got onto the station…it could have been one of us at any time, a hero or an engineer working under our eyes with little suspicion given because they are our most trusted allies. It is someone who had studied us, someone who understands us intimately to become us, has become one of us…we now need only find who it is."

* * *

Quick taps of hard plastic soles hit the grey glossed marble floor of the police station. Over and over again, an explosive furry that weaved its way into every conversation that surrounded the source, a young woman with a terrifying look in her eyes, one so riddled with fear. Her hair was lusciously long, clean and engrossed with energy, soaring out from the triangular point on her forehead and corralled around her ears to be like a brush along her backside holding an amber red hue that matched the irises of her wide angled eyes, truly unearthly. Though her body was quite slimming, she covered herself up quite wholesomely with a thick green winter jacket and a well-worn pair of jeans that snuggly fit at the knees and nowhere else. Across the front of her chest rode orangey-red lines, horizontally laid against the white, alternating every two inches; it was something of a mesmerizing arrangement to look at to say the least. Each step grew in volume as she became further distressed, "please make the voices stop, please," she mumbled to herself, slender fingers reaching up for the sides of her temples as her eyes slid shut with the strength of vice grips.

She was just about to exit the wide hallway, entering into the open foyer where petitions of the citizens were made to the officers of the law. Though the cream coloured stone wall solidly continued on her left side, the space to her immediate right was taken up by a wide spanning white desk, its flat top being held at about stomach height under the strength of the outside wall, the edge at which they corresponded being well rounded. Seven sections seemed to have been prepared along the breadth of the station desk, noted by the presence of an angled flat screen monitor rising out from the flat top, hands of the attending full black wearing officers working its surface as the patrons standing nearby related their cries for justice. It was noisy and bustling with bodies, the entrenched lighting fixtures above not helping much with their lukewarm shine, the creamy feel of the walls more or less appearing puke green to the undisturbed eye. She quickly shovelled by a tall muscular man in a black jacket, knocking into an elderly lady in a bright blue hood which caused her to go into a tight breath shock when the woman scowled at her. "Please stop," her hands further dug into the sides of her head as she weaved in through the collective masses to the front of the desk.

"Can I help you ma'am?" The attending officer was a youthful looking man, tall with straight shoulders. The full black uniform he wore, much like those whom he worked alongside, was only accentuated by the presence of golden circular badges on the outside edge of each shoulder, detailing the station number and city department he worked for. His eyes were a brazen brown, well suited to his smooth combed hair that parted two thirds across his forehead. He appeared most earnest to help her, the feeling of concern brimming out of every part of his body.

"I need help," the woman lightly smashed both hands down into the desk as she leaned forward, eyes wandering into the assisting officer, "I need protection from them…."

"Alright," the officer nodded, sliding down a hand onto the monitor screen, head bowing out from the stare to see where his fingers had touched, concluding his assessment with a double tap. "Who are you needing protection from?"

"From…" the woman began to slur, hands dropping from their hold to come back to her sides as she took a giant leap back, her frightened face sending chills up the officer's spine as he became immersed in confusion, "you're one of them aren't you?"

"No," the officer sternly denied, "please, we're here to help you," he flexed out his arms, hands loosely landing on the desk top. He humbly smiled, buttoning up his lip and nodding politely, silently calling the woman to come back to the front of the desk, "please, tell me your name?"

"Megan…" she took in two tight breaths, "Megan Morse."


	35. Iota 10

Iota #10  
Volume 1. Story 7.  
The Woman with the Amber Hair

* * *

Like a massive bubble out from the shore line was a hub of decaying brick, mortar, wood, grime, and anything else from a bygone era that could be slapped together and called a building, a business or a home. The spanning roadways that separated them into city blocks did not much better in shape, they were chipped and churned beyond repair, the former black tar smoothed surface having taken on all forms of weathering that passed on throughout the seasons and rarely if ever met a hand willing enough to maintain its dwindling mortality. The solid cement waist high barriers that divided the roads from the sidewalks did not fare much better, the straight cuts of their backsides and curving inward fronts having been met with one to many vehicular accidents; at the very least, they may have very well saved the lives of those venturous enough to walk outside. Though this place was rampant with criminal activity it was particularly meticulous and organized in its operation, forced to be so for most part due to the street level vigilante's that worked well outside the popular moral grounds held by media friendly heroes like the Justice League, their methods decidedly being more violent and unremorseful. Needless to say, the struggle to remain here was a constant one; it was the darker, seedier region of an otherwise fully modern city that surrounded it, a place built up with the toughest of metals, the clearest panels of glass forgings, the most efficient of energy fixtures and formulated together with the strength of stone and hard plastics that moulded into the most intricate of designs. That outside world reached for the stars, towering over this wasteland, marginalizing its existence to the point of ignorance. Nothing conveyed the attitude of this sullen place better than the eyes of those living there. If they were not bastions of crime or crazies in costumes looking to feed their notions of vengeance then they were downtrodden, tired, feeble, and a hungry lot with little to look forward to. There was a place of hope though, where the faces smiled and the stomachs were filled with food and that's exactly where she intended to go though not exactly for those reasons….

Each hair upon her head was stained with the beauty of amber, a colour that was lovingly matched with her wide eyes that sunk ever so softly within the most vibrantly clean of skin tones, such touches being truly unnatural, almost unearthly. She was certainly not fitting in with the mood normally felt by those local to here, she more frightened looking than deeply disturbed. Her lips, no matter how luscious and curved they were to perfection, trembled with the rattling of her body lunging into each step along the rigid pebble filled sidewalk, the hard soles of her well-worn shoes making a rather ear piercing tap that appeared to be affecting her balance as he made her way around similarly cloaked people, herself wearing a thick tree green winter jacket that bubbled all the way down her arms before returning to the skin with a tight strapping elastic around her wrists. Alternating across her shirt were horizontal bars of white and the most offsetting shades of orange while her pants remained a standard blue that fit the jean material, a deep shade that was particularly brightened around her knees where it was most tight. Her hands reached for the sides of her jacket, pulling them tightly together to secure the centre of her body, bobbing down her head as she passed to men in dark waist coats, their bulked physique and lowly tipped hat brims causing her some great discomfort, their eyes laying within the deep shadows the brims' created. An outward slide towards the concrete dividers and they passed by her without fuss, still though, the tremble and fear remained.

The streets at this early hour in the morning were sparse of roaming vehicles, but as this was, they rarely went on by without being noticed by a passing pedestrian. A small car's engine was being particularly loud, the whirling electricity angrily ordering the thin rubber line that encircled the tires forward. It was this zapping sound that caught the amber haired woman's attention, her steps slowing in their pacing while the eyes drew towards that vehicle on the far out lane, its once vibrant yellow painted exterior having faded down to an unsightly pale cream, a sign of its age. Though she could not see through the heavy tints of the windows, she felt herself into the mind of the seated individual inside, the person's feelings of contempt for those within the circle of relationships, the total disillusionment with personal existence, and a desire to show the world this painful sorrow; she felt the need to search for something more, something better than what it was buried deep within, but was suddenly torn away from the connection when a thickly painted navy blue box like van blistered on the inner lane beside her, the passing winds carrying her long vibrant hair flail across her face, tickling the thin point of her nose. A new mind had entered into a sphere, one of great thrill and greed, a happiness that would not be shared with others. The dichotomy between these two minds she touched was duly noted but among they're myriad of differences they shared but one similarity: she desired to not be within any one of them. The tapping of the hard soles intensified as she reasserted herself forward.

The hope she was looking for was directly at the end of this road she walked alongside, within a storefront building whose flat face forced the lanes of the main road to diverge out to the sides. Hand sized bricks made the building's foundations, constructed in such a way that each block sat atop two others in the layer below it. The entirety of its front and sides were remarkably smooth, the original builders having taken care in compressing each layer against one another, seamlessly blending out the gluing substances in-between. It was to great shame then that this form was on a downward curve as all other buildings were in this place, the deep red colouration having been for the most part chipped away to the unpleasant grey shade of stone that made up the bricks' composition. The bottom floor had a sizable flat laying rectangular section embedded in the front wall just left of the centre, presumably carved out for the purpose of holding a large sheet of glass, a window, which would display the inside of the store and perhaps advertise its delicacies but all those nice things were missing, replaced it would seem with thick inch wide flat beams of steel that connected together along their broadsides and filled into the wall handsomely, their faces running perfectly well with the building front. The building's overall two story height did not fare well against its peers to either side, their greater height casting a shadowy image upon it and immersing the stunted alley ways in unquenchable darkness. What it lacked in grandeur however was more than made up in the arena sized plot of land it held and, most importantly, the multitude of people who sought to be under its roof, at the moment over a dozen clambering through the dual door opening, the two near solid steel doors having been forced to swing inside where they collided and became entrenched in the wall.

The amber eyed woman battled her way across the street, steadfastly refusing to let her knees bend in stride thus resulting in a very awkward looking goose step march, the bulk of her heels sliding back into a crush against the ground with a thunderous tap, the sound escalating in its tenacity as the pace picked up to a light run. She was a tad bit hesitant to step inside. The thoughts that these people held to be most personal were filled with such a terrible assortment of woes, pains that were stifled into the lower recesses of their minds with the step inside. It was all too confusing, this steep shift from isolated despair to the highest rungs of ignorance that brought forth a form of relaxation, a sliver of hope though not of the same variety that she so desired. It was not recognizable words that had slipped into her consciousness from theirs so much as it was the collection of feelings, the accumulation of patterns that told a story over and over again until it was an undisputed fact that silenced all doubt. Of these many things that filtered through her senses, the most paramount of concerns was attributed to the weather, a subject she had not yet noticed herself for she did feel the world around them as they did. They complained of the blistering heat that boiled their skin, adding further they're unwillingness to remove any articles of clothing to acquire some fresh air lest those few precious personal things be lost to them when the winter rolled round as it always had. Their continued distress led them to silently curse the full the clouds overhead, its full coverage of the sky having failed to grant the people shade as they so expected. With her back slammed up against the front of the building, the meagre space dividing the steel encased window space from connecting with the entrance way, she let her eyes wander up to the world above; there was something about those clouds lines, the clutter of sun dipped colours as they mixed in with the natural grey hue. It was all something important to her and for that reason she felt herself to blame for this heat that plague the people so. She slowly inched her way towards the entrance way, side stepping while flat palms ran along the brick lines, unable to take her eyes off the glow of the sky as she took that first step inside.

A hallway directly continued on from the entrance way, streamlining all the way to the back wall of the building, becoming the central division line from which all sections on either side could be reached. The walls were an inch short of connecting with the thick metal trims of the dual spaced door frame and appeared almost plastic like in texture, a lighter thickness in comparison to the heavy plastics used in most modern construction operations, bubbling out slightly like domes in several sections, just begging for someone to smash it down against the more suited solid wall in behind. When the pressings of her foot found a floor with a softer sensation, the amber haired lady's head suddenly shot down to her feet where she quickly became enamoured in the black spots that hacked their way through an otherwise fully white linoleum floor. With a shaky breath expulsed, she worked the nerve to turn around, calming down the intensive and intrusive thoughts that plagued her so that she could seek out her desired location. The wall to her right side was generally solid for the first few metres in before creating a spacious opening that was nicely fitted with white painted wooden planks to make up a frame. The rest of the way down primarily consisted of steel doors that, much like the planks of the opening, stuck out from the cream coloured walls with a bright white coat of paint. The wall to her left held a similar face only that the spacious opening was much sooner down the way. A quick few steps and she had made her way through it.

The flooring of the hallway continued into the room as did the unconventional wall sidings. It was rectangular in its orientation, the inner most broadside noted as a shared wall with the central hallway. It was some sort of dining room and evidently the most popular room as a result. Several soft wooden circular topped tables spread out through the area, held up in their positions by crude black painted metal beams that split apart from the centre line near the bottom into four flat lying tentacles that thusly kept the overall figure steady. Four pronged styled chairs of a matching metal to the table support beam filled around the circular face tops, all of which for the most part were occupied by those starving many who knew the rising of their own spirits when a bowl of soup was smothered in between their hands. It was at this time that they shirked off their heavier jackets and gave themselves away into the engulfing conversations that only friends could share. The atmosphere here was the pinnacle of relaxation just like the shift in feelings had seemed to predict, they were still seen to some as a depressing lot of men, women and some children but at this moment, that image, those perception, could tread no water. Some distance towards the back of the building was a counter top cutting from the outer to the inner broadsides though cutting short of the latter to enable a sizable hallway, though not as spacious as the central one, that presumably led all the way back into the kitchen. The counter top, much like the tables, was a nice bright creamy wood slate about an inch in thickness. It was cut into a long rectangular board that was well-rounded around the edges to the point of making sizable bulbs on each corner. A solid fronted metal cabinet met the challenge of supporting it all: top, utensils, stacks of glass white bowls, and cauldrons of soup.

A tall woman stood behind the counter, leaning in over top of one of the cauldrons with ladle in hand, tempting herself to dig deep in the barrel's depth to pull up from the bottom the nutrition that had grown attached there. Her slick black hair was tied up into a bun that delicately sat at the back end of her cranium, pulling back each strand of her from her forehead which understandably glistened from the perspiration. Her cheek bones were perfectly round and as such were to be the most notable facet of her face not that they went without competition from her chin, a plump bubble that smiled along with her lips. Over top of her short sleeved purple shirt was a white apron, one that wasn't exactly dry at the moment given the occasional spills of food as the ladle was retracted. She appeared to be delighted with her work here but when the amber haired woman entered her sharp green eyes lit up in shock, lips slipping from their grasp as her ladle hand went limp. With a few heavy pants of air, she left her position for the inner hallway just as the young woman was making her way over to meet her, "Megan?" she cried out with an grounded hush, "I haven't seen you here in months. What happened?" she swiftly knelt down her head to weave her way in beneath the woman's hunched shoulders, the wavering of her green eyes over top of her coming to an abrupt end the moment they came to rest within that unearthly amber hue.

"They found me," Megan gulped, tears waiting to slip out from the lower rung of her eyes, "they hurt me," her head rose to much horror: scrapes and burns crossed over her cheeks and beneath her chin, weaving in among the multitude of small bruises in their many blue hues, engulfing the entirety of her. They were superficial injuries at best and seemingly quite fresh, "I tried everything," she sobbed, "but they kept hurting me."

"They found you?" the helpful woman paused for a moment, "the voices of those beings…the ones that were in your head?" she questioned with an informed backing, placing a hand upon each of Megan's shoulders to steady her, "what about the feelings? Have they stopped now?"

"No, no, no," Megan snapped with the rapid shaking of her head from side to side, "I can hear everyone. I can feel everyone," she stressed with the relinquishing of her tight shoulders, arms now hanging lifelessly from the sides, "they'll find me again. They always have," she levelled her fear deep into the woman who braced her, "it's won't stop. I can't make it stop."

"Megan I need you to calm down…it's going to be alright, OK?"

"No its not," Megan spoke defiantly, "it hurts…" an expulsion of air clasped to the bottom of her lungs, "it hurts!"

* * *

Through the sun dipped clouds the emerald sharpness of Iota soared, parting away the enclosure with his head focused to the ground and hands pressured against his sides, setting himself up like a recently fired bullet in an attempt to attain terminal velocity. As far as he was concerned the more mundane aspects of his day were coming to a close, he believed that his time spent in classrooms and dealing with classmates, one of which stood out in particular, to be enormously wasteful of his time given the power he possessed. Though he originally held the ring in contempt, the moral philosophies it carried not being inclined to support his own, the world may have very well have been saved by his hand [Iota#9] and he was flying high off that thrilling experience ever since. He enjoyed that feeling immensely, now wishing that he could hold on to it forever. The best way to accomplish that however involved that he learn how to become a better hero, a path well in the making under the tutelage of the elder Lantern Kyle Rayner.

The ring generated for the youth a costume unique to those worn by the officiated Green Lanterns of Earth though maintained a unified image that reflected them and the Green Lantern Corp they represented. A slick rectangular panel of green stretched across his face, engulfing the entirety of his nose and eyes on the wrap around that nearly touched from ear to ear. The eye slots, much like the overall shape of the mask, were rectangular in their orientation and held within their thickness a screen of milky green that kept his natural eyes from being an outside visual. At each corner of this mask were straight edged angular bits that smoothly spread off from the central piece, the top set reaching up to his temples while the bottom set curved inward of his cheeks. Engrossing most of his body below the jaw line was a black body suit, highlighted occasionally by the standardized Lantern green that matched his mask. His shoulders were just such an abstraction, having a strip of green run across the top line before inevitably roaming in downward cutting off just under his shoulder blade. His forearm engulfing gloves and shin high boots were another match; crystalline in solidity and blocky in shape, straight edged all the way up to the mid knuckle joint of his fingers which were allowed the leniency of freedom. The most recognizable portion of his costume was the emblem that sat squarely at the centre of his chest, held within a centimetre thick green line that formed a hexagonal shape. Stylized white triangles sat within, their points facing inward of one another and flattened out to fill in what they could of the hexagon outline thus creating a very hourglass like shape.

At current moment, the excess Lantern particles his ring generated filtered throughout his body, engulfing him in a protective shield that successfully deflected the sting of the unbearable heat from touching his skin as well as providing him with an expenditure of oxygen in a region that was short on supply. With the sharp drive to the ground a multitude of these particles weaned off from his body in a twisting show of fiery light, the finality to these bursting pops of energy coming when he flipped around to get upright in preparation to the land, the shuddering smash of his well-guarded feet bristling off the energy as flames that whipped into the air along his shoulder line. He had landed in a quiet alleyway that connected two parallel running neighbourhood roads, crossing in between a long row of equally sized and ruggedly designed townhouses, one of which was familiar to him as home. The rest of his journey would have to be made on foot and without the support of his ring.

The base of the townhouse he shared with Kyle was like the others: atop plastic encased concrete blocks that showcased a rigid grey stone colouration. They were built in stacks of two that towered upwards of hitting a single story, layered in such a way that every block below shared the burden of the blocks above with the ones beside it. The wall these large blocks made were regularly interrupted by stone stairwells that led up to the front entrances of the townhouses, the structuring of wall continuing inward of the break thus creating sizable plots of land to either side of the path that led to the steps. The plots were filled with rolled out carpets of grass and surrounded by a stomach high black fence; vertical squared bars spaced about a foot from each other and carried spear like points at their ends. The building itself was coated in a fake brick overlay that was varnished with a dim dark purple hue though not exactly sharp in clarity of colour being that it was in a very ruffled state of character with various degrees of circular cuts and scars on the surface level thus giving off a very distinct look. At either side of the centre of the building and ahead of the grass fields were large window panes that were gently shaded with a dark tint making view of the furnishings within impossible. Above these panes were a series of smaller though decently sized windows that corresponded to each floor above. The roof was composed of a foot long plaque like metal, the shade of brown given to each individual plaque creating a textured look. It was triangular in shape; the broadside running horizontal to the building's front and back while connecting on a smooth slope towards the centre line. A similarly designed yet smaller arch moulded out from the mix at the front, taking a position at the centre of the house and extending downwards like a column towards the entrance way where it formed something of a hut with two beams at the front of the short order porch that that the steps lead up to. The boy was nearly up onto this porch section, already enamoured with the brownish colouration of the heavy wooden door that sat square in between two yellow tinted windows that ran nearly the full length of the door along its sides while being only a foot across.

"Kyle? Home…" Deryck, as he was named outside of his heroic identity, cried out as he lightly slammed the door behind him, a solid sounding click affirming within his mind that the magnetic connection that kept the door air sealed had been made. He was above average in shape to his peers, the development of such a form coming from his belief in the powers of strength, a notion that has only intensified in meaning since he received the ring. His hair was black, smoothly combed to the lead of his forehead where it ran of straight over his equally as dark brows, accentuating the crisp pale green of his eyes. Oddly, his street clothes matched well to his costume, black pants and short sleeved shirt with a well worked leather like green jacket overtop, the rectangular magnetic clamps, usually composed down along the front, left undone so that the sides could flair out with his every movement. "Kyle?" he called out once more with jeer as a smile formed.

The flooring of the townhouse was composed of a heavy wood cut into thin hand size strips about a metre in length. They were lined against one another at various degrees in their lengths, spanning from the left side of the building to the right as it was seen from the front entrance. Tightly packed to smoothness and covered in a thick coat of varnish, the floor practically glistened with the invading light from the yellow tinted windows beside the door. There was a central hallway to this townhouse; its walls well lined to the full space of the front entrance, though divided into two proper sections, the similarly wood panelled stairs running up alongside the right wall while the left was open all the way to the back end of the building where the white linoleum of the kitchen stood out against the wood trim. The living room space was almost directly to the right; it was spacious and rather quaint in its structural design but if the lone ugly green chair was anything to judge, it was not much to look at on the decorative angle. All the walls throughout the house were painted a standardized green; how fitting.

"Come on Kyle, I want to get to The Kitchen," Deryck chuckled as he stepped into the hallway along the left side, narrowly avoiding conflict with the stairs, "show up some of those holographic constructs the Martian keeps thinking up for me to fight," he kicked up his ring hand and immediately set his mind upon the formation of an object worth the bottom side of his boot. A full bodied figure about his height but wholly lacking in detail appeared. It was nothing but a soulless shell of round shapes that corresponded to a head, torso and limbs, all of which held a strong stance at the line dividing the wood and linoleum. A two stride jog and he unleashed a clean swift kick into the cylinder that made up the construct's torso, square into the chest, sending it backwards into the kitchen, rapidly retracting the Lantern's energy back into his ring before the hard construct could collide against the counter space that lined the back wall.

The kitchen was very simple in design, the standard fitting of simplicity meant to be duplicated with every other townhouse in the area though in this particular case even more so. The wall to the immediate left following in from the hallway was covered with the pristine white counter top and similar styled siding. It continued into the corner before sharply turning along the much longer adjacent wall about two thirds of the way, the cut off coming with the appearance of two full door sized sheets of glass, one of which was built with the intention of being slid across behind the other thus giving exit to the backyard. Almost directly ahead from the hallway frame was the silver shine of dual side by side sinks firmly embedded within the counter; they were all that was to the counter, all else was bare. Things were so easily accomplished with a power ring that generated with its energy whatever they required for any purpose so long as the willpower was there to back it up, the two wielding such rings in this home had forsaken even finding a suitable dining table, the space set aside for such a thing near the sliding doors being noticeably empty.

A small window strip above the sink revealed something to Deryck as his constructed person turned punching bag rapidly dissipated down to the simplest of lines before inevitably succumbing to nothingness. It was Kyle on the outside back lawn, corralling the top of the cream coloured wooden fence with both hands as he leaned over towards a black haired woman whom he seemed to be entertaining a conversation with. Deryck's eyes did not waver from the strange sight as he slowly took a few steps inward of the kitchen, unable to decide whether he should remain where he was or perchance bother the Lantern assigned to his peculiar case.

"Guy, well, he was an interesting character," Kyle words broke through a light chuckle, reminiscing through the relationships he's made throughout his heroic career, specifically focussing upon one he shared with a particular comrade in the Corp. Kyle, much like Deryck, was in good shape and fittingly strong for someone his age, his tempered wisdom acquired through the decades long career calling him to approach heroics based upon his own prowess before consulting the Lantern's ring. However, unlike Deryck, his hair had taken a dive from its once vibrant black so akin to him in his youth though he nonetheless maintained that strong image of vigour in his dark green eyes. Years of service in the Corp shaped a comfortable feeling with the sleek black under armour he wore beneath his costume, holding onto an unwillingness to remove it regardless of whether he was Green Lantern at the moment or casually civilian as Kyle Rayner. Sure, he had taken to some admirable dress pants over top and on this occasion wore a sea blue collared button up shirt, but it was that full bodied under armour that was so difficult to ignore. "Oh, Deryck," he smirked as the boy made his way through the sliding door arrangement, casually looking towards him with a small nod of greeting.

The fabricated carpet like grass enfranchised in fenced off sections of the front yard were also present as the layout of the backyard which was, in general, matching to its shape and size though with the absence of a clear cut walkway and accompanying stairwell to divide it. The fully wood constructed fence was coloured in a creamy light brown paint, thickly plastered on making it appear almost rubber like all the way round. It surrounded the entirety of the green blade laced plateau and as such came to be shared with that of the surrounding homes, the backside of the strip of townhouse up ahead of Deryck being similar in structural design to the strip he lived in albeit a brownish red colouration atop their crusted plastic brick overlay as opposed to rustic purple. He gingerly made his way towards Kyle, returning with a small smirk of his own and polite greeting gesture to the woman on the other side of the fence, their presumed neighbour.

She was almost on equal standing with Kyle but excelled him in the ability to smile, her cheek bones being pleasantly round with a curving chin that really accentuated the curvature of her lips. Her slick black hair wavered around her shoulders, body covered tightly in a short sleeved eggplant purple shirt, "this is our neighbour Dreporeia?" Kyle fumbled his way through the pronunciation, pushing his body off from the fence as he turned towards the woman in hope that he would get some affirmation, "is that how your name is spoken?"

"Yes, Kyle," she slyly chuckled, "but please, call me Drew."

"She's a Vuldarian," Kyle laid a heavy hand on Deryck's shoulder as he slowed down to a stop beside him.

"A Vuldarian?" Deryck propped up an eyebrow in puzzlement.

"Yes," Drew slyly stated as she slapped her fingers atop of the fence line and narrowed her round hazel eyes into Deryck with a seductive almost alien glare, the sweetly touched smile in particular unnerving him.

"Nomadic extra-terrestrials," Kyle sharply stated drawing with an informative drawl fixed into his tone. Drew looked up to him at a near instant; it was not the kind of look he found to be particular pleasant by any means, "unless I'd be wrong in saying that?" He winced.

"Only on the galactic scale of things," Drew stepped back into her chipper mood as she rose up from her hunched position on the fence, "my descendants were nomadic. Now a days though, we tend to travel from country to country on this beautiful planet of yours till we find something that fits our fancy…" she briefly glanced down at Deryck's hand, "I have to say I'm a little surprised that I'd find myself neighbours with two Green Lanterns, even in this country which seems abundant of them."

"Kyle?" Deryck's eyes bolted to full openness, tilting his head ever so slightly to Kyle with the start of quivering lips.

"It's alright," Kyle kept his cool demeanour, "she means no harm to us."

Whilst shaking his head back from the frightening state of mind, Deryck came across a child about half his height standing in the centre of Drew's backyard. He was quite similar to her in look, shortly cut black hair and the like though appeared to have more of a fascination with blue as the baby hued variant was present in the short sleeved shirt and shorts he wore. The boy had their back to them and was in the process of sitting down cross legged with a bright orange stomach sized ball that would inevitably fall into his lap. "I…" Deryck attempted to pull his eyes away from the back of the boy's head but there his focus remained as he ventured towards feeding his curiosity, "you don't look very…" he was hesitant finish, doing all that he could to ward off eye contact with Drew but knew after five seconds of awkward silence that it was necessary, once more catching himself locked in her seductive glare.

"Alien?" Drew popped her lips in a mocking voice, "we're shape shifters to a degree, but my son Purcell and I, we come from a long line of intermingling with the dominant species native to this planet," she glanced briefly at her child, "it's all terribly complex on the genetic level and I've never taken much time to care for any of it. Suffice it to say, we pass as humans just as well as you both do."

"Can I?" Deryck pointed over the fence towards the boy seated in the yard, somehow understanding from visual impressions alone that this alien child was bored on account of having no one in which to pass his ball with.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind," Drew politely responded, nodding towards her boy as she came to accept the gesture of neighbourly compassion, its emotional power overcoming whatever hostility or uneasiness existed between them only a moment ago. She smiled as Deryck firmly planted his hands upon the fence line and used his strength to get over top of it, "I'm sure he'd love someone to play with."

The boy, Purcell, piqued his head up with the emergence of Deryck's shadow over top of him, soon arching his chin up over his shoulder where he caught eye on the green jacket wearing young man just as he turning inward and around to greet him straight on. "What's the matter?" Deryck questioned as he planted his right knee into the ground, the coarse grass bending under the full weight of his body with a crunch and crackle, stopping no more than an inch down on the tightly pounded dirt that felt more akin to cement than proper growing soil.

"This grass is weird," Purcell scoffed with a harrowing frown. A hand of his left its clasp on the bright orange ball in his lap to scrape along the grass blades along the side of his bent leg. His dark eyebrows narrowing down towards the centre of his nose further adding upon the already layered displeasure he held, "it's no good for football."

"What?" Deryck chuckled with confusion evident in his eyes, "all you got to do is toss it around," he pulled his hands around just ahead of his exposed shin where his mind swiftly cobbled together an image that instantly transpired through the ring, generating an elongated ball in with two noticeable points at either end. It assuredly hardened into its pigskin tightness, square cut laces along one strip. Deryck complimented his accomplishment with a small one sided smirk, "it's doesn't even have to touch the ground if you can get a good grip on it," he swivelled his fingers around to the side where the strong laces stretching, lining each digit up quite finely to the rungs.

"No," Purcell shook his head in disproval. He proceeded to smash the palm of his hand into the ground and promptly used it as a balancing post to get himself back onto his feet. The round orange ball slid out from his lap, landing just ahead of his feet with a light bounce against the hard ground. "Foot," he rose up one of his legs where he quickly pointed towards the ending piece of the limb, "ball," the raised leg dropped but not before winding up behind his torso. Lunging forward, he took into the heaviest kick he could muster with his foot, firing the ball ahead of him with a boom, hammering into Deryck's shins with a depressing clap of fabric and flesh covered bone.

"So," Deryck's shoulders slumped along with his eyes, "your one of those kids."

"So, you were talking about your volunteer work," Kyle reignited the conversation with a casual tone just as his elbows began to wander over the running fence line. Satisfied with their position, he let the drawn elbows snuggle on top of the solid beam before allowing the rest of his arms to waver upwards towards his head, hands soon clasping together in a loose arrangement of conflicting fingers.

"Yes," Drew nodded, "I volunteer at the soup kitchen whenever I get the opportunity and," an expulsion of pent up air clawed from the bottom of her lungs, "and sometimes I try do more." She began to turn away from Kyle, though remaining in a fixed position, coming to an abrupt stop when her backside came to rest along the edge of the fence. She watched her young son take shots at the bemused Deryck for a few precious seconds, the young man furiously tossing out his hands as he attempted to get his legs around the smaller boy and hopefully on the ball but to no avail. Her attention abruptly turned towards townhouse owned in her name, its size, shape and colour very much mirroring the neighbours all around the block, "I have a few spare rooms I've set up. Just in case there's not enough room elsewhere," her voice became sullen as her chin dropped to chest, "there's this poor girl, Megan, I've taken her in. She appeared in the kitchen about six months ago. She was all battered and bruised. I would feed her as much as I could and treat her wounds the best way I knew how. I had always thought of asking her about what had gotten her beat on a weekly basis but I kept that to a personal level, she would tell me if she wanted me to know. She had known I was wondering, so one day she told me," she suddenly turned back to Kyle with a strong eye, "she's a telepath."

Kyle, though reasonably puzzled by the dump of information, nodded in understanding, "she told me she was having difficulty controlling the intake of other's thoughts, their feelings. She was starting to lose her grasp on sanity," Drew continued, "the beatings though…she's told me that she is being relentlessly followed, that there is this group of monsters who desired to use her for their machinations." She took in a heavy breath of air, the tense feelings reformulated throughout her shaking frame, "one day she vanished. Six months later, this morning, she reappeared in the kitchen…in worse shape than I had ever seen her in before. She was crying about these…these monsters. They still wanted to make use of her. That she only barely escaped this time," she fumbled around through her finishing words which went by rather furiously in momentum. Pockets of moisture began to fill in the lower edge of her eyes; she truly was concerned for this girl and Kyle recognized this in full.

"Have you tried calling the police?" Kyle questioned bluntly. "There are facilities equipped to handle these kinds of cases, the D.E.O, Star labs…."

"I've wanted to…to call for someone who could help," Drew shook her head in a negative manner, "but she refuses to deal with anyone she doesn't know. She's told me that the last time she went to the police, that's how they found her," she paused for a moment in collection of her thoughts which seemed too grew in intensity as new words slipped from her mouth, "she's tried to escape whatever these things are," she sloshed about in the most fiery treads of scorn, "but it seems to have done no good." She took in another heavy breath, letting it fester throughout her body so as to attain some relaxation of her wounded nerves, "I just don't know what to do. I'm ill-equipped for this."

"Where is she now?" Kyle flexed out his body.

"She's inside," Drew replied, finishing off with a gulp.

"Alright," Kyle nodded, "I have a friend who's a telepath. He might be able to help…." He sighed, "let's go see how she's doing."

* * *

While structurally similar to Kyle and Deryck's shared space, Drew's living room was lively with energetic colours and furnishings that matched an overall notion of décor that neither of the ring wielding heroes possessed. The floor was pristine with its wood panelling, noted for its beautifully varnished face that glistened well beyond its natural darkness, granting to it a solar shade of gold, mostly so on account of the massive window pane at the front being unhindered by any form of tinting. Similar to the overlay of the building's whole, a series of plastic rustic purple hued bricks formed a sizable fire place that sat upon an inch high base layer, capping off with a thick wooden mantel piece painted in a slick dark shine that patterned well to the engrossing old fashioned image. It was embedded in the wall that opposed the central hallway, standing out from it no more than a foot and a half, and though it looked real enough, the black steel box that rested on the base within its form contained only fake wooden logs viewable behind a glass front piece; they never burnt, whatever fire there be most likely existing further in behind where the fuel injectors sat. A string like furry blood red carpet took much of the floor's centre space, its straight edges lining up perfectly to the two surrounding couches, the largest being three single person sized cushions wide, its form lined up parallel to the central hallway, while the other was a single cushioned one that had its back facing the white trimmed entrance way that led into the kitchen. They're skin was leather like, fully stretched around the box like bases, fitting tight to their perfectly flat sides and accompanying arm rests while being loosely bound to the resting side cushions as was necessary to conserve the comfort such soft cotton within provided. The auburn colouration of the couch and surrounding walls were well matched to the hair of the young woman whom sat within. Snuggled into the middle cushion of the long couch, Megan sat quietly with her hands on her lap, taking in deep breaths while her eyes stared in the bowls of the fire place pit without the faintest of blinks. As sad as it was, her hair was not the only part of her body that fit well to the colours of the décor, her face, while healed significantly since the morning, still held present on the cheeks and under the chin a myriad of scrapes and burns. At the moment, everything was surreal, the serenity this place conveyed becoming fully actualized in her fragile mind, but something this good, such a rare feeling, could not last that long, not for her anyway.

"I don't like the game," Deryck snapped, obviously displeased with the way things turned out with the young Purcell, the alien boy whom really didn't appear all that alien, "you won't even let me touch the ball."

"You're supposed to use your feet," Purcell swiftly responded with a slippery if not mocking edge to his tone, "that's why it's called football."

"I'm more of a hands on kind of person," Deryck quickly found his rebuttal but nonetheless appeared to be holding back the urge to throttle the kid's throat. The two boys exited from the kitchen area and into the living room where they immediately caught the attention of Megan, her hands suddenly clutching for her stomach while her backside pressed up against the backrest of the couch. She had gone into defensive mode, her wide eyed stare being just as ubiquitous as the boys' whom had just entered her company, motionlessly standing in place one step in from the pearl white linoleum floor and onto the smoothed panelled wood; they were everywhere and yet so narrowly fixed on the points of their irises.

"Hello Megan," Kyle stepped into the living room, casually pushing Deryck aside with a feeble hand as he ventured for the front of the fire place, "my name is Kyle." He came to an abrupt stop once his backside faced the fireplace, calmly looking across at the seated amber haired woman with a face of concern and pity all bundled into one, "this is Deryck," he waved out his nearest hand to Deryck whom instantly shot a puzzled look up to his caretaker, an eyebrow raised and mouth gaping open, "we're hoping that we can help you."

"Why?" Megan shot a question through a short interval existing in between panting breaths. She leaned forward slightly, raising her chin up ever so slightly to fix her unearthly eyes with Kyle's strong and vibrant green.

"It's just what we do," Kyle contended with a small affirming nod.

The piercing focus Megan held on Kyle inevitably developed some tension that was not only shared between them but all those in their company as well, the two boys off to the corner of her eye standing motionless with the coldest, almost discriminatory, glares in her direction. Needless to say, she felt a trite bit uncomfortable as a result. Over the course of a few silent seconds, her slender eye brows began to curve upward over the top of her nose while her lips crinkled together at every point of collision. She was baffled beyond all reason and yet no less frightened than as she was earlier this day. This clutter of feelings that possessed her did not run unnoticed by Kyle, recognizing the uneasiness in her eyes and subsequently finding her understanding of his words to be indiscernible. Her head twitched suddenly to the right, touching her eyes upon the two boys whom kept their eyes unwavering upon her, their oddness soon joined by a much more conforming and understanding Drew, coming to a stance right behind her son. A long delayed blink was soon followed by rapid fluttering, the intensity at which the eye lashes batted increasing as her head came to face the ends of her knees and sway waywardly from side to side, completely engulfed in distress as shown in her equally sped up breaths that almost like gulps by a frog.

"What's wrong Megan?" Drew clasped her hands upon Purcell's shoulders before lowering her back slightly so that her concerned eyes could hope to catch a glimpse of the young woman's knelt face.

"Their minds," Megan's head shot up, first holding her gaze in the direction of a very intrigued Kyle before sharply switching over to Deryck whom was now even more bemused than he had been a moment before, "they're not here. I can't feel them." A shuddering breath shook its way throughout her body as her vision became glazed over, open and focused straight though not looking at anything in particular, "why?" a simple hushed word, a question more hoping for than expecting to be answered.

"We recently linked our minds with a powerful telepath, that friend of ours," Kyle eyebrows bounced as he briefly glanced over to Drew. He reached up a hand to his chin as he reassumed the standing stare off with Megan, snuggling the thumb beneath so that that curving clump of fingers could round out that circular bubble of the front, "het set up telepathic blocks within our minds. It might just be that he's still holding onto us."

Deryck hissed, "he's still in our heads?" the scorn filled question caught Kyle off guard, abruptly turning his attention towards the boy to watch his hands wave out to his sides, shoulder's shrugging in disapproval with the wavering of his head in a similar vein of disgust, "it's been like what? Five days?"

"Calm down Deryck," Kyle bluntly hushed him with an outstretched palm.

"He's surfing through our heads," the harsh tone in Deryck's voice stepped down several notches but still proved reluctant to leave the strains of disbelief that came with the notion of someone, an alien entity, being in his mind for little under a week, "I don't exactly want to be sharing my every waking moment with someone I barely know…I'm not exactly the embodiment of good that you are."

"Deryck," Kyle suddenly became stern, hands clamping down to his sides. He stared at the boy for a few strong silent standing seconds, the downward hold he had on him being enough to convince him to rescind from his defiant attitude, "besides, I don't think you have to worry about that anyway…."

Before Deryck could even react to Kyle's statements, Drew chimed in, "what is this all about?" a bursting question that that left the young hero flat and completely startled the older.

"Oh sorry Drew," Kyle clasped a thumb and nearest finger to the top of his nose, wincing with the closer of his eyes, "do you remember the news report about the lunar solar powers [Iota #8-9]?" he revealed his face with the sudden drop of his hand, a look to her with a plea of acceptable knowledge.

"That had to do with us," Deryck coldly blurted with a continuing shrug in attitude.

"The unplanned efficiency test was a cover story for a threat we faced there," Kyle bolstered himself up into a clear informative tone, "there was an alien…" a strain of voice that could not hold for very long since that describing word, that one at the end, he believed to be mildly offensive and thus sought to discreetly slur it out of all recognisability with the gnashing of his teeth but already felt the effects of an audience whom knew full well what he said. With eyes closed, he drew a breath that took his chin from the touch of his chest to the air, "there was a Martian hive on the moon," he returned to the kind normalcy of his informative drawl, a slight smile forming in a mad attempt to show some pleasantry, "they were stripping the energy charges of the lunar panels to suit their needs. They're very powerful telepaths hence the protection we needed to fight against them.

Megan tilted her head away from the group and whispered a single word: "Martians?"

"And the Justice League's satellite?" Drew propped up an eyebrow, "was that…?" she narrowed her gaze upon the top of Deryck's head.

"Uh, no," Kyle pulled a fist of to his chest, a light tap with the clearing of his throat, "that was all me. Despite what most news agencies would like you to believe, the 'whole' destroying most of the coast with impact, well, the risk…it was all very necessary," his teeth became exposed with the widening of his grin, a nodding plea to trust and believe, "and we're better off because of it." Within a short span of seconds, the façade of assurance he once so uprightly displayed in its weakest form dwindled into nothingness upon recognizing that those whom he shared the room with had allowed their attentions fall back to back into the sphere of Megan, her beaten and torn face having clued into a particular child with alarming signs of disturbance and impudence upon her face.

"What?" Purcell cried in baffled delight.

"Purcell," Drew gingerly reaffirmed her hands around her son's shoulders; a slight tug inward of bone drawing him to look up to her lowered face, "why don't I go fix you something to eat."

Purcell promptly returned to Megan with a curving scowl, "OK." With a humming moan, he turned around about face with nought but a little prodding from his Mother. Stomping the floor with his white sock bound feet, trudging back into the kitchen space alongside Drew.

"Megan," the amber eyes shot up to Kyle as his voice called her name, "if I called my friend, would you be willing to speak with him," he lurched forward a bit, "if what I understand from what Drew told me to be true, he can help you. I'm certain of it." The amber haired woman briefly turned away from him, looking towards the once crowded area that now appeared more spacious with Deryck standing alone. She let a sigh of relief gush from her lips as she felt the disturbing thoughts and hammered images drift away into unconsciousness; she was in the company of others but for the first time in as long as she could remember, felt nothing of theirs existence outside of what she heard, saw and smelled. With the acquiring of peace, at least in so far as her abilities were concerned, she returned the pierce of her dark eyes to Kyle and nodded once with an expressionless face, "excellent, I'll go ahead do that now." He side stepped towards Deryck, intent on heading into the adjacent kitchen space on the tail end of Drew and Purcell, "please excuse me," he looked to her with one last assuring smirk and nod before moving beyond the thick brown trim of the entrance way, the smoothly shined planks of wood filled out perfectly to each square edge.

"Are you frightened by me?" Megan intertwined her fingers, flattening their crumpled form upon her lap as she delicately leaned forward, sombre filled eyes finding themselves fixed upon Deryck.

"Should I be?" Deryck crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to let his eyelids blink as he straightened his legs up, hoping to attain an intimidating stature that would come with a towering image but then unexpectedly, the strange girl in his eyes dove away from his glare, her head falling away in defeat. He silently sighed with the drop of his tightly clenched arms, realizing his detrimental mistake, "I'm sorry," he apologized in hushed whisper before finding some bearing on his casual voice, "For most of my life I've been running around with what a lot of people told me were lofty goals but I was more than willing to take on the challenge to prove them wrong. I could never let a thing like fear hold me down. I'm fearless." With such a confident conclusion to his character, Megan found herself able to return her eyes to him, the amber hues picking up in their cool flames, "I'm supposed to be fearless." The bold backing to his previous though similarly worded statement fell apart with the second take, the three words in between being enough to dispel any generous notions that first and last held when spoken together. He shyly stepped towards the single person couch, poised to make a comfortable sitting within its cushioning.

Megan watched as Deryck nestled into his seat, letting his backside become engrossed in the soft cushioning, "supposed to?"

"Yeah," Deryck padded his palms over the tops of his knees with a popping snap. He kept his gaze straight ahead a burst of air filtered into his nostrils, boiling out like steam, "I'm supposed to be a hero. A superhero…oh," he pulled his back away from the couch with a crackling noise when the leather like cover sought to return to its natural stretch. He tossed a set of fingers through his dark hair, displacing the value of its clean straightness, "I just went…" he looked over to Megan, drop hair trimming hand beginning to curl together with the other in his lap, "a circle of supposes…look, I'm sorry about that," he raised up his outside arm, the clumped fingers of his hand forcing the thumb out at the top so as to point back towards the space he formerly stood alongside the others, "I've just really gotten into this whole role that I'm doing and as of recent, I've just…I'm starting to like it. I guess in that moment," he shook his head as he looked away from her briefly, "I've forgotten who I'm supposed to be when I'm not picking fights with someone threatening," his head fell back onto the top of the couch as he let out a disgruntled sigh, "I won't say that again," he shot right back up with a finger ready to point in Megan's direction.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Megan reached out for the ending armrest on her right side, clutching each fingers on the outside ledge and pulling herself in accordingly from the centre cushion, coming in closely to the edge before leaning in towards Deryck with her off putting stare.

Deryck's extended index finger slowly crinkled back into his palm, his seated stature beginning to slump down as he withdrew into himself, hunching over his bundled arms that sunk into the crevice between his thighs, "I don't know," he shied away from her, blankly staring ahead of himself with a grim facial expression, "everything in my life changed so quickly. I don't think I want to be Deryck, not like the way I used to be. Not when I can be using this power to help others, not like before," he gulped, "where I was selfish and inconsiderate. No one wanted me. Who would want someone like that?"

Megan pulled herself back, "It's been a long time since I've talked to someone without knowing all there is to know about them," she took in a heavy gulp while the sides of her fists smashed together and held up their combined form underneath her jaw line, the hard central joint of the fingers connecting to the bone of her chin, "I'm always lost in within their…" she took in a deep breath, "I can't hear myself through their thoughts, their feelings, these voices they have when they think no one can hear them," Deryck's head suddenly piqued up, "I don't even know who I really am anymore…it's all been erased. Replaced with memories I've been forced against my own will to take. I'm wholly convinced that when I was a five year old boy that I had a favourite red toy truck that I lost in a sewage grating on a rainy day," she haphazardly attempted to smile but fumbled to get her lips unclenched when she felt the moisture pockets form beneath her eyes, "I'm Megan Morse…but that's just a name. I don't know who I'm supposed to be either."

"You can't stop it?" Deryck winced as he looked to her.

"No," Megan groaned, "It's always been a part of me. I'm not sure if there's anything that I can do," she shook her head, "every moment I'm taking in the lost thoughts of those around me. They're all telling me who I should be, even Drew. I know that she means well but I also know the truth, what she fights against in the battlefield of her mind every time I meet her. What she doesn't want me to know…but I know it already before she's even able to put it into words she understands."

"I think I know what you mean," Deryck nodded.

"Do you?" Megan suddenly shot a hand in Deryck's direction, the cold clasp of her palm touching the side of his face, the ends of her soft fingers gently caressing his temple while the bulk of her palm lay against the side of his cheek. It was cold against the heat of his skin but of a very pleasant kind that hastily eclipsed his stunted surprise, "she can't take care of me. She doesn't want to take the risk that they'll find me in her home, that her son could be hurt because of my presence here."

"Who's after you?" Deryck's eyes widened as he let the shocked pressure of his breaths returned to a state of normalcy, fully accepting of her silky smooth hand and tight visual lock.

"Are you pure of these thoughts? Are you the hero you believe yourself to be?" Megan questions were clear in annunciation but it was not as though she expected him to answer in any standard verbal form, just simply keep the strength of their intertwined lines of vision. When the tension of this stare peaked, Deryck collapsed into shallow breaths while she ceased her prodding intent and spoke diligently of her true feelings, a soothing tone to help ease him down, "I know not of who you are young hero but from what you have told me today, your openness with a mind so fragile as mine, I believe you are pure of any doubt or fear even if you yourself don't believe it to be so." Heavy footsteps appeared off to Deryck's side, his mind instinctively connecting them to his mentor Kyle. A lighter set soon entered also, signalling the arrival of Drew. Both her and Kyle were understandably confused by the state in which they saw Megan interacting with Deryck, his face firmly in her palm, but rather than flee her touch she looked up to both of them with an assuring expression, the permanent petrifying state that Drew believed her to be in having subsided, "I would like to stay with the two heroes. They'll protect me."

* * *

"Megan?" Kyle called out to Deryck the moment he heard the final thump of boy's step, soundly landing on the main floor of their shared townhouse. There was a bit of a hop to the boy's steps as he crossed through the wide entrance way into the living room from the central hallway, his heavy footed dash down the flight of stairs and subsequent sharp turn inwards to get in leaving little time or space for regaining the feel of a flat plain beneath his feet.

"She's getting comfortable in the spare room you set up," Deryck casually raised a hand over his shoulder, thumb pointing back towards the hallway in behind. The fronts of his feet scraped against the ground several times before his heels finally landed into a stationary position just a few strides back of Kyle whom held the centre of the room with arms firmly entrenched upon his waist.

"Which one is that?" Kyle questioned with a slightly raised brow.

"I don't know," Deryck let out a heavy breath with a little swaying of his head, "the second floor one?" The lone box like chair of the room was up against the wall behind Kyle, its puke flavoured colouration standing out considerably well against the standard splashing hue of green that dominated the surrounding walls. The four stunted foot tall dark wood pegs that kept it upright were no exception either, the floor with which they connected in solid stance being noticeably fleshed over of its wood tonal value, a myriad of darker lines and curving knots all throughout the tightly packed boards that glistened nominally greater than the deadness of the pegs. Kyle nodded approvingly of Deryck's answers as he slowly brought his arms up to his stomach where they began to cross over.

"Not that I don't mind the new company, but how long do you think she'll be staying here?" Deryck picked up onto a thought he no doubt was believed was shared with Kyle. The general form of the room was rather poor. Laced within the walls and floor boards were a series of black rubber streaks and thumb print sized gash marks, all of which caused by the shuffling of boots, blunt weaponry and the occasional discharged of an electrical based firearm respectively. There was a fight here some time ago [Iota #6-7] and neither Kyle nor Deryck found much urgency in making repairs considering they rarely had the company of friends or strangers to protect and the front wall sized window was heavily tinted, cascading the outside world, the pleasantly quiet neighbourhood, in a sheen of filtered purple.

"Not sure, how can we be?" Kyle slickly responded in a rhetorical question, "as far as I'm concerned, she can stay here as long as is needed. Drew was genuinely concerned for her safety. She's been roughed up pretty hard by…" his head wobbled in despair, "whoever these people are that want her." he nodded, returning to his solid foundation of thinking; "if she's as strong a telepath as Drew believes her to than there is a long line of people who would like to get their hands on her."

"Well, what about the Martian? He could just tap into her mind, figure out who's after her, and we can have this all taken care of in a night," Deryck hurriedly proposed.

Kyle took in a huge gulp of air and took his time in expulsing the full load as he looked away to the tinted window at the front of the room. His hands lifelessly dropped from their bundled position before he returned his attention to Deryck, "something's not right."

"What?" Deryck popped up a brow.

"I've attempted to contact the Martian on all his open frequencies and some of his more private lines that few people know about," Kyle contended with a hand crossing over the side of his head, disrupting the flow of an invasive itch, "the best I've gotten so far is that he's disappeared. Thunder found the central computer hub empty when I first got into contact with her; she has no record of him leaving the station." With a short mental command made to his ring, his body almost instantly became engrossed in the glossy shine of the Lantern's energy, a much lighter tone of colour than the usual standard shade present in the uniform, sparkling smoothly throughout each integer of his body. This sheen of energy held its grasp of his body for no more than a second before revealing him in his costume: complete full body black suits, wrist and forearm conforming green gauntlets and matching shin high boots, shoulder patches that leaned inward of his neck and engulfed the top portion of his chest with a slight point aimed to his stomach, and the mask, a strip of green that made his eyes appear a murky green. At the centre of his chest, within a spacious circle of clean white, was the Green Lantern's logo, a hollowed out circle of green with two straight lines, one running horizontal along the top and the other likewise at the bottom. "The Martian's missing," Kyle concluded.

"Wait, missing?" Deryck rose up both hands in the familiar stopping gesture, "maybe he's just gone on vacation. Doesn't he have a quiet place to go? I mean we probably just fought and defeated what may very well have been his only family. Right?"

"The White Martian's escaped," Kyle sharply contended, "someone on the station, probably one of them who were awake, managed to get them teleported to somewhere down on Earth. He's kept the telepathic block up for us, so I imagine that it has got something to do with them. If they've captured him then we could be in serious trouble which is why I have to find him."

"You're leaving?" Deryck questioned in disbelief, "maybe I should come along?"

Kyle smirked, "aren't you forgetting someone?" he raised up a hand to point towards the second floor, pin pointing to the room he presumed to be occupied at the current moment, "I think she's taken a liking to you. It would be imprudent of us to forget our commitments on the first day," his hand hurriedly retracted with a slap against his waist side.

"Taking care of someone," Deryck scoffed, "that's boring."

"Deryck," Kyle dropped a hand upon Deryck's shoulder, "being a hero is not always going to about the actions and winning over the hearts of the people, sometimes there's just going to be work that requires you to use a really big shovel…" he paused with a breath, "for lack of a better phrase, you can't have your cake and eat it too."

"I've never understood what that phrase meant," Deryck slumped.

"Yeah, well," Kyle shrugged, tossing his arms out to his sides with a tooth filled grin, "maybe you can think about it while I'm gone." he triumphantly took to a march towards the central hallway, "in the meantime, see what you can learn about Megan's assailants, what exactly they desire from her. We'll talk about it in the morning," he turned his chin to a shoulder, looking back to the boy, "Now if you'll excuse me," he grinned, "I've got to find me some aliens…." he mixed in a groan with a grunt as his head hunched over, "some Martians to punch."

* * *

Deryck clutched his left hand around circular brass knob of the heavy oak wood door that led into the guest room. Each finger was slightly spaced from one another and poised to rotate it as was needed to unlock the simple latch that kept it solid in the frame but as he hovered in his shoulder close to the door he felt there to be great amount of hesitation in getting them to move as his brain commanded, "Megan?" he called out her name in a modestly silent tone following a series of light hearted knocks, his clenched knuckles merely grazing into a drag, the last of which slipped down to stomach level before dropping off.

"Deryck?" Megan's voice echoed the questioning of names.

"I was wondering if you could, well, I don't really know," Deryck straightened up his back but kept his head hanging lowly, knowing full well of the personal nature to the question he sought to ask, "tell me…."

"I can't…I don't know what you're trying to say," Megan seemed to sob through a corrupted hush.

"Yeah," Deryck responded under his breath.

"Please. You can come in," Megan pleaded.

A bellowing click clarified that the door's internal latch had rescinded from its snug position within the hollowed out grove of the doorframe. The sound triggered an instant reaction in his feet, calling them to trudge forward with his shoulder fully flattened against the face of the door, pushing with enough force to make the multiple hinges along its side swing inward of the room. The guest room was rectangular in orientation, naturally so as its walls constituted as being the outside front, back, and side walls of the townhouse also, its inner wall running the full stretch of the central hallway. It was large and unimaginably clean, its ivory white tight coiled carpet not having a single speck of dirt in sight while its walls showcased the exuberant green that filled the entirety of the townhouse.

With one step inside, he immediately turned inward of the door swing so that he could cast his eyes upon the only furnishing present throughout this spacious place: a bed. In this regard the room was generally consistent to that of his on the floor above, a single person four wheel supported bed with an astronaut quality mattress sitting atop a more robust spring loaded box, its broadside smashed up against the back wall. A thick over coating blanket of a similar shade to the walls decked the top mattress, its sides just an inch out of reach of touching the floor. "Megan," Deryck stepped to the centre of the room, keeping his eyes transfixed upon the young woman sitting on the bed, her knees arched in the airs with body leaning forward so that her arms could cross around her shins. She appeared calm and collective; her fiery hair even appearing to have subsided in its majestic flaming quality with the oncoming of a darker time of day; opting to keep the lighting fixture of the room off, the only aid to their vision within came from the window at the front of the room. "How are you doing?" he attempted to sound concerned, catching onto the rounded edges of her eyes and half pleading with a jittering shake that she would be kind to invite him over with no foul.

"I'm," Megan abruptly dropped her chin to her chest, taking in a gulp of air in the process, "good," she suddenly shot back up, "does that satisfy you?"

Deryck hummed in puzzlement, "what?"

"Does my response satisfy you?" Megan enunciated a strong ending tip upon each word, almost as though they were each their own sentence.

"Did you mean it?" Deryck continued in his bafflement.

"Yes," Megan nodded, "I did."

"Well, then," Deryck nodded along with her while fumbling through his words, tossing out his arms with the shrugging of his shoulders, "then yes. Yes it does satisfy me…"

"I must apologize to you Deryck," Megan outstretched her legs, letting the bend of her knees take her feet to the floor, "I'm not used to talking to people that I'm not able to read…I know I hated not being able to control it," she shied away from him, "but I must admit now that I'm finding it more difficult to converse with someone I don't know as intimately as I'm used to," she wobbled her head back up catching the non-complacent view upon Deryck's face, "when I try to explain what I can't control to someone, they become frightened of me…because I know all their deepest thoughts. Their secrets," she sighed in relief as he leaned forward, caressing the edge of the bed line causing it to collapse a bit under her weight, "is it comforting to know that I can't invade your privacy? Are you relieved?"

Deryck reached his palms into his closed eyes, clenching down and groaning as he turned away from her, "I don't know," he chucked his hands away the moment he snapped, "that's all just normal for me," he sharply looked back to Megan, finding her to be quite shocked by his outburst, cowering back towards the wall with eyes widening and lips beginning to tremble. It was the kind of face that instantly shook him into reservation, instantly becoming calm, "there are others ways you can get to know someone."

"Like how?" Megan's eyes fluttered as she pounced off from the back wall.

"Well, um," Deryck tossed up a fist to his chest, thumbing the flattened side of his thumb as he looked down to the floor in a habitual act of contemplation, "well how did you figure all that stuff about me, you know, back at Drew's place?" he casually glanced back up at her.

"That's what heroes are like. Pure of thought, noble beings with great power," Megan overcame the trembling shake of her lips to become more confident in her speech, "in all those that I have encountered I've come to conclude that people would act differently in the event that their deepest personal thoughts became known to those around them…" she sighed, "though sometimes I imagine that I live in a society where everyone shares in each other's thoughts. It's peaceful and wondrous," without warning, she nosedived into a sombre state, "but, this world that we live in, the people here, they would tear one another a part till there was no one left. Still, I think we'd all be better off with someone listening in on our every thought, our every desire," she piqued up with an affirming nod, "it would keep us honest, don't you think?"

"I don't know, I can't say that it would work," Deryck let his mind wander within itself, affording it time to collect and organize memories into a cohesive picture that he could understand. He had not paid it much attention since he believed himself to have transcended to the role of super hero but he was never alone to himself, there was something within him that far outweighed the notion of an upstanding conscience that heroes were said to possess. He was being 'watched' as Megan had conceived it to be and he had become used to it. "To be honest," he turned away to face the window, "I'm sort of new to the whole thing. Noble beings with great power…that just doesn't mean anything to me, it's just something I've been told. Up until this past week, well," he gulped, "I think I could very well have turned on being noble and just take the great power for myself," he took a few steps towards the clear pristine window, dragging the ends of his toes with every stride, "I could do without the responsibility, the honesty that's required of me."

"What about Kyle though? Your mentor?" Megan cobbled herself forward once more to the edge of the bed, "doesn't he mean something to you? Do you not respect his opinion and his teachings?"

"Heh," Deryck chuckled loosely, "I've tried to get out of here before," he sighed as he arched his head back to look at Megan with an awkward grin, "when we first met, well, he was more like a parole officer inflicted with drill sergeant syndrome than a trainer or whatever you want to call him. I didn't choose to be under his care, it just sort of happened that way and there was nothing I could have done about it. He didn't want me, especially not after what he figured I had been doing much of my life beforehand."

"What is it that you did?" Megan questioned out of curiosity.

"I was a petty thief," Deryck's grin became haphazard, "anything that could get me filled for a while, I'd do all that I could to get it," he blinked sporadically as his head began to kneel, "I've done some other things I'm not too proud of now, but most of the time, it was do or die. If I hadn't been doing the stuff, well, maybe I've just created the circumstances that led me to do those kinds of things," He shook his head in despair, "I'm not a good person Megan. I know I'm supposed to be a super hero but if I go off your conception of what a hero is, well, I don't think I'd match up to well."

"But you had ambitions for good, right?"

Deryck abruptly turned away, returning his gaze to the window, its foggy texture showing through as the outdoor display provided, "I had ambition, but it wasn't always honest or entirely positive. The people I got a long with, we all grew up with the teachings of this guy, Lex Luthor. I never met the man, but I was always a keen admirer. Like me, he started out with nothing going for him, but shaped all that he could get his hands on into an empire only to have it all snuffed out by some alien. He was sort of this mythic hero to us and it was just some cape from another planet who wanted it all from him…."

"You sound disturbed by this," Megan winced as she cupped her hands tightly to her chest.

"Luthor always spoke about the aliens from other worlds. He would say that very decade, every year, every month, they were plotting together to invade what we held most dear; our planet. They wanted nothing more than to start wars that would see our destruction," Deryck stepped all the way towards the window, placing his hands gently along its bottom line, "they would come here, assimilate into our culture, try to be us, but they weren't. They were going to take away everything from us, the natives of this world, and our government, the heroes; they were just going to allow it to happen." He pushed himself up right with a stern breath, "I decided early on that I wasn't going to allow that. I thought Luthor was right, Earth belonged to the humans and humans alone ruled it."

"Your opinion on this has changed hasn't it?"

Deryck sniffed, "I've met some people…some good people. I realized that it all wasn't as galacticly threatening as I believe it to be. They were all just as disorganized as we were, with their own wars, wrapped up in endless conflicts," he raised his chin up to look to the cloud drenched skies, "and these people, they had nowhere to go. No place that they felt safe in. War had taken everything away from them," he shook his head disapprovingly, "I just didn't understand. I didn't want to."

"Is there someone watching you now Deryck?"

Deryck slid his right foot back, bracing himself up against the windowsill with his head lowly hanging. Silence engulfed the room for several seconds before he worked up the decision to move on, "look at those clouds," his head suddenly shot up, "it's going to be a dark knight."

"There's something special about them," Megan asserted, understanding the changing tone of the conversation, "I can't stop thinking about them…I don't know why. There's just something interesting, no, important about the clouds, and I'm just can't remember why."

"Well, we can't be worried about everything. Then we'll never sleep. Perhaps it's time to get some rest," Deryck promptly turned away from the window, feet already making motions towards the door but paused halfway there, "it was kind of nice talking to a stranger," he weakly smiled as he looked over to Megan, "thank you," he nodded in conclusion.

"Deryck," Megan attempted to pull him back, "wasn't there something you wanted to ask me?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Deryck's feet came together as a hand reached up for his chin, "Kyle and I wanted to get some information about the people…" he stuttered to get through, uncertain of what words to use, "we wanted to know more about the people who are after you."

"I don't know anything about them," Megan shook her head.

Deryck's brow rose up as high as it could in confusion, the sincerity in Megan's voice being certainly off putting, "what? Haven't you tapped their minds at all?"

"I don't know what it is," Megan's head swaying came to a pause, "but I am unable to read them in the way that I do with others, it's why I have so much difficulty in recognizing them. They can change themselves, appearance, everything," she paused for a few moments, collecting her thoughts, "they all communicate telepathically, but it's just…It's different…"

"Alright," Deryck nodded, "let's just pick this up in the morning, I'm sort of all processed out at the moment," he continued on his path towards the door but was startled when Megan spoke up once more.

"You know Deryck, sometimes in these memories of mine I believe that when I was younger I was also a hero much like you. I was also a part of a team of other likeminded people…In my time as one of them I had made more friends than enemies. We were like a family."

* * *

"Please talk to me." Deryck had locked himself down in the lone chair of the living room, his arms outstretched over the meagre padding of the armrests with fingers just wishing to clutch the front face for some physical support but fell victim to an ever increasing sense of numbness. He was uncertain as to whether or not he was alone at this time. The Lantern's ring he wore was something of an anomaly amongst its kind having become consciously aware of its own existence and thus possessing a unique personality that was intended to work in tandem with its wielder, making whomever that person was to be more powerful than those Lantern's whom relied upon the auspices of the emotionless computer variant of the current model. Needless to say, the morality so inherent to the ring, as instructed by the Guardians of the Universe, rarely met terms with the ideologies Deryck espoused in his actions but within their time fused together they appeared to grow more supportive of one another, the ring becoming more sceptical of what the Guardian's desired and Deryck even admitting to himself that not all doctrines of the Corp were especially disavowing of his way of living. They were inseparable now and if they were to be called a single entity in this sense then they would still not be alone. There was another form of consciousness lingering around the deep recesses of his mind.

At the centre of the darkly shaded room, directly ahead of him, the Lantern particles that spilled from his ring worked to create a fully humanoid figure. Hands, arms, legs, torso, neck, head, they all had shape and form but were in severe lacking of intimate details, those unique bits and pieces that made this person whom she was. The collection of body parts was so empty, so lifeless that it nearly brought its maker to tears. "Please talk to me," Deryck pleaded once more in a brushing whimper of a voice, "Kindred Emma…I need to talk to you." No matter how hard he tried to fill his figure with the features he so desired, the more his memory of her became disoriented, finding himself unable to focus on those lively qualities he had so admired when they met. "I'm sorry, I really am," the fingers of his ring hand clenched tightly around the end of the armrest, overcoming shard like tingles of pain that fluctuated through the engrossing numbness, "you're right. I can't keep you here forever…"the regulations of his breaths verged upon panting as his head leered away from the backrest of the chair, "you've kept me honest for all this time, I don't know what I'd do without you," a hushed tone encompassed his voice, "I'm not ready…to give you up yet. This is why you came to me wasn't it?"

A riveting shock of pain crawled up his spine, pulling along with all that he felt below. His mouth solidly shut tooth to tooth as he struggled relentlessly with all strength available to get himself free of the chair. With a heavy grunt he pulled his shoulders forward as far he could muster with the rising outstretch of his back. His head however, could not reach the top of the chair's backrest no matter how hard he tried to strain his back upwards and the bulbs at the ends of his shoulders were the only parts that managed to make any distance, the line of his backside parallel to his shoulder blade still holding its attachment to the chair's backrest. He soon realized that it was of no use for him to struggle; he was simply locked in his chair.

Upon the subsiding of his struggling effort, a relieving touch of coldness exploded from the core of his body, spreading its deathly temperature throughout his form with a stinging sensation. He was suddenly relaxed of all the tension wound up his muscles tight, all pain of a physical strain had left him in a cooling instant but the emotional intake had gathered the moment his eyes had gathered their focus upon his figure at the centre of the room. He horrified by what he saw, the magical wisps of energy fluttering out along the shoulder line of the figure, "no," each particle danced about him in their circular motions, cobbling together in the air above for only a few moments before dissipating into the nothingness of space, "no, don't leave me…" he sobbed. A second strike of pain hit throughout his body, one more powerful than the one before, his eyes forced shut through the course of it all. When the pressure had left his imploding form, he was awoken to that reality that was.

He was certainly alone now in the darkness of the room and sweating all over, each breath causing the perspiration to slip down his skin in all direction aimed under the force of gravity. His clothes, already drenched in most regions, failed to stop any of the passing fluids; he had been like this for a while, could he have been dreaming? Quite thankfully, the motor reflexes of his body had been returned to him, and with that heated feeling coursing through his legs, he thought to stand up and calm himself properly. A firm hand rose to the top of his head, the subsequent pat down shaking out his dazed senses into normalcy; he was awake and feeling as sick as he could ever possibly be. "Megan?" he cried out upon realizing what had pulled him from his slumber: a scream.

Within seconds the ring spread its illustrious energies across the youth's body, formulating beneath its hold the costume of Iota: hard edged green gloves and boots, a shoulder line of green, an angular edged mask piece, and the point inverted white triangles at the centre of his chest, his personal emblem. He already taken into a mad dash towards the stairwell by the time the ring had fully covered him, the costume materializing in mid stride, coming to completion the moment his foot touched inside the central hallway's space. Each pressing step upwards saw up to two wood panelled steps skipped in between; he was nearly flying by the time he came to the second floor. At the top he abruptly turned to his left side to get into the hallway space at the stairwell's side. Squared beams of finely cut and varnished wood made up the straight rail that ran alongside the hallway, its rounded top line being just as a smoothly shined as those beams that supported it. It was a part of a chain of interconnected rail sides, the first and starting section being that of the first floor stairwell he had just run up, curving a half circle at the top to flow into this notable section which at the opposing end turned once more just as sharply to form alongside the stairwell that took one from the second floor to the third and so on again to the top fourth floor. The start of the second floor stairwell was not the only thing at the end of the metres long rail section, the guest room door was snugly emplaced in the wall just three steps short of the corner.

"Megan?" Iota shouted her name once more as he came to a stop just outside the guest room door but before his hand could even reach for the handle with a turn a deafening crack of wood and other building materials carried him backwards and away from it, the heavy oak door having been cleanly ripped off of the support of its hinges and catapulted towards the young hero with enough force to cause the wall behind him to collapse halfway through with the impact of his body. He coughed and moaned as he fell to his knees. His lower back had left quite the impression in the wall, a sizable hole that reeked of chalk white dust and ripped shreds of paper coloured green as it fit in with the overall paint job of the wall. The fallen door was certainly in better shape, though not by much, the connection of the joints having successfully chewed sizable chunks from their once stalwart positions while an indentation of his fist could be made out near to its centre. "What was that?" he stomped both hands upon the side of the door, hoping to afforded himself some time to recollect his energies before getting back onto his feet. He let his head wander upwards, open though weary eyes seeking for an answer as to what had crossed him with a bone breaking hit but what he had come to see first placed him in a detrimental position. In a flash of a paling grey white, a snake like tail as thick as his body in the upper coiled sections broke out from the darkness of the room that contained it, passing through the empty door frame with its lingering pointed end poised to take Iota by the neck and throttle him.

Iota's reaction time was rather slow in dealing with the imminent threat, his ring hand coming to rise only moments after the coiling mess of slicked scales had engulfed his neck and steadily built upon its tightening hold, but despite its best efforts, his emerald shield held through its thickening death grip. The opposing end of the tail, the upper body, was fast approaching him, now easily discerning arm like appendages, a broad chest line of great musculature and a head that could only be described as dragon like to the tooth. A multitude of emerald hued bats with wingspans over a foot wide burst from the circular top of Iota's ring, each one taking into a speedy flight towards the beast with flesh shredding teeth wide and willing to tear apart his oncoming attacker. The cyclone of bats circled around it, the first of many clipping its shoulder resulting in the most stifling snarl of pain that Iota had ever heard. The beast's arms hurriedly went to work upon the small creatures, punching and flapping away as it continued to draw closer towards him, ploughing through the door frame line. Several bats at a time found themselves crushed under the mighty swings, their already weak willed compositions dwindling into air as they sputtered for the ground, broken and deformed. This defence was not shaping up in the way the young Lantern had hoped.

This attacking beast held a great deal of familiarity with a foe recently faced. The top of its cranium was shaped like a diamond in correlation with its chin, the ear sides and top being wide brimming sharp pointed peaks of scale covered stretched skin, a sight very akin to a cobra. Its eyes were lean and steady, angled inward of a region absent of a nose not that their hellish red hue had not already convinced the hero of its insatiable anger. The teeth that crowded around its elongated jaw were well over an inch length and sharpened to points imagined as being capable of puncturing steel, a feature most probably matched in the three thick prong fingers whose crescent shape that applied a claw like definition. "What have you done with her?" Iota furiously questioned the monstrous entity as it smashed him back against the wall only a little higher than the hole he had created on the first run in, "where is she?" he continued to reiterated his appeal for an answer despite its crushing hold on him, its long forearm coming to rest upon the tight coils that had surrounded his throat, leaning in to meet him face to face. The beast only growled through its teeth, a bellowing sound so disturbing that it left a lingering ring in his ears several seconds afterwards. "Fine!" He swiftly rose up each leg, stabbing the soles of his boots into the creature's abdomen with an explosive burst of energy soon following, inflicting enough harm to make it drop its tightly coiled hold over his body drop with a shattering scream of wrenching agony. It quickly roamed up into the air, head lowering under the flatness of ceiling while hands clutched for the black burning stain that enveloped the scales that covered its stomach. Its long spindly tail began to awkwardly coil on the floor like a spring, the ending tip tapping the floor compulsively as a reverberating swaying shake crawled up its body.

Eight large marble sized balls of hard jade formed in Iota's palm, cackling manically as they crashed into one another with the clenching of his fingers inward. They were all interconnected by a thin cord that held them within a full circle, the bulk of them slipping out from his cupping hold when he nabbed one of them with the tight touch of his thumb and two closest fingers thus leaving them hanging below his hand about a foot and a half like a pearl necklace. He took a strong step forward and chucked away the chain of balls from his hand like a baseball pitcher, fired towards the centre of the beast's chest with his mental control over its movements taking it well beyond the speed of what his natural arm strength could. The weight of multiple balls forced the chain to haphazardly spiral around like a tossed disc several times in the air before abruptly exploding a foot before collision with its target. Thick bundles of twine blistered out from the fading solid form of the balls, the thing cords that connected them being given a greater amount of slack that enabled the formation of a spider web like shape large enough to entice the beast; it was a net with inch sided empty space squares in between the crossing of each line.

Iota kept his arm aimed up towards the monstrous entity, the palm of his hand remaining open until the spiralling emerald net collided with it at which point his fingers suddenly closed inward, the command given for the beast to become ensnared in his power. The net circled around the entirety of the beast's upper body, completely connecting and becoming whole on its backside. Its arms were tightly bound across its chest, each claw like finger forced to jab into the thick shoulder muscle just above the shoulder blade. It growled and snarled just as it had done before though heavily fitted to a moan of despair, all that was within its strength being devoted to the breaking of the net: arms bent outward from its chest with all that they could while its mouth went to work on tearing up the twine with its razor sharp teeth.

Its determination was impeccable; the relentless effort to get free forcing the young Lantern to bend his knees under the pressuring strain of energy. He gritted his teeth with a grovelling grunt while a cold strain of sweat began to drip from his brow. Though the force behind his willpower was about ready to collapse from under him, his net held out and the dragon, realizing its failure, appeared to have given up on its dishevelling struggle. "Huh?" the sense of relief that came with his victory quickly faded away into confusion when he saw his net lifelessly sink to the ground, the beast it formerly held having become apparition like, visible yet completely intangible to all things solid. "Wish I could do that," his head tilted to a shoulder as he watched his enemy silently stare at him before turning its focus to the front wall which it promptly floated through, slipping through seamlessly without a single snag, tail twisting and turning as it followed its owner out. "Megan?" he bolted into the room, entering it with a quick turn towards the back where the bed and its coverings laid disturbed yet empty, "Megan?" he muttered under his breath as he looked towards the window, eyes catching onto the white monstrous entity flying through the dark sky of the night. Without a moment's thought, he leapt towards the window, shattering its flat pristine form with a clean smash of his fists. The multitude of sharp edged shards from the crushed window became caught up in his wake, the aura of green that surrounding him having intensified phenomenally when he entered the highest gear of flight within a matter of seconds.

"What have you done with her?" the chalk white beast arched its head back over a hunched shoulder, startled to see the speed at which the young hero had taken in pursuit. He was a vibrant streak of green, cutting through the sky as though he had a long held vendetta against all that it stood for. It would not be long before they would come to blows once more and thus it prepared itself accordingly by swiftly turning around with clawed fingers ready to meet punch for punch and tail twirling around with its whip like tenacity. It continued to make distance between itself and Iota though at an increasingly slower rate than as it was flying face forward, too much astonishment though, the Lantern appeared to have dispelled the notion that he would catch up to it, opting now to construct some kind of tubular hand cannon with the illustrious construction particles provided by his ring. Its eyes widened immensely with the rupture of gaseous smoke from the mouth of the Lantern's waist held barrel, the ferocity of the sound it made leaving those within earshot a numbed sense of feeling. It quickly returned to its flight objective, turning its back to the Lantern only to be met with another surprise; a net had appeared overhead. It was much larger, much thicker than the previous one that had encased it and though it attempted its escaping trick as it had done before it was met with an unexpected challenge, a force of zapping energy that coiled around each section of twine, its nasty effects making it groan in agony, "its electrically charged," the bold Lantern boasted, "just try escaping it."

Iota wrapped his other hand around the wrist of his ring hand. With the ring secured at the forefront of his clenched fist, he shot from its surface a series of thin lined tentacles that hurriedly grasped the meagre plot points at the end of each line of twine that composed the net and quickly worked on pulling backwards; he was reeling the beast in. The beast however still proved unwilling to give in to the hero's demand and in an act of desperation put all of its energy into getting its tail beneath the grasp of the net, twirling it around with such immensity that when it inevitably hit the head of the young Lantern it promptly sent him soaring to the ground, crashing and crumbling in the hard soiled dirt of the plot of land just in front of his townhouse. The net dissipated with the absence of a concentrative force behind it and thus the beast was given leeway to fly free.

* * *

"Deryck?" The calling out of his name woke him up in an instance. At that moment, the memories along with the aches and pains that flowed throughout his body flooded in. He was lying stomach down in a mess of churned of fabricated grass and hard topped dirt that felt more like clay turned concrete, the impact crater his collision from above created being less than an inch in depth. An attempt was made to get up onto his knees at the very least but his right shoulder appeared to be out of place, the planting of his hand proving to be very disastrous as he collapsed right back down, clenching his teeth and bearing his pain in silence. "What happened?" he felt a pull on his left side, kind hands grasping around his arm, prodding him to rise up. A quick glance over to his side revealed it to be Kyle who had come to assist him, the elder Lantern still in his uniform, "where's Megan?"

"They've got her," Deryck grunted as he felt his toes touch the ground, the tight hold Kyle had beginning to loosen as he recognized the crawl towards self-stabilization.

"Who?"

"I don't know," Iota's shoulders drooped significantly upon standing up under his own steam. His eyes likewise followed in line, too tired to keep the liveliness they held throughout the majority of his combat, "It looked like….a Martian."

"Are you sure," Kyle became cold.

Iota shook his head, "I don't know," he reaffirmed. "I failed her."

"Come on Deryck," Kyle tapped the boy's shoulder as he stepped alongside him, "let's get inside before the neighbours start to question what's happened here," he looked out from side to side, seeing the rows of endless similarities, the occasional set of lights having been flicked on.

"Something's happening though. Isn't it?" Deryck steadfastly refused to move his feet, "something big."

"I'm not certain yet," Kyle conferred politely with an uptight whispery tone, "but yes, I think there is."

"Did you find the Martian?"

"I've exhausted every place I can think of," Kyle paused for a moment, the tension soaring, "I don't know what's happened to him," he looked up to the sky, the clouds in their deceptive grey roaming across the sky in hoarding packs, the occasional stream of red filtering through on a bend and curl, a colour so unheard of, so unnatural, "we just have to hope that wherever the White Martians are hiding out, they don't have him."


	36. Interval 9

Interval #9  
Volume 1. Story 7.  
The Rogues of Bludhaven

* * *

Three thuggish figures silently crept into the natural history department of the Desmond University in Bludhaven. "And there it is my reputable colleagues. Is it not exquisite?" the first to have entered this arcane wing spoke eloquently of a discovery made, holding an air of leadership all about himself as he trotted along the black marble flooring with a slight jittering clap to his excited heels. His body was fully covered in a sleek second skin of white save for the tip of his nose down to his chin of which was not necessarily exposed but rather protected by an airtight hard plastic container, a gas mask, heavily tinted from its transparent form to a decisive orange hue. His eyes were protected by a sturdy set of goggles built into the suit itself, noted for their particularly strong black tint almost to the point of being solid. A two and a half foot high pack was strapped onto his back, its top rounding inward of his head to be quite seamless with his shoulder line while the flat bottom was noted for two thick hose like cords that rode out from it. The farthest to his right side wrapped around his waist like a belt and had a series of smaller cords venturing out from its form to run down the centre line of each of his four limbs while the one of the left connected to his left hand where a gauntlet piece was fitted tightly to his wrist like a bracelet. A tubular nozzle piece was fitted to its top side, venturing out some distance from its bulky base to run along the backside of his fingers. The pack itself was a shined orange painted metal with an outward face that shaped vertical rising tube making it appear as some kind of container that filtered its contents down the lines. Of special note was the gun holster; a leather like pouch of finely polished orange that sat on the left side of his chest, the weapon it carried currently unsheathed and in hand. Its handle was surprising simple with very little grip to his siding, feeling more like a baton when held than as it should be while its barrel was just as tubular and considerably long by comparison to the current day pistols. The top piece was noted for its pyramid like top, four individual pieces clanking into one another at a point while firmly held in position at the end of the barrel.

"But Fredrick, what is it?" A bemused figure followed in from behind, shaking his hands upward to touch the sides of his cheeks with floppy fingers. This figure was a tad bit smaller and rounder than the muscular cleansed white figure before him, though eyes would no less pick upon him for the memorable shades of orange and green that clashed across his costume of choice. Despite his robust body characteristics, the green flavoured head piece, shin high boots, and circular clamps that rode up his forearms, appeared to have been sloppily pieced together and hammered in to make them fit. The head piece in particular, which allowed full view of his eyes and nose down to chin line, circled around his shoulders with wide brimming folded flaps that periodically unfurled into a bib over his chest. An inch and a half thick sized belt circled his waist, carrying on each side a holster for shined white pistols most notable for their box like barrels.

"What have I told you?" the figure of white turned backward sharply to confront the cowering boy of dominating orange, "when we're out in the field, you are to call me Heat Zone, just as you are Mad Mirror and Rigel is Tricky."

The third and final figure stepped around Mad Mirror, his costume being even more so garish than his colleagues, like several different costumes had been sewed together and admirably so. His pants were flavoured like a bumble bee, vertically rising lines of the most pristine cuts of black and yellow cloth, while his skin tight shirt was a mixture of purple and orange, horizontally lining up against one another from waist line to neck. He wore a fading purple jacket that properly suited his tall gangly form; the strips of alternating circle and square metal clamps intended to fasten it were left unlatched, the bulk of its curvature around his back thus left to wave outward of and around his sides as he triumphantly marched beyond the line set by Heat Zone. His teal coloured boots were intriguing in design, pixie like wings flowing out from the bubble of his ankles while the coverings itself barely reached the middle line of his shin. His hair was a long flow blonde though cut short along the sides while atop each eye were black palm sized stars. He smiled widely, his perfect rows of teeth really exemplifying the rounded bulge of his chin as he turned to face the Mad Mirror with hands clamping to his sides.

"It's an elephant tusk," Heat Zone returned to his stride forward, on course to encounter his showcasing find.

A single filed series of pedestals about stomach height were enfranchised along the course of the wing. Their material composition was of the finest dark wood, sharp at each corner and unimaginably smooth along their faces. Atop of their flat tops was a size matching box, a cube of glass, which protected within their sides prizes of an earthly value. Precious stones, ancient era hand tools and clothing, were the oft displayed artefact but for those currently standing within the wing's walls the interest was in that of a rarity among body parts belonging to the animal kingdom: an elephant's tusk. The crescent shaped ivory tusk sat upon a transparent two pronged fork stand so that its thicker top nearly would be faced towards the ceiling while its shrivelling pointed end was left to curve towards one of the cage's sides. The wing was dark at this time of night, but it was not without light; strong blue glares from a small bulbs above let their engulfing energies fall upon each individual pedestal, the dust in the air becoming ever so clear in the coloured streams of light but were, as to be expected, ever so absent within the cage itself where the blue seemed replaced by a clarity emitted by the table of white that made the pedestal surface.

"My grandfather assisted in hunting these magnificent tusk filled beasts into extinction, though the species survives through the tuskless male's acquired dominance…quite of a feat of nature. He donated this tusk after his final bout in India. He got to see it all end for the creature…don't you ever wonder what species we'll see disappear in our life time?" He greedily raised his hands to the side of the glass cage, eager to touch it but holding back such eager persuasions.

"Personally," the one named Tricky stepped inward of the side adjacent to Heat Zone and placed a hand to the side of his chest when the smile dropped, "I'm more interested in the creatures I am to discover," his voice was calm yet pompously aware of itself.

"You?" Mad Mirror puzzled the notion.

Tricky nodded to the green headed boy, "that is so," the clasped palm fell from his chest as the smile returned, "I hope to be a fine member in the field of biology someday."

"My Father hopes I will come to this school just as he did and his father before him, this dreary place," Heat Zone fell back from his intense fascination over the artefact, pulling up a hand to his chin as he tossed himself in contemplative thought, "this place hardly presents a challenge for someone such as myself…" he took several steps backwards while shaking out his gun hand to compel his teammate Tricky to do likewise. With a light squeeze of the trigger, the pyramid top at the end of his pistol exploded into an inferno of flames, the sharpest of blood red intertwining with the voluptuous movements of the orange and yellow shades, all of it coming together in a blistering crackle of fire that shot out on a thin stream towards the glass case, skimming along its top where it danced for several seconds beyond the relinquishing of his finger from the trigger.

The three villains were unaware that they had fallen under the watchful eyes of an angelic figure above, hunched over top one of the black steel lined sky windows that sat in the dividing space of each pedestal below. A rare purple colour appeared to be a unifying theme to her heroic presence; her luscious lips, flamboyantly long and curvy hair, and solid unearthly eyes, all possessing a vibrant violet hue that glistened and glowed against the dark clouds of the night sky. Her glossy purple costume scampered to cover her body, being particularly sparse in coverage to some areas while also being excessively full elsewhere. A silver top lined collar held its shape around her neck just a thumb print short of touching her jaw line, the divide it left at the centre of her throat coming to a close with a round violet gem that sat atop bracket of silver that drove around and through her shoulder blade, along the tops of her shoulders and coming full circle on her backside. The rest of her upper body was fully covered save for the insides of her arms which saw only two finger width bands to each side make the connection across, one an inch back of the elbow joint and one an inch afterward. Her forearm was completely wrapped in bracelets that seemingly outclassed that of her necklace in both shine and metal class, being considerably thicker and seemingly bullet proof. The fabric that spaced through the bracelets became solid around her wrists with its completion around the hand coming with triangular pointed flaps caressing both the finger tops and palms with the points connected in the crevice of her index and middle fingers. Sprouting from the silver shoulder riding necklace were flat lying hooked shaped bands that started their curving as close as possible to her shoulders without interference. The full extent of these hooks reached about half way down her torso before their ending points backtracked upwards towards the centre of her chest. Her pants were similar in design to that of her arms, that being the exposure of her knees sides along with single connection straps across before and after her knee but as opposed to the revealing of skin, she took to wearing a silky pair of darker purple beneath. Her belt was similar in design to that of her necklace piece but more triangular in shape downward than the rounded off curve at the centre. Just above the belt and over top of her belly button was another glistening purple gem. Her hair was kept back from her forehead by an 'M' shaped silver piece whose outer lines curved inward with her jaw back towards her ears; a stylized purple star was engraved at its centre. Additionally, she wore a clean white cape that saddled itself upon her left shoulder and curved downward of her thigh. Her skin was a polished orange, verging upon a strain of rare pink, the collective genetic combination of her human-tamaranean parentage which has allowed her to pass amongst the people of planet as a strangely tanned individual rather than an alien foreigner. All in all, her costume was modest, very much unlike that of her mother whose own costume seemed to become lighter on wear with each passing year.

"What do you want with this relic?" Mad Mirror watched as Heat Zone leaned in overtop of the smooth ivory elephant's tusk that was now exposed to the outside world, its glass cage having been melted down into wavy ripples that glowed a lukewarm red along their tops; the cackling heat continuing to disintegrate it down to the wood of the pedestal.

Heat Zone pecked his free hand into the remnants of the cage and lightly tugged on the tusk to get it free of its holding support, "add it back into my family's personal collection of course. My grandfather began to throw his fortune into the wind when he learnt of my father's ambitions to dethrone him…I presume him to have poisoned him at some point, perhaps I too am expected of such."

"This was an easy target," Tricky complained. He clobbered his hands across his chest with a disgruntled slump to his lips, "there aren't many risky ventures to be hand with university security."

"Granted," Heat Zone marvelled at the tusk held in his hand, swaying it around with the turn of his wrist, "but it was just about the excitement of criminality that brought us here. As I understand it, the common person turns to crime so as to better ones position in life."

"What have we got to gain from petty criminality?" Mad Mirror held his shoe in Tricky's notion of disillusionment.

Heat Zone promptly turned his head to orange covered comrade, "what have we?" he took in a deep breath, "what of you?" he scoffed, "your family is considered by our circles to be significantly richer and you yourself are the most intelligent of present company," he returned his gawking eyes to the prize, inspecting the dark lines that looked like browned bruises upon a banana, "why is it that we have allowed you to retain the greatest power of each of us? You are here for the thrill of the endeavour."

"Still," Mad Mirror's shoulders slumped, "I've wanted to do some shooting since we started doing this, it's why I acquired the suit, but all I've done for our gang so far is provided teleportation services from one location to another."

"I know, I know," Heat Zone's voice became fuelled by scorn as he shook his head, "there will be a time when we can focus on your interests, but at current moment I have some strings that I'd like to have tied and it just may be enjoyable for all of us while we're at it."

"What's next on our list," Tricky dropped his arms as he allowed himself to be subjugated to Heat Zone's commands.

"The social gathering three days from now with Elias School," Heat Zone unlatched the holster that was strapped to his chest with a simple fling upwards with his gun, arching the long barrel inward of the hole with a smooth slice, "they're showcasing Christopher Sinise's latest artwork. I'd like to burn it right in front of him. Right in front of everyone," after a few seconds of fumbling around he finally managed to pocket his weapon.

"In public?" Mad Mirror spat in distaste.

"Yes," Heat Zone returned with the taste of scorn once more, "I believe it's about time we showed the world what power we possess and anyway, I hate these social gatherings…and I hate that snivelling artist and his family, he somehow believes has some kind of dignity that prevents him from selling to me. I have to teach him and all those peons just what I'm capable of doing."

"It's kind of risky," Mad Mirror gulped.

"Well then you better keep your pistol ready for a hasty exit," Heat Zone pompously shook his shoulders with a slight raise of his chin, "you'll start feeling it once you get in amongst them, the way they'll cower beneath your presence alone…we'll be far above those whom consider us to be their equals socially."

"I don't know," Tricky clasped the back of his head with a heavy hand, "my girlfriend goes to Elias. She was kind of looking forward to getting together that day."

"Then it's just the kind of challenge you're looking for," Heat Zone pointed a finger towards the garishly dressed teammate, "can Brian commit to separate passions at the same time?" he tilted his head, his eyes no doubt becoming beady behind the thick tint of his goggle pieces, "I don't want to be just a common thief, this," he rose the tusk above his head with an accomplished smirk, "this is symbolic of a victory. The challenged has been given, and we've accomplished it, it's not about the product-" Before he could even hope to complete his sentence, the ceiling window shattered in an explosive ear numbing crunch, bringing for a rainfall of slicked shards which thunderously echoed on the hard marble flooring in the space ahead of the pedestal. At the centre of the impact rose the super heroine Nightstar, rising to her full strength with hands ready to unleash a devastating array of purple flamed star bolts. The three relenting criminals cautiously took steps back, unable to take their eyes off this impeccable display of prowess.

"Then put it back," Nightstar scolded as she stepped towards them, in line with the shrivelling remains of the pedestal, the melting tar of the Heat Zone's flames now working their way into the wood, "and I could very well be nice to each of you."

Heat Zone, overcoming the numbness of surprise, immediately retracted the fire arrow tipped pistol into his hand and with a smirk unleashed its flaming force in the heroine's direction. The powerful punch behind his fuel made its mark against the wooden face of the pedestal, scorching it black for nought but five seconds before causing it to crumble completely to the floor; plenty of time for Nightstar to have already made her move. With a heavy smash of her right foot to the floor, she took into a hefty leap above the pedestal, following through on a curving smash that saw her powered up fist fall upon the poor boy's firing hand. His head fell backward immediately while his mouth opened as wide as it could to cry out in pain, the gun falling to the floor at a near instant. Understanding her limited time, she powered up a starbolt in her palm for half a second before firing it off towards Tricky, promptly dropping him to the floor with a blistering collision to his chest. She turned sharply to catch onto Mad Mirror but by the time she had reach back to make another volley the orange and green clad boy had already pulled up his box ended guns opened fire, smiling sinisterly as he did so.

They were like rays of compacted blue tinged lightning, one after the other, drawn from an intricate series of mirrors that layered the insides of the firearms' barrels. Nightstar was nimble enough in her footing to avoid the first two spattering rays and keen enough to block the third firing with a raised arm, the strong bracelet doing its duty, but the third one clipped her hard to the shoulder and with a shrieking pain ridden grunt of her own, she twisted her back towards her enemy and lost her balance in doing so, falling face first to the floor.

"Get us out of here!" Heat Zone shouted, his crumpled form having long since fallen to his knees so that he could appeal to the pain of his swollen hand. He clambered around for a bit to get a hold of his pistol, finally managing to get a hold and cobble up the strength to stand upright and get behind his laser totting buddy.

Mad Mirror took one last opportunity to fire upon the heroine, the strengthening beam of light finding its way to her lower abdomen causing her spin uncontrollably along the smoothly polished floor on a collision course with Tricky whom, while firstly startled, was able to get back on his feet quick enough to take a flat footed jump over top of her. Upon landing he immediately bolted over to join his colleagues.

As though he practiced the manoeuvre all his life, Mad Mirror holstered one of his guns in a flash so that his now free hand could go about modulating the other held pistol. His thumb and index finger clamped upon the white topped knob that jutted out from the back end of the barrel and proceeded to twist it in a hurry while his colleagues, pain and all, began to weakly find their cover at his side. With one last trigger pull, he shot the floor space directly in front of them.

The last that Nightstar saw of them as she pulled herself up to her knees was an impressive flash of white light. She had not failed to incite fear in the hearts of criminals as she had been taught so by her father, they had ran away after all, but she had failed to prevent the thievery of which they intended and for that she felt a little bit more worse for wear than usual.

* * *

At the dawn of a new day, Jace Allen, the fastest boy alive, sought the company of the plain yet intricate forms of plant life he had set to grow and flourish within the walls of a makeshift greenhouse room at the side of the West family home. This plant dedicated section of the spacious home was originally reserved for the hot tub but due to difficulties with the weather [INT#3] and the pleading of Jace himself, the focus of the room had changed drastically. Since one of the home's masters, Jai West, enjoyed the view of the outdoors while emerging his body in calming hot water, the majority of the outward facing walls were already fixed with variably wide glass panels, each one flat, clean and ready to allow the sun's solar rays to pass through their forms to be absorbed by the precious greens stored within. The outside facing broad wall possessed a full length sliding door system to its upper side, closest to the front of the house, while a sizable window emplacement starting at about stomach height upwards to the ceiling began nearly at the touch of the sliding door's edge and trailed towards the back of the house. The backside wall had a sliding door system of its own, enfranchised at its absolute centre. The wall facing the front of the house was unlike all the others for its first metre of solidity was composed of oblong shaped rocks about the size of the average person's palm, all cobbled together tightly with cracks filled in with the pale cement grey paste; it was within this inside corner, along this strip of rock, that the sizable hot tub was entrenched. Above the stones, much like as it was to the floor and between the straight edges of the glass doors and windows, were horizontally laid wooden boards, all polished to glow in their creamy colour. The interior wall, running synonymous with the house, had a long window strip of its own that gave full view of a pleasantly empty white walled room on the other side. The full reach of this window across the span of the wall was cut short by the presence of a darkly painted door that held its position close to the back corner, its composition being notable for its hollowed interior as well as the head sized glass window that was more often than not perfectly matched to the height of the body part used to describe it.

Within this room, Jace had layered at least two rows of thick wooden plank shelves along the walls, avoiding of course the presence of doors, of which he kept atop their holds a variable size of clay pots of a very earthly orange flavour. The large majority of these plants he so dutifully cared for were especially rare flower types, well, rare in so far as they were not present in his home era, the twenty eighth century. The colours, while sparse in such an early stage of life, were quite remarkable, invoking many feelings of warmth with their sharp shades of scarlet and yellow, one of which, a mixture of the vying dominating shades, had caught his attention along the outside wall, less than a foot upwards of the window that the shelf ran along. His focus he held upon the cup of water in his hand was truly admirable, the essence that he poured out and into the blackened soil being calculated to precision necessity for the plant's health, but this vast determination and mental power was not without its faults for when the door leading into the house rattled upon opening his body suddenly shook and his hand wavered back to prevent the last gush of liquid from slipping off the container's curved ledge.

The person whom had taken him off balance with their entry was Jai, the powerless son of the once former Flash, Wally West. He was a sizable specimen of muscle, broad shoulders with grape fruit sized biceps and a striking shot of short rippling black hair with dark eyes to match. Flexed overtop of his body was a tight fitting short sleeved baby blue shirt that folded out minimally into curls around his waist line where his slick navy blue sweat pants began. His heavy steps were thunderous upon the floor; it was not difficult for Jace to realize just who it was without even looking, "Jace?" he cried out.

Jace was considered tall among his peers and naturally athletic. His hair was lightly trimmed short to his scalp, being unkempt and scruffy as the speed at which he travelled often caused it to become so and thus he felt there to be no reason in maintaining it fashionably. The colour that imbued his eyes was a rare tan colour; brown, but nonetheless lightly running in a very creamy sense, certainly not a shade that one encountered often in others roaming the earth in this era. Additionally, he was nearly straight jawed just as the other Flash's look like before him. Young as he was, he had never properly taken himself into the cultural hub and activity of the cities he lived in, preferring the ideals of substance over value and simplicity over complexity when it came to being alive day to day, and as such, took to a simple wear of black dress pants and a tight fitting red short sleeved shirt that properly conveyed his torso's muscular features albeit partially covered by the slimming almost plastic like black jacket that confirmed rather loosely to his arms but fluttering lifeless across the breadth of his chest. Initial encounters with the boy would affirm his youthful vigour, but those whom knew him well recognized the far reaches of his experiences that lay trapped behind his eyes. "Jai," his head bobbled up for nary a second before his chin slumped down to the centre of his chest. He promptly pulled up the glass and set it to the side of the pot that had once held his deepest interests.

"I just talked to Iris," Jai came to a resounding stop several steps inward of the opened door, padding his hands down his sides to iron out the bulging wrinkles in her shirt, "she's doing damage control with the Mayor today…" het let a significant space of silence elapses, all the time of which Jace continued to hunch his shoulders, unwilling to face him, "it's been reported," he let a heavy expulsion of air, "the Hyperguard killed twenty-three people [INT#7-8]."

Jace sighed as his neck straightened back up. The palm of his right hand smacked against the corner of his forehead where it roamed for a while till it had found a zone of comfort of which to latch onto. His unconscious eyes wavered to the clean blades of grass outside the window and the towering trees only a short distance away, closing off the West family's property, "what do you want me to say Jai?" the hand fell to his thigh as he abruptly turned around, "do you want me to apologize that a number of innocent people were killed because of my actions?" his voice came across as a growl, coarse as it strained to maintain a low key monotone.

"Whoa," Jai shook a hand out to Jace, "you haven't killed anyone." He shook his head as his hand returned to his side, "that's not what this is about…I was talking to Iris about what you said to her the other day," he took in two panting breaths, "I've got to admit; I've become quite concerned about you."

"And why should you care? I should have never come here…been left here," Jai appeared about ready to step in but Jace swiftly waved him down, silently commanding him to let him finish; "do you think I like being imprisoned in this devolving era? Everyone I've met," his eyes wavered around and about as he desperately sought out the proper wording but inevitably came out empty, "I can't explain it. They spend the entirety of their lives trying to attain what they most desire but they're all so unwilling to take those necessary steps to make those awaiting achievements real. I thought I was beginning to understand this train of thought…the actions I've taken with all their repercussions but I've seen something now, a future hope, and I can't stop thinking about it now," his head fell back against the window, pushing lightly against the multi-coloured bulb of the flower with his backside, "who wouldn't want to turn back the hands of time? To save the lives of those lost, of those we've lost," he accentuated hard upon the second slice of his concluding statement.

"And you believe you have the right to do that?" Jai flexed his bulging arms across his chest as he became stern.

"I have the power to; therefore, I have a moral obligation use all that I have to do so," Jace left his perch against the window and nodded in affirmation, "there has to be a reason why the Speed Force chose to embed its power within me…I've just made some mistakes in my past. I only need to reformulate some of my calculations."

Jai nodded as his arms flopped down to his sides, "I'm not exactly sure why Max Mercury left you here with us but," he gulped, "I'm pretty sure it had something to do with this. When my father left us, Iris was left to her own accord and sure I've been the best support that I could be but I know it's not the same, I don't see the same way that she sees. The world, it just flies right by her. But she's not alone anymore and neither are you…Jace," Jai reached out a hand for the boy's shoulder, "don't let yourself fall into this," he shook his head, "you can't keep fighting it. It's always going to escalate. It starts with one life shattering tragedy and then you're suddenly asking yourself why not all tragedies before it? You'll spend the entirety of your life looking for answers to problems that were never meant to be solved. It will engulf you."

"Is that what happened to Wally?" Jace piqued up.

Jai relinquished his hand, "I don't know," he sighed with the shake of his head, "I just hope you understand that with all that power you possess, every time you change a piece of your past you change every facet of your life. You'll change everything that makes you who you are. The impact of a tragedy such as your own is wholly stripped of its meaning the moment you step your foot in and change it," Jai huffed up as he turned to bellowing from the deep recesses of his lungs, "Jace, how could you ever want to kill yourself?"

Jace winced, his voice becoming sullen, "I just don't want to think about it anymore."

The swirling tensions that filled the air of the room were cleanly cut by a garbling ring, a phone within the house proper having sounded off in three second intervals. Two of these rings passed by him before Jai finally relented his stare from Jace's eyes, "I'll get it." Jace watched him as he infiltrated the house before abruptly turning back towards his planting project, once more becoming fully engrossed in the colours of the flower and lamenting the lack of sunlight falling upon it. "It's for you," Jai tossed up his hand with the blocky grey cordless phone in hand, "its Mar'i," he seemed to shake in disbelief.

"Hello," Jace clasped the plastic device to the side of his head. Jai watched as Jace's eyes lost all focus, spacing out into nothingness as the static laced words blistered out of the phone's speaker, "intriguing," a short span of seconds paced by once more, "no, I'm not doing anything today. Of course," he nodded, "I'll be over within the next hour," his phone holding hand dropped with the conclusion of his last word. He looked over to Jai, recognizing the curiosity that filled his eyes, "she says that she's encountered the rogues."

* * *

"You're alive!" it had not taken much to disengage Interval from his condensed strain of thought. It was quite impactful, this soft pitched shout, so filled of momentous relief. The voice itself, its tonal pattern, was becoming so very familiar to him, his calculated memory already having cycled through the various dates he had heard such poignancy. He inevitably fell upon a single recognizable face. It was the voice of Jadelynn, she having successfully untied the knots of stress and tension that formerly held a near impenetrable stronghold within her stomach with the simple crossing of her vision over him. Her tooth filled smile was growing evermore with every passing second as her feet trotted with a clang against the single sheet of metal that made the floor board; she was on course to meet him. Her hair was black and lacy though abstracted of such soft value as it was tied up in a bun at the back of her head. Her chin angled to a point of ease providing a strong base for a symmetrical outline that was best conveyed in her tear blue dotted eyes and tiny flat nose. She wore a jumpsuit of sorts, enticing nearly the entirety of her body in a thick silky black material that cut short only at the bulbs of her wrists and in a triangular point down the centre of her neck.

Prior to the arrival of Jadelynn, Interval's focus had been fixated upon the colour display of the cumbersome monitor screen that had its straight sides wedged snuggly into the fully rounded wall of the tubular shaped booth he stood in. The scarlet colour that represented the family line of the Flash was present in his shin high boots, the stunted gloves that meagrely reached beyond wrists, cowl piece, and the encompassing triangular piece that began along the ridges of his shoulders and narrowed into his waist where it closed off with a flat head while a thin chain of lightning circled around him like a belt. The rest of his suit maintained a straight black. His ears were fitted with small silvery saucers from which an inch and a half long bolt of yellow lightning blistered off to the back of his head while his eyes were protected by goggle pieces tinted to a light yellow. The oft considered essential feature of the Flash, the logo, was a feature present at the centre of his chest; a circular of white within a raised black boundary line with a thick bolt of yellow streaking from one side down a diagonal line to another. He twisted his neck away from the screen, peering out from the enclosure of the booth in order to gather a healthy look of her as she came to him with arms wide open. She reached both her delicate hands under his shoulders as she took a step up onto the booth's base so they could be on equal footing. Needless to say, he was most confused when she pressed her grasp around his backside tightly and gently laid the side of her head against his chest. His arms lay numb, uncertain as to how to approach this strange act of hers.

The booth that they stood within was spacious in its circular shape but along with the placement of the monitor screen wedged against the booth's curved wall, the wide stretching size of the plastic though light stone grey colour topped table directly below and the variety of computer cords trailing into the floor, there was just little room left to walk around. A thick coat of orange paint, its texture almost rubber like, engrossed the booth's base while the walls themselves were painted an empowering purity of white; not a single dimple in sight. It was one of three similar designed booths though not as complexly oriented. One was directly across from the one they stood in, the metre wide entrance ways of each lining up to one another handsomely, while the other was several metres down at the end of the walkway from which Jadelynn was presumed to have walked from.

They of course were not alone in occupying the space of the booth. Jadelynn's caretaker, John Thermos, was presently hunched over top of the computer table, his hands hovering lightly above the neon blue lined keys of the primary computer board that lay upon the table. When standing upright, he was a whole head taller than average person with a muscle structure well suited to such an advantage in height. He had a personal preference for dark clothing, currently wearing a long knee reaching deep blue jacket that was most notable for its wide lined lapels that sharply glinted white as its plastic like fabric dictated; it was of a high quality material most impeccable for its resistance to the assortments of scrapes and cuts a fighting man was oft to face. Its trustworthy design was used again in the fashioning of his black pants and once more in the coating of his shoes. He had very short black hair, nearly shaved, a crew cut of sorts that brought the attention down to his strictly brown oval eyes. His jaw line was quite embedded into his face, causing the skin of his cheeks to ripple inwards making the bulging of bone most prominent. He was very military like in his demeanour, a trait most fitting considering his previous career: NSA agent. When he had left the service of the government, he located himself and Jadelynn to Keystone city where he used his exceptional skills in service to the black market, providing buyers with documents, weapons and prized control computer chips, one of which in the last category gathering the attention of Interval, the powers of guilt being all to unmanageable for him and thus sought the young speedster's help after being saved by him [INT#6]. Upon hearing the light crunch of Jadelynn's steps upon the booth's base, his head suddenly rose up straight promptly followed by the turn of his head in order to catch the two in their friendly embrace with his sharpening eyes, a small smirk forming upon his face.

"What happened?" Jadelynn let the warmth of her body slide away from him after several seconds of their closeness elapsed. Her hands remained loosely connected to his sides most unwilling to let go completely, "you were acting like we were never going to see you again," her eyes fluttered rapidly as they connected deeply into his.

"At the moment of my exit, I believed that it was to be so," Interval returned with his dry monotone.

"I have to admit," John stepped in, arms grasping around his back causing the long flaps of his jacket to crunch in together like a cape, "I'm a little bit surprised by your visit myself but my curiosity remains ever more so bolder," he tilted his chin to the speedster, "how is that you survived your encounter with the Hyperguard? What has become of them?"

"Removed from our timeline," Jadelynn's arms slid from Interval's sides as he turned his attention to John, "there is a place within the core source of my power-"

"The Speed Force?" Jadelynn cut in with a knowledgeable understanding.

"Yes," Interval momentarily nodded to her before returning to John, "it is a motionless prison, designed to hold those powerful enough to transverse the speed of light and time itself if they so choose to use such abilities for ill purposes. I had been imprisoned there once before and as a result I became knowledgeable of the vibrational frequency necessary to enter it. My plan was to release them there."

"I take it that there was no way for you to return?" John pondered.

"The time that I was imprisoned there, when I made my attempt to escape, I nearly broke the fabric of the Speed Force," Interval suddenly became more sullen as his arms clobbered to cross over his stomach as though a boiling pain was emanating from there, "it was because of that and other actions taken that Hyperguard were able to escape from their lost time stream and enter our own. Risking an attempt to escape may have unleashed a greater threat than just the Hyperguard, and in any case, I am not as powerful as my colleagues. I had assistance on my first escape. I most assuredly would have been engulfed by its energies had I attempted to once more."

"The Flash," John took in a deep breath, "you should have seen her when she came to the understanding of your great peril. She moved so fast I had not even blinked. She knew exactly what you were planning to do and she straightened up at an instant. I assume since you're here that she had managed to preserve your existence but I must ask: what of her?"

"She is fine," Interval conferred in haste, "her arrival was perfectly time to remove me from my course of action," he pulled his sight down from John, "less than a millisecond before entry into the motionless prison."

"How can you be certain then," John's hand wandered to his sides as he intensely focussed on Interval as the young speedster pulled his head back up, "that the Hyperguard are where you want them to be?"

"I suppose that I can't be entirely certain," Interval relented but proceeded to take a lighter tone upon furthering his position, "but the Speed Force has more than just prisons within its many folds. It's been noted a number of times that speedsters who pass on from life enter a serene world within," he periodically glanced to both John and Jadelynn, a shine to his eyes, "a Valhalla for speedsters if you will. Those whom have encountered it claim that the heroes now living in this realm have occasionally come to their assistance as their battles progress into the Speed Force itself."

"So someone was there to help you?" Jadelynn squeaked.

"I saw someone," Interval nodded, "but as to his identity, that much is debated but I believe I have a grasp of it all. Though it may sound strange to you, I am under the belief that this person may have actually been me."

"What?" Jadelynn recoiled in puzzlement.

"I've travelled through time before. It is how I've made it from my home century to yours here," Interval continued, "perhaps I've been here before and you have failed to notice my presence just as I have. It's not exactly a notion that can be supported with any evidence, but it's a strong possibility considering the many facets of the Speed Force in relation to time travel, as well as the appearance of this person. Who would know the trials of my life better than me?"

"You sound overly optimistic," John chimed in, "I would go so far as to say you were feeling hopeful."

"Hope?" Interval seemed to raise a brow, "that is a good word. Yes, I believe so," he giddily nodded, "this future version of myself passed through the Speed Force without aid, overcoming the suffering and death that surely would have been placed upon me had I tried so. The greatest of my powers lay in the events of the future, and it is very bright…." He forced smile up on his face. It was weak in its breadth but powerful enough to be captured by Jadelynn whom felt a gentle sway of warmth fill her chest at a moment's notice.

"But aside from these pleasantries and stories of survival," John abruptly turned around to the table where his hands immediately swivelled in to gather their previous positioning overtop of the keys, "I assume there are other reasons for your appearance here."

"The Flash is not particularly strong when it comes to interrogation techniques," Interval stepped up to John's left side, eyes rising to the brightness of the monitor screen which displayed upon its flat face patterned blotches of green, brown, grey, blue, sand and other grounded shades that all collectively created a satellite picture view of the city they inhabited along the coast of the major river. "I was hoping that through your connections in the underground markets that I could acquire information about the movements of some arms, Rogue's arms to be exact."

"Ah, the Rogues," John tapped his index finger down on a sizable button which flushed away the bird's eye city view, replacing it with several fully bodied pictures, criminal persons of a costume variety whom he though to sound off as they appeared from left to right, "Heat Wave," the man in white with the orange cartridge flame showering gun, "Weather Wizard," a man in a full body green outfit with a golden wand in hand, "the Trickster," a scrawny being with an impeccably flamboyant fashion taste, "Mirror Master," an orange suited person with the oddest full face mask of green, "and of course, long time flash arch enemy and Rogues leader, Captain Cold," the man with the blue parka of doom and dual purple coloured pistols that oozed ice from their tips. Interval shook his head disapprovingly with the finality to John's words with the final member noted. "There are many others I'm sure, but even crime historians have had difficulty pinning down the entirety of their roster," he held back a heavy expulsion of breath, "much of the originals have retired and moved on to other business practices, most still illicit in nature, but not as life threatening as before. Captain Cold, as I recall, was particularly shrewd in his criminal acts and enforced fine policies throughout the ranks he commanded. " He further tapped the keys, the pictures quickly dissipating to a glossy black screen punctuated by the presence of green grid lines that placed a multitude of numbers within the sections created by row and column dividing lines, "they've done well to cover themselves as far as weapons dealing is concerned. Back in their days of infamy they were noted for killing whoever attempted to duplicate their unique approaches but that hasn't stopped a few off hand items slip from their hideaway."

"As you have probably figured, I encountered Captain Cold fairly recently [INT#3]," Interval scanned through the assortment of numerical symbols as they corresponded to cities such as Gotham, Keystone, Coast, Gateway along straight lined rows; it was the stock market of the criminal underworld. "He was using technology acquired from all Rogues members, applying their specializations to his own."

"Well, perhaps he has formed a new incarnation of his team?" John batted an eye up to the speedster, thoroughly understanding the agile thinker to have already conceived such a possibility to negative effect.

"No," Interval shook his head, "He turned his own ice pistol on himself as his plans collapsed upon my intervention. I have been unable to locate any of his remains but at the time of our encounter his vital organs were already slowed to the point of cryogenic sleep. If anything is left of him, it's buried at the bottom of the river."

"Then do you have any other information for me to work with?"

"Yes," Interval nodded in affirmation, "the city this incarnation was encountered in was Bludhaven."

For several seconds the keyboard fell under the mercy of John's finger, the plastic crunching sound of each individual key soon developed into a symphony as the rate at which he inputted commands increased. The multiple green lined columns soon flickered into emptiness but did not stay bare for very long; the column noted as city or location quickly filled in along each line the letter 'B', attaching to it after a single dash mark, 'Bludhaven'. And when sixteen slots had been filled, John's hands came to rest, "each thread makes note of a Rogue's based weaponry within the buying pool. I could investigate each one and might possibly acquire a name for you but there are several concerns I must make mention of," he pulled himself up from his towering position above the table, relaxing the tension in his back with the casual rotations of his shoulders, "while this market in particular functions on the underground protected Unternet, honour among thieves and all, it is not as though the authorities are not aware that transaction are being made in the subbasements of cyberspace. Even if these salespersons claim to be operating out of Bludhaven, more often than not they are from other criminal hubs like Gotham, outsourcing their products to avoid detection. It would take hours to sift through all the digital files to get a proper source."

"There's something else though, isn't there?" Interval raised a brow as he found himself staring at John.

"I'm a fairly well regarded salesperson," John relented, "I doubt my respectable reputation would be upheld if they found me to be investigating at the behest of a person associated with a major superhero."

"I don't particularly see myself as a superhero," Interval hastily replied.

"Of course not," John smirked, "that's why I said associated."

"I can handle this kind of investigation in a method more befitting someone of my talents," Interval let his eyes slide down the column of numbers that snuggled to the right side of the locations listing, each one detailing a particular time as based upon a twenty four hour clock, "I'll search each integer of the city on foot till I've found what I'm looking for."

"Not only would there be no guarantee that you'd find what you were looking for but it's Bludhaven you're searching through. It's a cesspool of violence with a governmental structure known for its severe criminal leanings" John stepped into a persona akin to a cautious father, "I trust that the Flash is to be with you on this case?"

"No," Interval took in a deep breath as he turned to John, "I'm afraid she's busy with matters of public image in light of recent events. But do not be concerned, I have a friend whom is local to the area, in fact, it was she whom made me knowledgeable of the Rogues being present in Bludhaven."

"Who is this?" John pondered.

"Nightstar," Interval replied with the loosening of a tightly held breath.

"Yes, I do believe I've heard of her," John turned to his keyboard once more, fingers slicing into the keypad with surprising immensity. The green lines and digits swiftly disappeared to bring up a crisp action caught picture of the violet hued super heroine, her fists fully engrossed in swaths of fiery energy, "the Tamaranean girl."

"She's only half Tamaranean," Interval corrected, "I've studied her file several times. She has lived in Bludhaven all her life, and has received training in fighting and gymnastics from both her parents in addition to having spent a year on Themyscira training with the Amazon tribes. If there's anyone my age whom could survive the brutality of Bludhaven that I hear in the weekly news reports, it would be her…its almost a wonder why she can't handle this problem on her own."

"She's very beautiful," Jadelynn chimed in, slowly wedging herself in between Interval and John as she threw her gaze upon the screen, caught in the heroine's clean tooth filled smile. The inner tips of her eyebrows began to curl upwards from atop her nose as her hands drew into a crumpled form at the centre of her chest; for whatever reason, she was quite distressed by the image she saw.

"Alright," Interval took a step backwards, "I shall be off. I'll be sure to let you know the results of this investigation."

"Goodbye Int-" Jadelynn rapidly turned around in an attempt to face the young hero with her farewell but all she found was the blurred after image of the scarlet hues that made up his costume; he was considerably far away from them now, but even more so further when she came to stuttering through the name of his heroic identity. "Well he went off in a hurry," she slammed her hands to the sides of her waist a she returned to John's side, "I wouldn't be surprised if it had something to do with this girl. I bet he takes off whenever she calls," she shook out a hand towards the delightful flat yet all-encompassing image of Nightstar that maintained its hold upon the screen, "I wondering if he's seeing her," the once straight admirable lines of her shoulder's slumped with a lung wrenching expulsion of air, "heh, I wonder what he sees in all that…" her head wobbled as the snarky comment lingered off towards words she did not have the heart to say.

"I see that you are jealous of her," John commented.

"Yes," Jadelynn snapped out from her depressing state with a fully body shake that ruffled strongly at her neck, "like I need to deny or explain anything to you anymore. You know what I'm thinking, how I feel…" she shied away from him as the uptight behaviour fell upon a sombre tone, "I don't even know her," she sighed, "I thought maybe we had something when he came here and talked to me but maybe all I'm really good at is being a listener. I barely know him either, but he's so noble, isn't he? I don't get to meet much people in this hole of ours. He can run anywhere he wants, be wherever he wants; he wants to run to that," she pointed disgustedly at the image once more.

"I don't think you should have anything to worry about," John tapped one key and the powerful image of the hero Nightstar whisked away into the nothingness, replaced almost immediately with the colour tones of the city from a space eye's view, "I don't think you're his type."

"What?" Jadelynn sparked up, shaking a hand out to John, "and so this super girl is because she's just so super? Well of course she is; she can defend her way through a slum like Bludhaven."

"That's not what I meant," John raised his back up straight, pulling his arms around to his backside as he looked down upon Jadelynn with a small smile, "I don't she's his type either…"

"Yeah, OK, I don't know why I can't compete," she huffed up as her skin began to boil in a swirling mixture of anger and resentment, somehow letting her emotional state glean over whatever wisdom her oldest friend had to offer, "no, I can," she nodded for her own personal benefit, "I can show him what I'm capable of. I don't need super powers or a rocking body to be effective as a vigilante," Jadelynn immediately stepped down from the booth, landing upon the walkway with a clang, "you've taught me everything you know…I've nearly mastered two different forms of martial arts, I can hack any Amtrac rail lines control centre and bank vaults…I have a lot of skills and I'm resourceful. I'm not just some person who lives in a wall waiting to be told someone else's life story. I mean has anyone ever seen me leave this place?" she twisted around to John, a hand thrown on a curvature across her body from waist to shoulder side.

"Well if they did," John shook his head, "then we'd have to relocate wouldn't we?"

"I have a life story of my own that I'd like to tell others someday," Jadelynn abruptly turned to her left, recognizing the solid steel plates that comprised the exit door, "I can't be hiding in a hole forever, I've got to do something, so that when I'm old…I can be satisfied with myself."

John took in a hefty gasp of air, "do be careful though." And with those kind words the dividing line of the door plates divided, opening up to the wide spacing alleyway outside than ran along the side of their humble abode. Jadelynn swiftly pulled up a rectangular shaped palm held device from her pocket as she stepped forward, its full top surface screen displaying an image very similar to that of the representation of the city on John's monitor screen though with one minor exception; speed lines, the trail of a speedster.

* * *

It was a simple cold coloured room with simple structured furnishings. The entirety of the western wall was a single sheet of glass several inches thick and while it did portray the immensely powerful reach of the sun's enveloping light, albeit slightly modulated on account of its bowed out shape, upon the clean buildings of Keystone City from several stories upwards, one gathered the feeling that what was seen from within here was not shared with the outdoor public on account of its surreal blue tint, a one way window. The lone desk of this room was shaped like a grinning smile, each broadside curved in parallel cuts to one another with sizable half circle closures to each end. The end side facing the window was particularly more so bulkier than the other, necessarily requiring a support base of significant esteem to hold the numerous shelves it carried. The smiling board top was smooth and of a slate like blue in its colouring touch; however, while the colour maintained through its supporting base, its overall feel was coarse and rigid with little flecks of gem like stones. Within its curving arch was a chair of a deep blue stained leather like coverage with a squared top ledge that rose well in excess of where the head would lay, supported instead by two horizontally laid ridges that would absorb its backside within their folds. It was slightly curved inward of the room, away from the window, all waiting for its rightful owner to take her seat within it. Yes, it was a simple room, but just how fitting was it for a private meeting with the mayor?

"Twenty-three people dead," the mayor's voice filtered through a hush as she circled around the bulge of the desk to get to her chair. Her eyes were fixed upon the soft comfort that lined the interior of the chair, imagining its feeling beneath her all to ready to sink body which she carried day to day, hour to hour, with a faltering conscience in times of duress. She was a sharped jawed tall middle aged woman with her dark raven hair cut short, well textured and pulled to a flat topped cliff at the top of her forehead; it was her sign of youth, strength and courage but the sullen tinge of purple below her lifeless brown eyes revealed in the inner turmoil that enveloped her since assuming this often delicate position of government. Her suit was dark and modestly fitting to her body, the only touch of colour coming from the button up blouse beneath her slimming jacket whose collar flared up the sides of her neck in their thick folded emplacements. She kept her chin buried in her chest as she took her seat, allowing for it to swivel on its wheels to put herself in the front face of the super heroin standing in her presence, The Flash, whom she had ignored all the way to her chair.

The Flash was a slender yet muscular looking woman with an abundance of strength and fortitude to match those whom carried the title before her. Like these predecessors, she maintained the distinctive colours and costume apparel along with her own personal touches; a scarlet red body suit, a bulky black belt with a very well shined golden centre buckle haphazardly sitting loosely around her waist, shin high clean yellow boots that moulded tightly to her feet in their blocky fashion, gloves that stretched more so on the outside of her arms than the inside thus creating a flair of triangular pointed barbs on the movement of her elbows and rising up from the coverage of her neck, a face piece that rode up her cheeks and crossed over top of her nose and forehead leaving the oval eye slots to be covered in bubbling goggles tinted just enough to prevent a visual find in her eyes. Of the more personal touches to her costume was the leather like jacket she was seldom seen without wearing, a throwback item from the nineties, she enjoy the comfort of its tightness around the arms while keeping the four buckles that normal surrounded her stomach open and free so as to allow the most important part of the Flash costume noticeable; the strike of thick yellow lightning across the chest. Her hair was no doubt flamboyantly red, long and luxurious when fully unwound but while treading around in her heroic identity the threads were pulled tightly together to a bulb at the back of her head, allowing the later sections roam freely like a tail; its movements while in top speed certainly did not go unnoticed. "Mayor Kolins, I just want to be understood clearly…I was not responsible for those deaths and I'm just as sorry as anyone that this has happened, even more so…" she was young, somewhere in the process of entering into her mid-twenties. It was at times like this that she was so desirous of her father's presence. It was not something she could simply run away from, be free spirited in the way she was as Kid Flash.

"Considering that these monsters' wore your colours, moved at your speeds , that they forcefully evicted them from their places of work, their cars, their daycare and restricted them to their homes…the fact that they wore your emblem," mayor Kolin's steadily raised her head with a heavy heart that bled its emotional girth through her mouth, "I do not think it very much matters how apologetic you are," they had finally reached a visual connection and with that, the Flash's nearly jumped, "I've already received several notifications for your arrest for questioning on top of hundreds of hate laced letters, threats to the wellbeing of the Flash museum…thankfully in your case, mayor Hazelwood in Central City has set himself up personally as the museum's protector, reminding just what your forbearers have done for both our cities and to disregard this one blemish in a long line of heroics."

The Flash took in a tough breath which promptly found itself held to a length that incurred internal pain, "I'm sorry…." She pleaded for forgiveness with a heavy sniff.

"I know," Mayor Kolin's nodded, "I understand, I never suspected you to have been involved in any of this, not after you, your father, your family, all that they've done for us over the years. No," she shook her head, "this, you love this city more than all of us, just as we all once loved you. You've dealt with these problematic speedsters I trust?"

"Yes," The Flash nodded, "but please, there must be something I can do now. I want to earn back their trust."

"I wouldn't bother," Mayor Kolins fell back into her chair, hands perplexing overtop of her stomach, "unless you can turn back the hands of time, in all likelihood, somewhere over the course of your adventures here, they'll have all forgotten and moved on…" she took in a hard swallow, "I hope."

* * *

Bludhaven's storied history played a crucial role in its architectural design. Its original planners sought to develop the location as a fishing and whaling town but with the decline of this industry by the turn of the twentieth century its more prominent neighbour, Gotham City, began to shift its weight of influence upon it, applying to its narrow faculties an economy that while diffuse in its structure inevitably made it wholly dependent upon the successes and failures of Gotham centred corporations. With its role of dependency secured, the city became a new field of operation for gangs and crime lords whom felt themselves no longer suited for the constant battle ground of Gotham City but with the dawn of a new century, after well over a hundred years of control, their authoritative hold of collapsed upon itself. No more than twenty years ago several super villains unleashed a swath of deadly chemicals upon the city nearly levelling it in addition to taking the lives of half its populace. With this focal point an opportunity for change arose. The subsequent elected mayors decided to rebuild the ruins in a way that applauded the architectural designs of its forefathers but applied a modern approach when it came to its physical construction. The results of this undertaking saw the creation of buildings that held upon their faces such aged features as brick linings, hardened black steel, plastered rock, and columned beams of wood; however, anyone willing to take the time to inspect these features would find their substances to be wholly compatible with the generic materials used in this current era of architecture: hard plastic, mixed concrete, and a wide variety of fabricated metals. While these impeccably strong materials gave the city a fresh coat of paint, the gangs and crime lords whom had come to see Bludhaven as their home prior to its destruction soon returned with a heightened edge of hostility towards outsiders and thus, with the a very short passage of time, business in the underworld returned.

There was a particular home in Bludhaven that was of interest. It was within the city limits but stood apart of the dirt and grit of the inner city in a clean luxurious strip of other homes of a similar social build; the upper class. It was a two story building shaped much like a box with straight edges, flat sides and notable angles. The overall size of this building appeared well in excess of a personal sized arena which appeared to be more or so the case considering that the front wall of the second floor was for the most part a long window strip comprised of small foot squared panes of glass as divided by inch thick black steel lines. With a finely painted violet dual door set situated at its centre and a series of smaller windows along the line of the first floor, as well as the second where the long one did not reach, the outer sides of the house were designed with hard plastic brick overlays of a deep slate blue tint. The front yard was tattered in variable shades of green, the grass blades unwilling to grow and flourish in and amongst one another but all in all quite evenly placed throughout the rectangular box with but one interruption: the cold grey stone walkway that led up to the entrance. Numerous thin pine trees of exceptional bounty lined closely to the sides, providing privacy to the home from the others that began beside it, those equally as well off neighbours. It was of special interest since while the other homes to its block were for the most part unoccupied, crime having scared many of wealthy class away, this one was inhabited.

"This is where Todd trained to become Nightwing?" Interval took a quick look around the cumbersome training arena he had come to be in before inevitably allowing his eyes to wander to the floor where the slanted view of the large window's black lined shadow cascaded across the floor, interacting occasionally with the a much straighter lined shadows as generated by the similarly built sky light windows that made up much of the roof. About seven feet inward of the walls was a solid premium blue plastic frame, containing within it, the centre of the room, a rubbery foam of a much lighter touched grey colouration; it was presumably the field in which much training took place. He avoided its soft touch beneath his feet with much candour, stepping along the hard edge of the plastic floor that encompassed its sides as he followed his guide, Mari.

"My father was particularly fond of him," Mari gingerly responded. She was on course for a single steel door embedded within the blue plastered side wall just a few feet inward of the front face of the house. It was smoothed into the wall so cleanly as to make a levelled feeling in passing across, "he was very close friends with his mother as was mine," she stumbled in her final words as she came to recognize a stop in Interval's following steps. She abruptly turned around to confront him, finding him to be fully transfixed upon several wooden tubular pegs that lined along the full breadth of solid back wall. They were at a height perfect enough to hang one's jacket, but each one was lacking any such item to hold. Without warning, he shifted his examination to the soft rubber floor, seemingly working his way through the multiple imperfections that arose from objects, most likely balance beams, exercise equipment and others of that ilk having been positioned in their spots a significant amount of time to overcome the retraction of the rubbery composition. "Yeah, I…" she trailed off for a moment, "I only come here when I need a place to stay, same for my mother," Mari took let out a heavy breath as she returned to her to her course for the door, "it hasn't exactly been a home since my father disappeared."

Interval maintained his stationary position, watching Mari as she continued to distance herself, "unless my memory is incorrect, I believe that in researching your file I read that Dick Grayson had died."

Mari's pace had slowed to a crawl the moment Interval had decided to speak but it was only when he reach the subject of her father that her fingers began to crinkle inward of her palms, finishing off their tense knuckle bound movements when she came to a resounding stop. She arched her chin onto a shoulder so that her eyes could spot him with their piercing sight, "that's just what some people want you to believe." Mari had taken to simple wear while at home: a slimming pair of fine blue jeans with a bright violet short sleeved shirt noted for the puffy curls that rounded the edge of the sleeves just after the edge of the shoulder's end. Her hair was loose and fine, curled throughout its back scratching length as it always was and maintaining her oft favoured colour in its rarest dark forms. She immediately noticed through the yellow goggle pieces that Interval was immensely fascinated with a particular part of her body, compelling her to turn around to confront him in full, "the eyes?" she pondered, "they're contact lenses," indeed, her eyes looked reasonably plain, circular gems of blue upon a white canvas, "I've found that my natural full purple palette tends to offsets a lot of people when I'm not wearing my costume." She returned her focus to the door once more; "speaking of which, why are you still wearing yours Jace?"

Jace pulled the fingers of his right hand into a fist, raising it up to his head where he marvelled at the lightning flash logo engraved into the circular top of his golden ring; though small, the reality was that the ring was a storage container for his costume. Mari's hair sprawled over her shoulders, caught up in the wind tunnel created by his spiralling tornado like movements at super speed, an act taken to drill his costume into the holster of the ring and return to his civilian identity, Jace Allen, wearing the black slacks and a tight fitting scarlet red shirt. Needless to say, Mari was quite startled by the blustery winds, turning around sharply to locate the cause of all the commotion but was put at ease in an instant when the bright blond haired boy nodded his head and smiled politely. He observed Mari with open eyes as she stepped up to the door which promptly compressed inward of itself and slid inward of the wall, "I have to admit, I'm a little curious as to why you have called me. Called for me help," he coughed a little into a closed fist as his voice struggled to become clean in its monotone style. Mari distanced herself into the blackness of the room beyond but not so much out of visual range, her body dropping to the floor almost immediately upon entering, " while I recognize the association that the Rogues have to the Flash, I fail to understand why you are unable to deal with them yourself," he shook both his hands down his sides as he came to stand three feet back of the door, wobbling in his footing to get comfortable, "what I mean to ask is, why am I here?"

"Because," Mari shot up from the floor while in a twisting struggle to greet him face to face. In her hand she carried a considerably luxurious fine black jacket, one hand clasped to the thick wooden hook of the coat hanger with the other fanning across the shoulder top. She pressed the coat's backside up against his chest, biting her tongue as she examined the flailing sleeves that knocked against his arms. She looked up to him with a dose of happiness that broke through the fake sleeve that covered her eyes, "I need a date," her brow popped with the final word.

"Pardon?" Jace understandably became quite flustered. The sole of his right foot dragged upwards along till its tip planted itself firmly to the floor, his knee fully willing to support a push backwards but finding himself to be somewhat hesitant in doing so as the probing of Mari's free hand intensified to the point of pinching.

"No, that won't do," Mari shrugged with a simple toss of her coat hanging hand, the jacket forming a crumpled heap of cloth upon its conflict with the smooth plastic floor. "I'm sorry, I thought we'd have easier finds considering Todd had turned my room into his personal closet while I was away at school," she twisted around to the door and reached for another article of clothing, a slimmer navy blue jacket with golden cuff buttons, which she corralled with crossing arms, "I swear there's nothing that boy won't buy if he thinks there's a chance it might look good on him someday," she shook her head disapprovingly as she pressed the jacket up against Jace's chest drawing from him a hollow growl with the loss of his breath, "but as it so happens, his clothing is mostly all in blue and you're more a red? Right?" She chucked the jacket in hand down to the floor where it joined the other. "And then I didn't have your sizes," she knelt over as she stepped back through the doorway, this time her hands gathering up a more sizable bundle of clothing, "so I just bought an entire shelf of suits and now, well, I'm hoping for the best."

"Date?" Jace squeaked.

"My school is hosting a social gathering at the Roth Arts Forum with the boys from Schwartz Academy…and guests," her head bobbled up atop the mass of cloth she carried in her hands, brows bouncing as she reconnected with Jace. "My extracurricular activities," she chuckled under her breath as she dropped a body sized bundle of folded scarlet red thick collared shirts with the finest trims of black pants and jackets to the floor in a reasonably nice pile at her feet. She smiled as she waved her hands out from the centre of her form as though she was presenting what she had brought to Jace, "my heroics," her head began to shake sarcastically, "let's just say I haven't had a whole lot of time to meet people," she shrugged.

"I don't mean to sound inconsiderate about your offer Mari," Jace drew a breath as he pulled himself back from Mari, holding open palms towards her while she in turn maintained a puzzled look of distancing dismay, "but I was under the notion that you had information regarding the Rogues," he abruptly dropped his apprehensive hands with a beleaguered expulsion of breath. After the passing of a silent moment, he took a step towards her, "am I mistaken?"

"No," Mari chuckled once more but came across as pitiful in execution, "I overheard them talking," she began to nod convulsively as she pulled herself into a serious huff, "they plan to hit the gathering…there's an old friend of mine, Chris Sinise, he's an artist. He does work in gold, silver, and other special metal shavings, he's very good," she made a lip tight smile as she gulped.

"What does this artist have to do with the Rogues?" Jace posited his curiosity.

"They mentioned him," Mari returned to her stuttering cycle of nods, "the arts forum plans to put his latest work on display…they're going to present it at the gathering." Mari lowered her voice, "I've heard rumours that he created it with diamonds."

"So they're planning to steal it for monetary value?" Jace popped an eyebrow, "historically, the rogues have always been interested in small arms heists and robbery but unless my history is wrong, diamonds haven't been of significant value since manufacturing."

"Well quite clearly you've never met a significant other," Mari voiced in sarcasm. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and shook her head in a negative fashion, "they don't plan on stealing anything. I believe they plan on torching it, right in front of everyone. This is about personal pride and power. I wouldn't doubt it if they're well off and acting out for the thrill of rebellion, maybe they even go to the Schwartz academy and are just jealous of Chris."

Jace nodded in affirmation, "so it's just as I figured, they purchased the Rogues equipment on the underground market. That's not particular good for them if the real Rogues hear of their actions; they're known to kill those they don't authorize."

"Then its best we get you fitted with something nice to wear," Mari gushed with happiness as she bent over to reach down for a blood red shirt that sat atop of the folded pile of others. She clutched it by its long sleeves, pulling it apart of its folded state as she got back onto solid upright footing, "this would be perfect," she leaned her head around the torso of cloth, "try it on."

With a dose of super speed, Jace had undergone more than eleven robe drawer changes in the span of a half hour, most of the time in between the full over turning of clothes being allotted to Mari whom took great joy in voicing her critical impressions of what he had come to wear though Jace noticed very little in change from shirt to shirt, jacket to jacket, pants to pants. She was smiling throughout the full duration of his rearranging clothes, absolutely marvelled by his rapid fire disrobing and accumulation of the precious coverage. It all came to an end suddenly when he had acquired a layout Mari had aptly described as 'deliciously perfect' though he had come to see in a different view: "this suit, its looks a lot like my Interval costume." And indeed it did. The black fine cloth jacket he wore was fitted modestly to his body with red piping fitted to the end of the sleeve. The shirt he wore was of a deep scarlet hue and as such the cuffs that came to encircle his wrists were so too. The jacket's lapels were considerably thin though still fleshed with enough silk to make their jagged lighting like lines noticeably displaced from the primary fabric used in the jacket's making. They homed into the centre of his waist on diagonal lines thus leaving much of his chest exposed. His pants were nicely matching to his jacket just as his leather like shoes were. The only part missing from this ensemble was the most important aspect of his heroic costume, the emblem.

"You look good in it," Mari lightly laid her hands upon his shoulders with her widening smile, "wait until you've seen what I've got to wear."

"If this social gathering, as you call it, if it includes your school, would I be wrong in assuming that your roommate, Lara Kent," Jace paused in collection of thought while his eyes attempted to waver around from Mari's enticing grip, "Supergirl. Does she plan on attending?"

"Well, you really do know a lot about me," Mari sighed into a smirk as she pushed Jace away from herself with enough force to cause his footing to fumble in solidity but in a quite admirable fashion, he restrained himself from falling with a quick shot of speed; she had clearly misjudged her own strength. "I'm afraid she doesn't much like these social functions. Anyway, she always uses the issues in metropolis as an excuse to avoid getting involved with people."

"I suppose the usual threat the Rogues pose would be below her skills at any rate," Jace contended with a slight bit of shame, understanding the disparity of villainous behaviours between the two heroic families.

"She'd argue that it's not. For her, it really all just depends upon what's going on in her life that she doesn't want to have to deal with. She'll be called to home to Themyscira for a twenty four hour prayer service to the gods and look, suddenly theirs a crime wave hitting the city, she has to be there," Mari let her head sway in a seldom seen disillusionment; "she always makes metropolis sound worse than it actually is. There's a lot of support for her out there that she doesn't seem to realize," she took in a heavy breath, "you know, you two have a lot in common…" her face winced, "Jace?" she was now forced to plead for the boy's attention, his eyes having found their way through the front side window where they seemingly came across something of peculiar interest; his face was so stoic. "Jace?"

"I'm sorry," Jace returned to Mari, "there's something I have to take care of. I'll be back in a Flash." With the passing of a furious heel turning wind that sparked her hair into division of threads, Jace was gone, leaving behind the receding foot prints he formed upon the rubber portion of the floor. Mari's strong shoulder structure slumped while she shook her head disapprovingly.

"Jadelynn, what are you doing in Bludhaven?" Jace slid along the slick black tar pavement on the turned sides of his dress shoes, acquiring a firm stationary position at the conclusion of his question. The high fashioned fabric that made up the shoes was ironically weak in structural build, his sharp turn leading too much wobbling in his ankles as his feet slammed up against their sides with the solidity of the soles embracing the friction of the ground at a less than expected hard edged strike. While there were a number of spacious luxury homes of the same character as Mari's across the street in a long parallel line, the space directly ahead from hers was allotted to a dual lane roadway that split it up into neighbourhood blocks. On the sidewalk, standing just outside the white arrow topped fence of a sizable front yard, he was surprised to find a familiar face from his usual base of operations.

Jadelynn fumbled to get both her hands cradling a personal electronic device, raising it from her waist line so that the screen would be shown to Jace; understandably, she was quite surprised to see the boy out of costume. "I followed you here. I took the Amtrac." Within the encasing of her palm device was a satellite picture of the Bludhaven area including within its various shades of grey, black and deep pine green, the wavy scarlet lines that indicated the movements of a speedster.

"I was unaware an Amtrac could be taken from Keystone to Bludhaven," Jace padded his hands to his sides, developing a stern façade.

"It doesn't," Jadelynn shook her head, "I had to hotwire one," she smirked.

"Jadelynn," Jace stepped up to her, a hand falling upon her shoulder the moment he reached close proximity, "what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to help," Jadelynn nodded.

"Jadelynn," Jace shied away for a breath moment with a soft sigh, "Bludhaven alone is a dangerous place, but…."

"So what's up with this," Jadelynn brushed away Jace's hold as both her hands shot up to the lapels of Jace's borrowed jacket. She proceeded to pull him in tightly, her head bouncing around as it failed to find focus on any one particular section of his fine fitting suit.

"I've been invited on a date," Jace replied in his solid monotone.

"With Nightstar?" Jadelynn promptly questioned receiving a sharp nod in an affirmative from Jace, "so you two are seeing each other?" Her hands slid down to his stomach level before unleashing their grasp with step backwards, her chin bowing lowly to her chest.

Jace shook his head, not necessarily in a manner found within a negative foundation but more so with the pricks and vices of puzzlement; a complete misunderstanding of the question posed to him, "the date is our cover. She claims to have overhead these Rogues imposters discuss infiltration of the Roth Arts Forum. They plan to torch the latest work of an artist named Gary Sinise and we plan to be there when they strike."

"The Roth Arts Forum," Jadelynn shook her head as she turned away.

"Jadelynn," Jace suddenly reached out a hand to clasp her shoulder, pulling her back to face him, "I hope you're not planning on getting involved."

"I can handle it here," Jadelynn snapped with a hint of rage, bolstering up her chin to level her eyes into taller Jace.

Jace gulped before he allowed himself to nod reassuringly, a small curve to the sides of his closed lips the moment his eyes connected contently with the shine of Jadelynn's, "I know you can." He let his hand slip back down to his side and with one more nod he turned his back to her.

"Wait, Interval," Jadelynn cried out with a voice that cobbled back together her previous form of a soft spoken person. The abrupt call brought Jace's attention back to her, "that prison…in the Speed Force," she leaned forward to him, "what was it like."

Jace shied away, "cold…so very cold."

* * *

"Iris?" Jai cried out. There was a slew of disturbing noises that had caught the man's attention, the alarming rate at which footsteps thumped upon the floor insinuating someone of speedster relation. With Jace currently out of town, he reasoned with certainty that the source of such thunderous noise could only be one person, his sister, but by the time he made his plea for a response from her, the voracious rustling had abruptly ended with an explosive drop. Upon entering the kitchen from the living room's entrance way he turned to his left where he found her huddled up in the cornering intersection of the room encompassing counter, her fallen bodily form being an easy contrast against the white skin of paint. Jai dropped down to a knee as he wedged up closely to her, "what happened?"

Iris slowly arched her knees up, distastefully dragging the flat soles of her boots along the floor in the movement, "I wish he was here," the elbow of her right arm planted itself firmly on the bulb of her nearest knee, providing the support she need for her falling head. Her flash mask had been torn down from her face, the goggle pieces now dangling around her neck with a cumbersome amount of red cloth. She was shaking all over, very minimally, but noticeably enough; the effects that the powers of stress had upon her.

"Who?" Jai leaned in further.

Iris locked eyes with Jai for a single moment, "dad," before the strength of her neck gave free. The side of her face jostled free of her hand and soon here chin had become buried in her chest. "He was right," she gulped, "I'm not ready for this."

"That's not what he said," Jai retorted post haste.

"No?" Iris tilted her head up with a disdainful taste to her tone, "then why didn't he name me his successor?"

"We were nineteen Iris," Jai placed a caring hand upon her shoulder, tensing up the muscles of his fingers to get within the folds of her dark jacket, "no one knew that he was going to disappear. No one saw this coming, but you stepped up in his absence and you've done it, you've made yourself the Flash."

"But not more," Iris rebuked, "I'm not as fast as him. Not as smart as him. The people loved him as they loved Barry before him, but not me," at that moment her head swung upwards, the wrangling mess of her flamboyant red hair buttressing her head within the corner she sat up against. There she sat for a silent moment staring up into the pristine white lights above.

"There are other attributes," Jai shook his head disapprovingly as he stuttered to find comforting words but inevitably came up dry much to the detriment of Iris's already faltering conscience.

"I never had life," Iris politely shook away Jai's hand as he brought herself back straight, directive in facing her brother, "you got to school, make lifelong friends. You got to pursue your dreams as a journalist just like mom did, but I've got nothing but a bunch of familial ties, a history with my role so increasingly scrutinized, I doubt that very many future generations will remember me."

"But I'll remember you," Jai responded with an indeterminate questioning tone.

"Yes, thank you," Iris responded with a sharp turn of sarcasm, "when I die, at least my twin brother will remember he had a sister at birth." The sullen attitude abruptly returned with the swaying of her head and a heavy sniff, "our family. I have a brother and a sociopathic cousin from the distant future who's been more trouble than he's worth. Was I expected to settle down at some point in my life? Start a family so that one day my kids could take this role while run off to the great Valhalla of speed?" she winced at her own rhetorical questions, "we should ask Jace how the West family is doing in the future. Maybe we're the last of our family line. I'd be ok with that if you are…."

"Iris," Jai clenched his teeth as he shook out the empathic feelings he had for sister. When he reached clarity, he rephrased his question, "what's wrong?"

"I'm tired of being sad Jai. I just want it all to end."

* * *

The chosen ballroom for the social gathering was a little trite and simplistic in its build but its rich flavour of colours and masonry materials in companionship with its spacious atmosphere afforded through its immense size more than made up for any undue criticisms levelled at its basic architecture. A spectacular blend of black marble christened the floor with the only occasional disruptions in its immaculate purity being the touches of pearl white in the form of large diamond shapes evenly situated from one another across the board. Its collective form was notable for its differing shaved textures; nonetheless, a crisp smoothness was maintained through the application of solid wax layer which caused it to glisten in the warmth the room created through its other surfaces; the walls featuring peppered tastes of peach that regularly invoked thoughts of an engrossing fire, the presence of gold plated light based torches ebbing out from the wall being all to enlightening in such regard. At the first story cut off, a sizable area was cut within the longer side walls. The area was supported on its outskirts by alabaster stone pillars of the rarest salmon hue lined, their presence just inside the interior cuts creating an almost segregated space, a sizable walkway, that seemingly served the purpose of protecting the paintings pinned up there, their various collages of colourful hues abstracting from the orange flesh of the walls proper.

There were tables in excess of thirty circling around the most centred diamond of the room, each one beautifully covered in an ivory white blanket of silk, a cleanliness matched by the multitude of plates and glasses that were dutifully placed upon it so as to match in line the gold bared, cream coloured cushioned chairs. Following this expansive area of dining were two sets of stairs circling in along the walls towards an equally spacious fenced balcony that bowed out towards its centre. It was sombrely distant from the dark tone of the floor, that while it retained the marble constitution it was more of a subdued white that stressed solidity rather than textural forms. Drapes of royal purple fell from the ceiling, four to each side, lining along the steps; quite the contrast. At floor base end of each stairwell were opening in the wall, leading down in the intricate labyrinth of showing halls and artistic displays.

At current moment, the ballroom was lush with life. Young men dressed in the finest of wears stood to the attention of their more fairer dressed others, the lovely ladies finding greater pleasure in the design and fortitude of their wear, imbuing a great deal of colourful sights. The process of intermingling was bittersweet at best. The boys from Schwartz academy were easy standouts with their school's jackets, the finer navy blue with the gold three prong gold badged ironed to the right side of their chests; they hardly appeared to be interested in the other boys, shunning them into a guild of outcasts that Jace Allen, given his similar status, would seem slated to join.

"I don't know about this," Jace gently pulled his jacket forward at the lapels as he, along with the pleasantly purple Mari, came to a sound stop just a few steps inward of the ballroom from the bypassed hallway of paintings, "I feel so uncomfortable, so out of place," he shook down his legs, stomping his heels into the ground to acquire a comfortable footing.

"You're a time traveller from another world," Mari chided him in short. Her mouth opened with a cheek crackling smile as she scanned her eyes through the room, "I thought you always felt out of place." Nearly the entirety of her neck, along with her shoulders down to their downward edge, was engulfed in round fabric bands of polished silver. A single dividing point existed on the collar, aimed straight down centre of her throat and closed off in the touching curve of her collar bone where a sharp yet round emerald jewel had been emplaced. The silver shoulder piece curved inward of the centre of her chest, tossing a line down to her abdomen where a girdle like device formed; it was from underneath its thickness along her waist that the floor touching dress flowed. It was an interesting clash of violet hues, one solid in its uniformity, a lush purple, and another glistening in its mesh like top layer, a shivering pink. Long nimble gloves of the particular fond matching colour reached up to within an inch's reach of her elbows, cutting off towards it with two tightly wound triangular points. All in all, it was heavily influenced by her heroic persona's costume which, as it happened to be, was heavily influence by her Tamaranean heritage; all that was felt to be missing was the prized tiara.

"Well, it's more so than usual. This place…it's noisy and crowded. So many people, all strangers to me," he turned to Mari, "What exactly am I expected to do here?" Jace raised a brow in puzzlement.

"Have fun hopefully," Mari winked as she caught Jace's attention. She kept her hands in tight to the centre of her waist as she took a deep breath and refocused herself forward, stepping once to get out of line with the boy, "perhaps you'll meet someone interesting, perhaps someone will find you interesting…" she slurred off in a very high pitched playful tone, "we'll take some time to eat and speak with others in fashionable discourse," she shrugged her shoulder's as she pulled her chin back to a shoulder, holding that almost permanent smile, "who knows, maybe we'll even get to dance later. I bet you're very good with your feet."

"Mari?" a woman called for the young girl's attention. She was a tall woman with a sparkling rich value to the entirety of her form, a radiant daughter of cheer whom nonetheless held to herself an air of authority. Her bleached blond hair was cut to shoulder length, circling around the edge of her ears to explode outward along the sides of her cheeks as it was so with her lively bangs that rose on arches over her forehead. A slate blue colouration, very light, very faint, was held within her eyes, well fitted within their pristine oval shape. Take the blend of her eyes against her hair would best describe the one piece dress that she graciously wore in addition to having a slight golden flavour to it as it looked to have almost small gem like features all and within its threads.

"Miss Hayes," Mari suddenly gulp as her eyes widened, finding the tall woman to be leaning in on her softly. Taking in a breath of confidence, Jace crossed his arms over on his back side and stepped forward to once more be on line with his so called date, nodding once in a polite gesture to this soft smiling woman standing before them.

"Who's this you have with you?" Miss Hayes grinned as she clamped her hands down to her waist, contorting her body out somewhat as she did so, lowering her sight to meet the creamy brown eyes of Jace.

"Jace Allen," Mari skipped a breath, "Jace this is Miss Greta Hayes," she waved out both her hands towards the woman as she bolstered her voice with a strain of glee that just wasn't quite sarcasm, "my math and trigonometry teacher."

"Allen?" Miss Hayes suddenly appeared startled, her narrow jaw line dropping.

"Yes," Jace nodded affirmatively.

"Well," Miss Hayes suddenly stretched out her back as her hands fell off the curves of her body. Her head fell back a bit with the stretch, taking in a heavy breath that saw her eyes close for a brief moment, "well I bet you're fast on your feet," she returned her eyes to the two of them, "oh," she looked atop and around them, "the caterers are coming, please excuse me," she made her polite farewell with a silent nod and walked off to their sides leaving Jace and Mari to look at one another with a shared confusion.

Jace became quite startled suddenly when Mari raised her head and began to sniff compulsively, seemingly looking to the glass panelled ceiling but never quite finding something to focus on; she was becoming quite spastic in her movements. It was at that moment that a row of four wheeled white plastic carts rolled along his left side, each one manned by a cleanly groomed caterer wearing what appeared to be a standard uniform of black jean pants and an untucked fresh white silver button up shirt, both articles of which were noted for their thick fabrics. It was with this fact that the final individual in the train of food carrying carts interesting. She wore the shirt, albeit quite poorly given that it was oversized, but her pants were almost skin tight, smooth rather than coarse as the jean material dictated. He was unable to catch a view of her face as she passed by but soundly judged from the way her dark hair was tied up on the back of her scalp and the way in which she carried herself forward with the cart ahead just who it was. "What are you doing Mari?" he popped a brow as he longingly stared at the purple wearing girl, "I mean, what are you doing?"

Mari suddenly shot her eyes at Jace. They were so terribly open, her face so expressionless, "I smell chocolate," and with that simple statement she hastily rushed off to follow the trail of caterers as they entered through the ring of tables to get into the centre, clutching her dress as her feet kicked up a furious storm.

Jace sighed with the shrug of his shoulders; he had been left alone in a strange place. With one last look around the ballroom, he found through the teeth chattering bodies of the young a place of possible solace: the hallway across the way. While it maintained the fiery excitement of blended peach tones in its walls along with a great deal of lively painted images all throughout its length, it was empty and thus, without much thought, he made the necessary moves to get over there.

The first few paintings inward were not as captivating as he thought they would be. More often than not, this was at fault with the colour of the walls they hung on, the spray of more earth based clay orange shades and textures along with splashes and showers of ocean blues being far too contrasted against the fiery backside that the gold light torches, sitting on the vertical dividing line between each painting, created with their blinding white sources working in unison with the peach tonal paint as was of a similar case, albeit more majestic, in the ballroom proper. He was never one to be interested in art but nonetheless held onto a sliver of hope that there was perhaps something down this way that would develop an interest in him for this form of media even if it be for a short time, meaning of course to get him through what is shaping up to be a terrible night if the imposter Rogues do not arrive shortly. As the long seconds passed and his feet grew tiresome in the foreign shoes he wore, he further opened his mind to doubt that he would find the soul of which brought these works of art into existence. It was an existential thought on the creation of beauty that he was less than willing to search and understand for fear of finding the form's seemingly inherent boredom to be completely abstract; his line of logic just had to be in absolutes. This however moved quickly on its way to change.

At About midway through the long spacious decorated corridor he had finally found that startling image that he so desired for, one so very different from the pack and yet still so very fitting. It was a heavy splash of dense textured silver and gold piece shavings, not the kind of moulds found through a processing mill but rather what one would expected to find laying around in a mine shaft after numerous excavations; they were all dark and brooding yet entirely cohesive in creating a spiralling tornado that gathered the eyes of its onlookers into its soulless heart, whisking their minds off into another dimension of reason. It was complete anti-art and yet it used some of the finest minerals known to man in this era.

"Do you like it?" a light pitched voice ripped Jace free of his senseless state of mind as found through the plaque of shaved metal pieces in question. Turning, he encountered a boy no older than himself whom was almost as equally as tall though perhaps more so ganglier. His head was as round as one could be, this being more so notable with his ebony touched red hair being cut shortly to his scalp, almost buzz like in its entirety. His eyes were a solid green, his nose long and suitably thin while his growing closed lipped smile did not do so much as dimple the curvature of his cheeks; he was well groomed though still quite rugged and dirty in perception. Of the most notable feature was his navy blue jacket, the golden emblem ironed onto the right side of his chest signifying that he was a member of the Schwartz Academy.

"Pardon?" Jace politely questioned as his hands came to clasp together at his backside.

"Do you like the work?" his voice had a unique touch to its form, cheery and decidedly modest all wrapped into a clean pitch.

"It's engaging," Jace nodded once before returning to his attention back to the artwork.

The fellow boy took the necessary steps to align himself side by side with Jace, assuming a similar standing position as he too ventured into the realms that this work of anti-art projected, "it seems to have that effect on people. Personally, I've never thought it to be my best work but it is rarely ever that we're allowed to make those decisions in the public eye."

"You're Christopher Sinise," Jace shot his head towards the boy.

"Yes," Christopher suddenly turned towards him in response, hand ready to be shaken in polite gesture, "And you are?" he trailed off as Jace clasped his hand, absorbing its soft cushion like touch.

"Jace Allen," Jace nodded as his hand dropped, "I've read quite a few texts about you and your work."

"Oh, have you?" Christopher gulped as he smiled in evident surprise, "I trust that you had heard of me prior to this whole event this evening?"

"My apologies then," Jace sharply replied, "I'm afraid I am not one to be interest in the visual arts."

"Nor culture it would appear," Christopher cheekily looked over his shoulder to the hallway opening leading into the Ballroom, "you do not wear our academy's jacket nor do I recall your face in my attendance there…" he paused for a moment, head swaying forward ever so slightly as he processed through some apparent, though quite evident, facts from his reception of Jace in full, "I hope," he began with great candour, "that you were not left here to fend on your own?"

"Well," Jace gulped, "I suppose I was. My uh," he shied away for a brief moment, "my date, she left me in order to satisfy her appetite. It's rather fine though, I have limited ambitions in the social realms and it seems to me that I oft prefer my loneliness."

"You sound as though you have little confidence in her. You claim your desire to be alone but you've accepted her invitation to come…social gatherings such as these intend to bring people into discussions, however trivial, as they partake in their meals," Christopher stroke up a small grin, "forgive me if I cross a line, but I am an artist of great curiosity…since you have come here, wandering for solace and found my art, I wonder whether this girlfriend of yours satisfies your ideals of a social union?" He vigorously nodded, "even the most silent of us seeks contact. We are all still beings of great emotion."

"And you sound very well educated," Jace abruptly dropped into his monotone.

"I may be seen as young but a few years' worth of schooling in the arts and philosophies has gone a long way for me," Christopher chided him with his grin widening ever more so, "as should be evident by this particular work," he waved his hand back to the twisting collage of precious metals, "additionally, my father liked to speak in philosophic and romantic dribble, I am told that we are very much alike."

Jace took in a deep breath, "I'm more or less with her tonight as a favour," he bowed his head a small bit as he turned back to the wall. A slight step of discomfort spiralled its way down his legs with a twitch, "I am not especially invested in her outside of friendly discourse, that being something in of itself a social bond or union."

Christopher crossed his arms as he leaned in closely to Jace, "Well then, perhaps there are others whom you would find as fitting to your ideals. I know of many fine ladies here tonight who would be more than willing to meet a stable gentleman, one whom is willing to be a student of love, unless of course," he became sharply apprehensive as a caressing hand of his own planted at the centre of his chest, "you do not lean towards such teachings?"

"That is probably how I would characterize myself," Jace nodded as his head began to rise, "I do not mind them as social companions, as a social union of friends, but as far as romantic inclinations are concerned, I have never known myself to have any interest," his voice developed a tendency to slur as his rate of words increased. As this was, at the conclusion of his statement, he found himself to be in a bit of a huff.

"Then perhaps, in that respect, we are kindred spirits," Christopher's voice drew itself to quieter pitch, "I myself am less than attracted to the woman kind as others within our collective guild of body types profess, though I still find them to be a great deal respectable in many manners of conversation and, well," he took let out a dignified breath of air, "I would gladly admit that I am still a pupil of love."

"Jace?" Mari's voice cried out from the ballroom entrance way causing both boys to flip on their heels to look her way.

"Mari?" Christopher whispered to himself before turning with a raised brow to Jace, "it is Mari Grayson whom you are entertaining tonight?" Jace nodded in affirmation as the hard clap of Mari's soles intensified as she drew near, "how puzzling it is that she be turned away by any man, I have heard so many gracious things of her from my school colleagues, most acclaimed of their sentiments being that she is love incarnate. I take it she is aware of your train of thought regarding her kind of student?"

"She is very in touch with her emotions while I remain stranded on the opposite end," Jace kept his words beneath the power of his breath.

Christopher nodded to Jace, "perhaps then, you are waiting to be rescued."

"There you are," Mari rushed right passed Christopher's face on a mission to catch Jace with arms wide open, each fingers soon coming to wrap around his arm nearest to the wall, "Chris?" her neck performed a full turn to the artist in a split second, her face conveying herself to be, insofar as he could describe it, halfway over the ledge of being startled, as though she was completely out of the rational mind or at the very least out of her usual character. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there," her hands broke down from their hold and, along with the drag of her body, met Christopher in a close embrace that filled both their hearts with friendly delight.

"As it is nice to see you, as always," Christopher smiled cheerfully as Mari took a solid step backwards from him but kept her hands gingerly attached to his biceps, "I was just talking to Jace here about my art though if I be wrong in saying so do stop me, but I do not believe he does not fully understands its power and emotional girth."

"Well, who can?" Mari mirrored Christopher's grin as her hands slid to her waist, elbows arched out to her sides, "your works have always been exquisite marvels. I'd be surprised if there could be anyone but yourself so capable of wrapping their heads around what you were trying to tell us," she raised her chin a little, a simple gesture that implied her sentiment as being in full, a compliment.

"Perhaps then, my latest effort may be more clearly revealing," Christopher pulled up a triumphant fist, "I'd love to appease you both with a sneak peak if it is of no bother?"

Though Jace appeared about ready to voice his approval of such an offer, Mari took her stand in front of him, waving back an arm to once more grab his, "not that I'd love to take you up on your offer Chris, but Jace and I have been invited to a table, I have some friends I'd like him to meet before the night is through. Beside," she paused for the building of tension, "I'd hate to spoil myself with a surprise meant to be shared by all."

"Very thoughtful," Christopher, though evidently set aback, nodded off to Mari with a kind smile, "Perhaps my art is best experienced with the collective whole as the curators intended rather than the selected few. I bid you farewell then, if not only to be seen again within the hour."

"Goodbye," Jace said his soft farewell as the strength of Mari pulled him back down the hallway, leading him the rampant noises, the spectacle of fire laced lights, and the bodies of young men and women intermingling that had come to define the current state of the ballroom.

* * *

Near one of the tables closest to a stairwell, where the ceramic white plates placed upon its surface had yet to be touched, Mari introduced Jace to one of her friends from school, "Jeanette, this is Jace Allen," she spoke candidly as she pulled the boy lifelessly forward. It quickly became evident that there was some restraint to Jace's heels as he was pulled, occasionally leaning them in hard and heavy against the floor resulting in a stuttering stride.

Jeanette had a pleasant face, more rounded along the cheek line than narrow. Her eyes were an immaculate green while her dark raven coloured hair curled into a multitude of bunches that diverged over and around the round caps of her shoulders. While Mari opted for the modest touch in her dress, Jenette opted for a more liberal approach; a single shoulder strap, fully exposed arms, deep diagonally lined collar, and a shin grazing dress line that rode particularly high to her left knee on a sharp curve. Needless to say, her glistening fully fit body more than made this approach appealable. The dress itself was a solid teal colour with a thick layer above of lighter pitched silk like fabric running across the bottom edge of her dress, around her abdomen like a girdle, and around her neck like a collar, just above the beginnings of the collar. "You've acquired yourself a tasty catch," Jeanette giggled as Jace became something of a temperamental fixture, unable to hold a solid posture for more than a second.

It was the words that Jeanette had spoken that had caused Jace to gulp in nervousness, temporarily tossing him into a state of discomfort as he nodded in acknowledgement of their meeting. To some dismay he found himself unable to find the strength to raise his hands and greet her properly, a grievous misstep that did not go unnoticed by her arriving date.

"This is my boyfriend Brian." He was tall in stature, moderately so given that Jace still stood that much taller than him, and gangly but not so much so that his athletically fit muscle tone could not be observed. His hair was a delicate blonde that was long in its flow along the top although parted near the centre line where the string like threads whisked off overtop the sides to run their ends against his ears. That menacing smile of his, so perfect with the bulge of a chin beneath, was unnerving but nonetheless quite charming in the way of execution; a bounce to his thin lined eyebrows.

Jenette's eyes rolled, "His close friend and confidant, Fredrick Werthem the fifth," a boy of modest standing stepped up and joined Brian in line. His hair was an intricate blend of light brown tones and blond, waving across the broad length of his forehead with the tips of his bangs touched the thin lined eyebrows in passing. A hard encapsulating brown made up the round centre of his, so steeped in its darkness that it failed to present a reflection. He was athletically fit and had a face that could only be described as forever grumbling.

"And Rigel," the last of the three boys appeared startled when he heard Jenette's call his name, abruptly turning his attention from the bodies stepping down the stairwell to find themselves transfixed upon the presence of company, immediately taking to commanding steps forward to join in the line beside Fredrick. He was certainly more so rounder than his colleagues but nonetheless held a packed physical girth. His eyes and hair had a pleasant matched dark black shade.

All those introduced shared a similarity that could not go without noticing: the Schwartz Academy jacket.

"So this is whom has stolen Mari's hand for the evening," the gloomy faced Fredrick held himself up to be as pompous as possible in confronting the assumedly timid Jace. As he stepped aside his tall friend Brian to lean in towards Jace with his menacing streak, it became terribly apparent that his right hand had been damaged, currently wrapped in tight swaths of clean white plaster, engulfing the fullness of his wrist, palm and most of his thumb.

"Stolen?" Jace rebuffed, stifling the readiness of an outburst, "you've invited me here for a motive outside of casual discussion and friendly pleasantries?"

"Werthem…I come from a long line of hunters," Frederick's eyes flickered in sly movements from side to side with a sharp menacing grin on the path development. "We're also deal in art collections in addition to being treasure seekers," his damaged hand sunk into clasping palm of his left hand as he nodded towards Mari whom held up quite the unflattering stare upon him, "Mari is one of finest works I've ever allowed my hunters instinct to be infatuated with, wouldn't you agree?"

"I know of your family," Jace spoke unflinchingly in his standard wooden monotone as he stepped up to counter the pompous boy's shady attempt at being intimidating, "and of the various criminal activities they've been involved to gain those artistic-" he abruptly grunted as a hard soled shoe, Mari's, landed soundly on his toes.

"Allen is it?" Fredrick smirked, "Allen," he repeated. "Where are you from, I ask?"

It was at this point of this question that Mari slipped into a state of unease, clutching her hands ever so tightly around Interval's nearest arm as she gulped, "Keystone City," the earth based town of the young speedster relinquished Mari of the short order breakdown of her nerves, letting a soft breath free with a short timed closure of her eyes.

"Allen from Keystone City," Fredrick haphazardly attempted to cross his arms, forgetting the scorching pain the engrossed his right hand, "I've never heard of any Allens. Is your family perhaps a part of the automotive industry your city is so famous for?" Jace held himself straight, "perhaps the steel refinement business?" His smile grew wide, "don't tell me I've lost Mari's hand to a common-"

"Officers of the law," Jace bolstered in, "I come from a line of detectives and crime scene investigators."

"Hmph," Fredrick grunted. "You're not wearing a school jacket;" the cheekiness returned with an added hint of ferocious delight, "where pray tell do you attend? A public school perhaps…" his two colleagues allowed a subdued chuckle to filter from their lips.

Jace shied away for a moment, taking a look into the soft blue palette enfranchised in Mari's eyes, "Keystone Polytechnic University," he brought his head back up with a thorough voice.

"Studying what?" Frederick winced with much surprise, a shared trait amongst those present.

"Quantum mechanics and causalities," Jace continued in his informative tone while the surrounding company, Mari included, began to zone into a place of curiosity mixed in with a hefty dose of disbelief, "I intended to go back for my doctorate this semester but due to time constraints on my experiments I've had to put on hold future educational endeavours."

"Alright every one," the voice of Miss Hayes shook the group free of their state of bafflement. A quick turn towards the sound of her voice revealed the slender golden shined teacher striding towards the centre of the room with a finely dressed robust man with smart fitting dark features in tow, a member of the Arts forum no doubt. "We have a special treat from your very own Chris Sinise tonight," she smiled graciously as she came to a stop at her destination.

"If you'll excuse us," Fredrick looked to his two colleagues before centring back to Jace and Mari, "we have some private matters to attend to." As he walked towards the hallway at Jace's backside, he kept his shifty gaze upon him, followed up by his classmate Rigel whom did so also. Brian was soon to follow but first took to a more proper farewell given his circumstances, laying a caressing hand upon Jeanette's exposed shoulder and smiling to her as he pulled away, walking past the line of Jace of Mari with his back to them. Jeanette was left quite puzzled.

"OK," Jace groaned, "have any other friends I should be meeting?"

"Jace, there's a reason why I wanted you to meet them," Mari pulled Jace's attention to her as Jeanette sought to take her seat. "Frederick's hand, I must have broken it when I encountered him when he was calling himself Heatzone. I think maybe his friends," she sharply turned her neck to take a look down the hallway as the boys in question became distance ants in size, "they must be the ones playing Mirror Master and Trickster."

Jace suddenly turned around to face the hallways also, his sour attitude suddenly clearing up as he became invigorated with criminal interests, "excellent," he hushed beneath his breath, "I'll follow them," he immediately shot back to Mari, "see if I can stop them before they go public."

"What should I do?"

"Well, if they manage to get through me," Jace nodded, "then someone's going to have to be here to stop them." He began to speed walk towards the hallway but as he was entering it entrance strip he saw within the long line of catering carts on the outside of the table circle, Chris gingerly talking with Jadelynn.

* * *

"So if you can keep everyone subdued for a little while, I'll torch the work." The self-titled Heatzone, the pompous leader of the recently formed Bludhaven based Rogues, shouted out his words like an order as he waved around his flame throwing pistol in his left hand. He was back into his sleek skin of white with the various orange decals and belts in their standard positions along with the fixed gasmask clamped from the bottom of his chin to the lower edge of his nose.

"No worries," the orange suited more shapely thick boy, the named Mad Mirror, piqued up as he too rose up his white shined box like pistol, "I've been working on the mirage trick for a while now, I think I've finally mastered it." the cumbersome fabric of his green mask began to slump along his chest necessitating the guiding of his free hand to correct the folds leading to much amusing a laugh in his even more so garishly coloured colleague, Tricky, noted for his bumble bee striped pants, teal coloured boots of a pixie design, mixed orange and purple shirt with a somewhat fitting faded purple jacket left unlatched, black star painted eye mask and flamboyant blonde hair all moulded at the centre of his head, rising over his forehead like a peak.

The three of them were within a storage closet of sorts, various amounts brown paper covered paintings in various sizes leaning up against one another on the walls along with stacks of chairs, benches, easels and other simple constructs construed about waiting for use. Their only source of light for this little gathering to get changed into their villainous guises was a dim bulb overhead hanging from a small metal chain, the occasional thunderous bustling in their movements leading it to occasionally wobble to and fro, its circular imprint upon the solidity of a cement grey floor being quite the eerie spectacle.

"It shouldn't take us longer than thirty seconds," Heatzone stated with the maintaining of his authoritative voice.

"This place is kind of crowded. What if someone, I don't know," Tricky began to hesitate in finding his words as he came under the glare of his fiery tempered leader, "tries to stop us?"

"No one would be stupid enough to try something," Heatzone drew his weapon down from its posture on his shoulder, holding its barrel aimed towards Tricky with a slight glint in his eyes.

"I wouldn't say there's no one," the foreign voice was quite startling, each of the three villains jumping something of a height from the floor. Turning towards the lone door they found within the darkness a scarlet clad person casually leaning up against the wall with his hands crossed over his chest. The fashioned bolts of lightning that sprouted out from his ears, his boots and rode around his waist line developed some conclusive argument to the person identity but it all honesty, they only came to understand whom they saw when his arms dropped lowly to his stomach thus revealing the circle of white and the strike of yellow diving through it on an angle.

"The Flash!" Heatzone shouted as he clumsily pulled up his pistol to fire towards the speedster. The stream of fire was straight and narrow but nonetheless fully engulfing in its explosive like nature; however, its burning effects were put at a standstill with the arrival of a blustery wind that snuffed its scorching strength into nothing ness and pushed each member of his team back several feet with the rustling of the brown storage paper.

"Not exactly," Interval stepped forward into the light, his spinning tornado forming arm coming to rest back at his side. He took a moment to look to each of the villains as they stood with an overt willingness to attack but relented to their fears and hesitated to move even the smallest morsel; they had never encountered resistance before now. "I don't think either of you realize what you are doing," he made use of his deep wooden voice; "the real rogues don't exactly like it when others try to emulate their skills. Many of them are still at large…they'll find you and then they'll kill you," he took in a deep breath, "surrender now, and this can be put behind- ahh!" A laser like beam had found its mark on his left side, narrowly avoiding his arm to get a knick on his ribcage. His left foot slipped on the floor resulting in a sudden trip that saw him stumbling to floor with hands arising in a split second to brace for impact. He took some much needed seconds there to recuperate from the attack, letting his mind suffer into the acknowledgement of the pulsating sensations of heat rubbing around the bulk of his ribs as his cells worked at their rapid speed to rebuild the scorched tissues; quite thankfully, the costume remained intact, only tarnished slightly but a coarse brand of black.

"Come on, get us out of here," Heatzone immediately commanded as he, along with Tricky, lurched into a spattering run towards Mad Mirror.

Interval raised his head slower than usually as he watched their feet fly by him. He managed to get a good look at his attacker, Mad Mirror, whom had a wide smile on his face, the delight of causing pain in his eyes; he was most likely trouble and didn't even care. He needed to be stopped. In a split second Interval was back on his feet and barrelling towards them, each step gaining in strength and speed, reaching their pinnacle when he was within arm's reach of throttling Mad Mirror but too much astonishment he came to hit nothing but a solid plate of glass, or rather a slickly shined mirror, which wobbled on its axel upon collision. He grunted a little as he pulled away from the full body rectangular mirror he had come to encounter, intrigued by the reverse image of himself in it; with the Mirror Master technology, they could literally be anywhere and he knew it. They were simple gone.

* * *

"Thank you Miss Hayes, Mr. Pettlerman," Chris nodded in greeting to the teacher before placing a firm hand within the art forum member's, shaking lightly while he blissfully grinned, understandably thrilled by this occasion of honouring. Along with Chris presence at the centre of the ballroom was his artistic creation albeit shrouded behind a cloth veil of white. It was in a rectangular shape consistent with his work already on display in the hallway but certainly a lot more expansive in overall size, its broadsides being nearly eight feet across and no doubt being suspended in the air with it highest edge being a whole head taller than Miss Hayes, the tallest of the three present in its company. Most, if not all, eyes had fallen upon Chris but he felt no pressure, he was completely sound in mind as he approached his work with hand poised to tear away the veil. Just as his fingers touched upon soft cloth the electronic torches, the source of light throughout the ballroom, fell out from favour, twisting the world into darkness leading him to stumble backwards to find solid footing in the aftermath of being startled. His hand was unable to find its way to clasp a fold within the cloth and thus his work remained covered in mystery.

"What…" Mari raised a brow as she pushed herself away from the table she sat around. A tad bit of light was offered through the ceiling windows but for the most part, the patrons of this evening were quite disabled. Mari was quite fortunate however, her alien physiology enabling her eyes to adjust quickly to her surroundings which for the most part was a collision of grey shades mixed in with an assortment of faded colours present in the extravagant dresses. For the most part though, she had become enamoured in the sounds of gasping breaths and chirping voices of confusion as other bodies stumbled around the ballroom floor looking for relief to their faltering lines of vision. She was all prepared to see if she could be of any assistance but before she could get herself free of her chair she felt a pull on both her arms, a tug that whisked all those dark hues and fading dress colours into swirling patterns that blistered past her at light speed.

"I've turned off the lights," it all came to an end when Interval's voice was found. She was brought face to face with the speedster in the far of distance of the hallway. Startled at first with such a rapid whisking away of her whole, she managed to accumulate clarity in Interval's words within a span of three seconds, nodding in acknowledgement, "suit up. I think they may still be here."

"Why?" Mari gasped.

"Because of that," Interval pointed back towards the Ballroom, drawing the swivel of Mari's neck with a receptive glare following his outstretched arm. The room was now glowing in a delicate flavour of orange and crisp gold against a coarse black surface, not the same kind that engrossed the room earlier with its electronic fixtures but rather appearing as though a small sun had been suddenly transported into its centre and now let loose its energy to fester around in waves of rage fuelled fire.

* * *

The audience of the evening, the young men and women of their associated academies, leaped from their chairs at the moment the explosive entanglement of fire evolved from the top of the balcony, scorching the royal purple drapes along the sides of the steps and on occasion reaching the closer table cloths. The source of this fury of flames of course was Heat Zone, standing atop of the centre of the banister of the balcony's fence with knees slightly bent and left hand, flamethrower active, flying wildly across the breadth of his body as he screamed in glorious destruction. The crowd quickly dispersed from their tables, seeking a way out of room but were instead throttled into a whole new other state of panic when another villain made his entry. The bases of the electric torches were caught up in the twisting curls of the flames, reinstating their reflective ability of their gold like surfaces thereby allowing for the humanoid body of the Mad Mirror to sift through and out from them or rather numerous version of him; mirages, one to each torch base, grinning fiercely with pistol drawn and waiting to discharge its wispy laser band. Wisely, the students backed up to their tables as the clones stepped towards them in unison upon touching ground and reforming to their absolute height. The energy transfer of the multiple Mad Mirrors left in their wake a meagre source of light as implanted in the torch bulbs, soon joined by emergency strips that outline the door frames of the hallways in addition to the top of the pillars.

Heat Zone jumped off from his stance on the banister, landing atop the nearest table with a thunderous rattle of utensils that culminated in the displacing of several plaster white plates which inevitably slipped off the table ledge and crashed into a multitude of shards upon the floor. Rising up from his crouched position, he immediately took into a narrow walk towards the centre of the room where Mr. Pettlerman, the arts forum member, was trembling in fear, Chris was in the course of taking a deep gulp as spots of sweat formed along the top of his shoulders, and Miss Hayes stood unabashed, though, completely willing to resort to fisticuffs if this villain so dared to conflict her in anyway.

"What do you want?" Chris took a light shaky step towards Heat Zone but was summarily smashed to the floor when the fiery villain crossed the butt of his pistol atop of his head.

"I want you to watch," Heat Zone coldly stated as he continued on walking towards the covered work of art.

"Chris!" Miss Hayes shouted as she dashed over to him but before she could even hope to get within an arm's reach of cradling the artist's head, a series of old fashioned, pirate like, black orb bombs fell from the air, colliding against the ground with a sparkling array of twisting green and red strands that sparkled like fireworks. With the sparks came along swaths of smoke that formed a dense curtain around the fallen Chris and following a brief moment, it dissipated lowly to the ground thus revealing the tall, almost gangly, image of Tricky whom had taken a position of dominance over Chris's body, his smile ever so foreboding that it caused Miss Hayes to step aback.

"Hold him up," Heat Zone commanded to his associate without once looking back. He raised his hand to wander along the smoothness of the drape covering the work of art, looking upon it, from the top to the bottom, as though he could see within its solid hue. He suddenly turned about face, walking back towards the startled Miss Hayes while the poor Mr. Pettlerman sought his way through to the outside of the circle of tables, quite a heavy tap to each foot. Tricky maintained his unearthly smile as he dragged up Chris's head, pulling along the button of his chin till it was the only part of his face touching the floor. Heat Zone took a moment to look into Chris's eyes, "hope you're watching," before he unleashed the powerful punch of fire upon the art work, the white cloth veil almost instantly evaporating while extended use of the flamethrower melted down whatever was of the art work proper.

In the flash of a single second, Interval propelled himself from the hallway into the ballroom where he proceeded to pass through the boys and girls, all stiff as statues, to grab a hold of Heat Zone's firing hand, pulling it down on a wrist crunching arch before pulling himself around to meet the villain face to face. A swift kick, that's all it took, and Heat Zone was riding across the floor on his lower back towards the balcony wall, stopping just a few feet short of knocking against the getting a layout of the room, noting the presence of the multitude of Mad Mirror people all looking subdued in shock, he came across the crumpled heap of scorched wood that once formerly held within it the work of art. He was staring at its lost form now, unable to break his transfixed consciousness upon the thought of such precious metals boiling to melting, the full destabilization of their core components to the point of becoming mush and meagrely slipping into a drainage pipe as perhaps the most expensive waste ever learnt of, but there was none to fall through; all it had become was a hardened lump cemented to the floor.

"Take care of him," Heat Zone let out a curdling scream as he slowly pulled himself up from his remorseful position on the floor, scorning those elitist kids nearby with a blood lusted glare. As he got his footing, the spare flame pistol was pulled out from its holster around the back of his waist, oddly enough requiring him to keep in track the transparent fuel line, and aimed at the backside of the swift footed young hero.

Heat Zone's order did not go without being noticed of course, Interval pulled his chin to a shoulder in which he caught in the corner of his eye the gaping mouth of Tricky as he released his hands from Chris's head thus leaving the artist's face to fall lightly to the floor, completely deprived of any energy to hold on its own strength. He made his dash towards Tricky with the full intention of putting him down for good in the context of this battle, but following in his namesake, Tricky tossed out his hand revealing well over a hundred heavy glass marbles, small little orbs of exuberant colours that smashed to the floor in a kaleidoscope of dings, soon coming to cover a large amount of space ahead of him thereby resulting in what could only have been expected from someone whom needs floor friction for speed, a complete collapse to the floor. The first step caught at least three beneath his sole, causing him to slip forward while the second foot completely missed its mark, the tips of his toes reaching the floor only in time for his back to meet it also. The feeling of small marbles smashed throughout the entirety of his backside: what a very odd kind of pain.

"Get him out of here!" Heat Zone shouted. All save for one of the Mad Mirrors present suddenly flickered with a ring of static, that lone one apparently being the real deal, breaking from formation to vault across a table to get into the centre of the ballroom where Interval lay dazed.

After slogging his hands through the bits of marbles, pushing them away from his fingertips, Interval proceeded to twist around and prop himself up onto his knees, raising his head just in time to see the orange suited menace leap off the table while his free hand steadily worked the knobs at his armed pistol hilt; he was changing its setting. An opportunity had presented itself but it would require of him absolute timing or else he would be experimenting with a fate worse than death. When the villain had finally brought the hero into the line of sight, as composed by the length of his pistol's barrel, Interval drove himself towards him, tossing his body into the air with all limbs spread out to their zenith. The trigger finger closed inward and the tip of the gun exploded into a blinding dispersal of white light. Knowing full well of its effects, Interval kept his eyes shut as he strangulated his arms around Mad Mirror's backside, pulling them together chest to chest, thus absorbing the impact of the currently non-lethal laser beam and forcing it back onto the young man who fired it. In an instant the two of them had become locked together in their transmission into an alternate realm of existence full of mirrors, each one leading to pre-programed reflective surfaces any place the owner so wanted.

An opportunity for sight-seeing was short, their conglomerated bodily form being flung across the dimensional void at an unimaginably slow pace, horizontally twisting about with one another while throwing in the occasional punch, Interval especially trying to wrestle free the mirror pistol before they hit the flooring which in of itself could in fact be a great deal of many things other than the flat aquatic blue surface it appeared to be. Being of a much smaller stature, Mad Mirror slipped his head down to Interval's chest level from which he proceeded to jerk upwards, using the top of his head to smack right into Interval's chin. An opportunity to leave the speedster behind in this void with no hope of exit had presented itself but the inertia of their movements had them on the collision course with a particularly large gateway, Interval looking up towards it as his hands flowed into the quicksilver like interior of the mirror, sucking him into the other world.

"Whoa," Interval punched the bulk of his palms against the first thing he saw, a pearl white counter top. It was hoped that he would be able to slow himself down but the reboot in his speed, after travelling so slowly in such a foreign dimension, resulted in him falling over the ledge of the counter head first, his legs arching up on a curvature towards the ceiling before plummeting to the stone white floor with the rest of his body, aimed as it were towards the finely scarlet red plates of metal that made up the bathroom stalls. In a quick second, he was back on his feet and encountering a young woman dressed for the occasion he was said to be a guest to; a flourishing pink dress with a multitude of streamlined fabric lines of a more baby hue along the lower bulk, and hooped scrunches on the edge of her shoulders. Her dark hair showed tireless effort in their braided design; he would have thought her to be having a good day had it not been for the tears the circled around the lower rung of her jade eyes. "Hello," he gulped, somewhat in relief now that he believed himself to be within the Arts Forum building. The tears around her eyes suddenly froze; she was in shock but not over the fact of the young hero's presence in the women's washroom but rather what unsightly thing was right behind him. "Oh," Interval suddenly turned back towards the mirror from which the orange suited villain was shovelling himself through with a sneer and laser gun ready to fire. He tossed up a stiff hand to Mad Mirror's face with enough force to get him back within the mirror portal. He swivelled back his dominant foot as he awaited for the entirety of the Mad Mirror's body to become engulfed in the mirror dimension once more and when such was achieved, he shot his hand back towards the villain, this time however, with a fist. The mirror collapsed around the print of his knuckles leading to one of the most horrified screams that the young woman in company had ever heard; the Mad Mirror had been trapped within the realm he believed himself full authoritative over, his face superimposed on each crack with eyes circling back in forth looking for answers.

The frightened girl sniffed as her nerves had since come to stifled away any emotional anguish. Following a nod and a short smile to her, Interval was gone.

* * *

"Where is that idiot," Heat Zone hunched his shoulders, brooding now that much of the fanfare upon his arrival had simmered down leading to awkward silence throughout, those in attendance tonight being uncertain as to whether they were free to leave or that a threat still loomed just behind the door. For the most part they all stood there in stunned silence, gasping.

"Police are going to be here soon," Tricky staunchly whispered as he walked over to his colleague.

"That's why Mad Mirror's supposed to be here to get us out," Heat Zone waved out his gun towards the students to reinforce his might in this desperate situation, "we can take them anyway. We're still good."

"We've got to get out of here," Tricky's voice hit a high note, becoming audible to the select few nearest to the villainous gathering.

"Sure you two don't want to stay around for some after dinner fun?" It was quite a cheeky voice, being soft and intelligibly sly, but it would be imprudent to disregard the menace of its impact upon the villainous duo; they could not conceive of there being any one amongst this group of students and few select teachers and staff that would dare challenge their authority, not with the power they've shown.

"You again," Heat Zone face winced into a standard set of grumpiness as he took a heavy step forward, nudging Tricky aside as he aimed the end of his pistol on a diagonal line to the ceiling, lining his sights up with the dashing violet hued Heroine holding her flight there. It was the Heroine was Nightstar, letting her right leg dangle below to its fullest extent while her left leg arch slightly inward at the knee so that the flat of her foot calmly connected to the right's shin in addition to holding out her fists which shined ever so intensely of energy, a continuous cycle of venomous purple. The contacts had been removed; her eyes were fully immersed in their true colour.

"So does that mean you're staying?" Nightstar continued with her cheeky attitude, "I never claim it's been a good night without some slime to beat up and some premier chocolate to do it on," she winked, "and I'm all out of chocolate."

Heat Zone groaned in contempt, "take her down," he clicked in the trigger, flashing a wavy stream of flame in the Heroines direction. It was quickly realized that the effects of gravity were having quite the poor reflection in his stream and so she nimbly stepped up that much higher than all that he could ever hope to toss at her. Her chuckle and indeed, even her beauty while doing so, antagonized him so greatly that even though he wore protective gear, he felt his body boil. Relief of the poisonous grip around his body was found in a clever way; his colleague Tricky tapped his heels and immediately took to the sky, a streak of lightning riding itself around the sole of his pixie boots thereby enabling such a hovering feat.

Reaching for his waist, Tricky pulled through the folded bags two black orb bombs as he had done before, grinning as he continued to march right on up the invisible stairwell he created. The first one thrown towards her was summarily shot down with a sharply discharged star bolt and while the second grenade was met with similar results it was significantly lower than that of where she hovered, sinking to her far left and thus within the range of possibly endangering the patron students of the evening. One star bolt and the bomb exploded into a swath of smoke and sparkling Christmas colours. It was on the return of her focus to the villain that she had realized that the second bomb was something of a trap, a distraction so that the villain could pull up something a little more damaging than what the mosquito bite bombs could do. It was a small blue capsule, not much longer than his palm and no thicker than his thickest finger. With a pitcher's throw, Tricky nailed the capsule straight on her chest where its casing instantly exploded, the blue ooze it carried bursting in in the only way it knew how along with it. The ooze expanded at such a rate it was that Nightstar was deeply astonished that such a small container was able to hold it so. It was a plaster shade of blue, almost play dough like in its appearance and acted similarly as so, formulating itself to her body as though a child's hands had come into play but were never quick able to hit upon every facet of her form. She tossed out her arms wildly and sniffed increasingly as she felt it bind to her stomach, depriving her of air. Each struggle proved only to make the transference of this ooze around her tighter but she steadfastly refused to give up. It was crawling up her neck, clinging to the strands of her hair, stifling out her star bolts, and solidifying around her toes; there appeared there to be nothing she could do and in the span of ten seconds following the capsule's breaking, she was fully absorbed in its oozing substance and cratering to the floor where she made such a bone crushing sound that even the audience felt in addition to their constraining fear, empathy for her as manifested in their legs.

* * *

"Nightstar!" Interval unleashed a harrowing cry upon gaining sight of Nightstar's crash, coming to a stuttering stop at the edge of the hallway he blustered right on through faster; though he moved faster than sound, he was still much to slow to prevent that all too disturbing crunch. He was stunned, rendered inert by the sight of the fallen star, sharing in on that strain of empathy that filtered through the crowd but reconciling it all in very different way than them for he knew her and was surprised in himself for caring. It was kind of care he previously believed himself to have of her, that of having use for her varied abilities, but rather something that he couldn't quite focus his brain upon just watch it was; that notion of empathy just continuously eluded him.

"Interval," a soft plea lodged itself into the speedster left ear drum where it festered with enough veracity to snap him out from his locked position. An alternate identity of his had been called upon and it instinctively drew him to search for the speaker, falling upon Jadelynn whom upheld her caterer's garb and persona while she seamlessly slipped through the conglomerate of bodies whom were now hurriedly following in behind those brave enough to try the exit doors and hallways. It was the name that she had spoken, the name associated to this costume he wore. He refused to acknowledge it but he knew exactly what Jadelynn saw: a hero. Regardless of her feelings about him, he still could not bring himself to move, instead clasping a palm to his face and shaking with great irritancy; fortunately, his hesitance may have indeed saved him from injury for Nightstar, though fully encased within a shell of hardened blue ooze, was about to make her move to freedom.

As Tricky approached the encased Nightstar he began to notice something quite intriguing. He had little experience with all this Trickster gadgetry, more so especially in the case of this silly putty like goo of which he knew from rumours and scarce documents that it was near unbreakable when fully formed and hardened. At this moment however, this grand ideal of being unbreakable was being put to the test for cracks of a vibrant violet hue were beginning to blossom all throughout her form with a primary focus being around the hands. As he inquisitively leaned in on the bend of his knees, it finally happened; the casing completely shattered throwing up in his face a multitude of shard like chunks that carried him into the air, all for the better it would seem for a bubble of intense violet energy boiled out from the floor like a nuclear reactor which, within seconds of the preliminary burst, exploded. The concussive wave, as generated through the outer remnants of the blast's power, carried the villain a significant distance into the air where he inevitably, after finding himself unable to make his magical boots active and get upright, came to crash upon the surface of a table, collapsing two of its legs thereby leaving him on the floor with an odd number of broken plates and silverware. The portion of the black marble floor where the explosion occurred had been turned into a crater, Nightstar's body lying within completely deprived of its life.

When the unnerving display of explosive energy had reached its conclusion, Interval's arms fell from their protective position over his eyes, "Nightstar," he whispered. In a split second he was at the edge of the foot deep crater and looking down upon her. He made some sharp, tightly wound breaths as he took a moment to analyze and assumedly begin to admire the cleansed state of her alien skin which stood in just the right amount of contrast to her predominant costume colour; she appeared absolutely fine on an external level. He suddenly dropped to his feet and reached his hands for her upper body, bypassing through the short sized white cape riding along her side to get to the shoulders, clawing in and pulling her upwards to himself. When her head inevitably slumped back his hand slipped in to support it in a flash. "Nightstar," he whispered once more and with a calm wave of relief, her solid coloured eyes shot open; however, there was something more, something overhead that she saw. Her face was absorbed in a state of panic, losing all its delicate tan with the stifling of breath. Interval need not to turn around to understand what it was she saw, he felt it at the back of his head: the barrels end of Heat Zone's pistol.

"Heroes on the hunt for villains, treating them like game," Heat Zone mumbled, "tell me, what does the hunter do when the game starts fighting back?" Death was on the horizon for the two young heroes and all they could do was listen to the crinkling of metal, that trigger, being slid back to order the firing mechanism. "Agh!" the villain roared in pain fused into confusion as the back of his flame shooting pistol expulsed its fuel along the breadth of his arm, lightning up just as fast with rampant flames he had originally sought to shove through the speedster's head. It was not long till his suit had served its purpose; the orange cord along his side erupted with white foam which proceeded to snuff out the flames. He spent the several seconds twisting his arm around, satisfied with the removal of the threat of being burnt but understandably disgruntled to find the cord which contained the fuel had been severed. When he proceeded to raise his head in full intention of finding the culprit, he was met with the boot of Interval, the young speedster delivering a kick much more troublesome than then the last; he was forced bum first to the ground and propelled towards the balcony wall once more. His head came to hit against the ledge of the table forcing the entirety of his upper body down so that he could snuggly fit beneath it; the crash at the end, against the solid surface of the wall, was anything but recovery safe or silent.

Interval nodded to Jadelynn, a toke of gratitude for having saved him. It was an odd kind of silence that ensued. He had fully intended to help Nightstar to her feet but was caught up in a strange aroma, something burning. Then his eyes were riveted open, "Nightstar," he made a mad dash towards the sunken Heat Zone where he proceeded to tear away at the boys costume, ripping away the fireproof suit so that the zippo pack he wore could be ejected from its position. With a firm boot on the boy's backside and a muscle tensing pull with both hands, the curvy orange bundle of fuel was free. His hands already felt like they were on fire when he turned around to retreat back to Nightstar. He took a brief moment to analyze it; the temperature readings on its top side were through the roof which was exactly where he believed was best to dispose of it.

Like she knew only from his eyes, the half-Tamaranean teen clasped the bottom half of the imploding bomb and held it tightly to her chest. Legs still a bit wobbly from the crunch of falling, she relied upon the tall speedster for support, his hands working upon her waist as fast as they could to get her airborne. Off she went in a trail of smoke and violet energy while Interval quickly worked on getting Jadelynn, Christopher and Miss Hayes out from the centre of the ballroom, quick snaps of speed with no more than a second required for saving. She bowed her head as she hit the foot-by-foot panels of glass enfranchised in the black steel framework of the ceiling. Successfully gaining altitude in the night time cloudy sky, she shovelled what little strength she had into the musculature of her right arm, letting the pack of near exploding fuel slump onto the edge of her fingers as she rotated it all in its entirety on the axis her shoulder joint. It was just in the nick of time. The explosion was a feisty assortment of orange flames that followed in rapid succession bubbling bursts of energy. All in all, the end result was a cloud amongst the already many though it was hard not to deny that this particular one was the darkest of them all.

"Are you alright?" Interval called up to the Nightstar as she hovered back down to him.

"Fine," Nightstar winced with a gulp. Her left leg was shaking uncontrollably and her face really showed the pain, "but if you don't mind, I'm going to stick in the air for a bit."

"Thank you," the sweet tipped voice of Chris drew Interval's attention. The artist proceeded to raise his hand to the hero, forming a closed smile that was above all the best he could offer in greeting given his shaken nerves. "It's not often that you get to meet a super hero," his eyes were extended as far as the socket could provide and could be described as being most sincere in their sadness. When Interval clasped his hand and shook it gingerly, a sensation of calmness embraced him, "although you look too much to young to be the Flash and decidedly less female…" his free hand wobbled to point towards the speedster's chest.

Interval glanced down at this chest where he caught in his eye the emblazoned logo that marked his association with a hero of quite notable esteem, at least those whom rode the lightning before the current one. "You're welcome," he stiffly spoke as his greeting hand dropped, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to provide safety for your work of art."

"Oh no," Chris gulped with a negative shake of his head, "my work is fine."

"Pardon?" Interval recoiled in puzzlement.

"What's going on?" Miss Hayes stepped up beside Chris, gently laying a hand upon his shoulder, drawing him to connect with her eye to eye, "are you alright Chris?"

"I'm fine," Chris responded, once more gulping down the frog that clung to his throat, "just have a small head ache is all."

"What do you mean?" Interval proceeded to prod for answers.

"I took the smart route," Jadelynn rose her chin in pride as she triumphantly stepped up to the three but this façade faded downward to one fourth of its former strength when the soaring Heroine above allowed herself to sink so as to be alongside Interval where she too could here an explanation, "I stole it," she smirked with a sniff, "figured that since no one's seen the work, well then the Rogues wouldn't care what they were burning as long as they thought it was what they wanted."

"I never thought my work needed such stringent security, but when I caught this fine lady in the act, well," Chris stepped in with his weakened voice, "she claimed she had good intentions and since I am rather gullible in these matters, I let her go. I assure you the rogue only burnt some wood and plaster, the real work is actually a lot smaller."

"Then where is it?" Interval crossed his eyes from Jadelynn to Christopher in rapid succession.

Jadelynn grinned, "I stored it on the caterer's trolley," she turned back towards the grouping of tables, taking to a swaying walk towards the catering carts that lined in behind, the own she drove in being at the end of the train and most notable for its blank white curtain top.

"It's a good thing you two were around," Miss Hayes turned to Interval and Nightstar with a relentlessly positive nod. She kept her voice moderately low, "it's a shame you two never got the opportunity to dance though. I think you both look like you would make a beautiful couple."

Mari suddenly gasped.

"What?" Interval suddenly found himself pondering what knowledge Miss Hayes held of him and Nightstar while she, coming to understand her slip in words, let her jaw drop as her eyes went into shock.

"Hey!" A disgruntled voice broke the moment. Everyone, including those patrons still cemented to their positions around the tables, found themselves looking upon a young woman whom held very similar features to Jadelynn albeit with longer silkier hair. She wore the dark jeans of the caterers but enjoyed a soft blue in her short sleeved shirt. To say that she was angry would be an understatement, "that's the girl who beat me up and stole my shirt! Arrest her!" She bellowed from the mouth of the hallway as she came to be joined by a multitude of armed people dressed in the slick blue with black, white, and gold features. Belts, badges, insignia, hand weapons; they were the police.

"I believe it would be prudent at this time if we left," Interval slid in beside Jadelynn grabbing her wrist just before her fingers could be used to displace the white cloth that rode overtop of the cart. With her in hand he returned back to Nightstar, grabbing her wrist with his other hand and within a flash, they were all gone, whisked away by way of super speed.

* * *

"Thank you Jadelynn," Interval weakly smiled as he turned to her. He had taken her along with Nightstar to a dingy brick laid alleyway that reeked of all things one could imagine to be in trash piles and maybe even more given that it was in fact still Bludhaven. For light they relied upon the street lamps of the street at each end, "perhaps I would have done well in modelling your approach, but for now," He laid a hand upon her shoulder and took in a deep breath, "thank you for saving my life."

"Well," Jadelynn grunted, "maybe if you drop this bimbo," she tossed a fist over her shoulder; thumb pointing back to the hovering Nightstar, "you can get back up to top speed. We could team up more often."

"Excuse me," Nightstar snarled.

Interval waved a hand up to his fellow super hero, acknowledging the sudden resentment in her eyes but held fast to his simple gesture, politely asking her to hold rage in check, at least for a moment. "Jadelynn," he said her name softly as he gave into a sigh, "why were you so desperate to help me? It's not that I'm not thrilled you were present…I really did mean it when I thanked you, but," he sighed once more, "but what happened here today could have turned out to be a lot worse than what it was. You could have been hurt."

"I can handle it," Jade responded in earnest, raising her face to encounter Interval in boldness, "what's it matter to you anyway?"

"Because I'd like to believe you to be a valuable friend," Interval hurriedly responded, "and in a scenario such as this, I would be at blame for anything that would have happened to you. I have to far too respect for John to let my presence be at the detriment to anyone he considers essential to his living, such as yourself."

"Well, he's fine with me doing what I want," Jadelynn continued in her uptight attitude.

"So you want to prove yourself to me is that it?" Interval questioned, sharply changing the mood of their ongoing discussion, "because I understand, I know you can handle yourself, you've got nothing to prove to me that you haven't already."

"I don't know," Jadelynn shrugged as her head slumped, shying away her eyes, "I thought maybe we connected the other day, when you told me about your father but then you run off with her," she shook a hand out flippantly towards Nightstar, "and suddenly it's like I don't matter, that I don't factor into anything you could have ever want," she shook her head, "I know that maybe we haven't known each other for very long but-"

"Of course you do," Interval cut in, "but in different ways. At that the time where we spoke, I needed someone whom I could talk to just as Nightstar is a valuable asset to my endeavours…" he paused for a moment, "in crime fighting," he concluded with much hesitancy.

"I thought maybe there was more?" Jadelynn gulped with the oncoming of her pondering statement, "just, I don't want to be just some person that you go talk to when you're sad. I'd like to see if there could be more between us."

"Oh," Interval's chin suddenly hit his chest; he knew full well what she meant, "I'm sorry," he suddenly popped right back up, "I don't feel that way."

"So, you're with her then?" Jadelynn's face winced.

"No, I'm with no one," Interval shook his head, "I don't feel that way for anyone. I never have."

"And what does she think about this?" Jadelynn snapped back into her poor attitude.

"I think of it fine," Nightstar hovered in lowly to Interval's side, "I am quite in line with my emotions and I'd like to believe I have a good understanding of those in my company," she calmly placed a hand upon Interval's shoulder, "he has feeling, I assure you, but it's in a far more different, more complex way that I doubt very much any one of us could understand."

For the duration of Nightstar's sentiments, Interval had his head hanging lowly but with her conclusion he rose and embedded his eyes with Jadelynn's and held there for several seconds in silence before deciding to speak, "that way you looked at me," he sniffed, "I think you've got me wrong…I'm not a hero, not like what the Flash is, nothing like Nightstar," he shook away the Heroine's hand as he stepped towards one of the alleyway walls, "she is right though, I do feel differently," he suddenly turned to them, "maybe I don't have friends, I only have assets to meet my goals."


	37. Interval 10

Interval #10  
Volume 1. Story 8.  
Hell is in the Details

If you've watched the Zeta Project, well, I enjoyed it and couldn't help but tie it in somehow.

* * *

In a single second, over ten miles had been covered on foot. To the common man this would be an extraordinary feat but for a speedster such as Interval it was nothing more than a leisurely jog, the stretching of legs in the early hours of the sun dipped cloudy day. The thick blades of grass that filled the fields of the outer city departed from their staunch ground support with the passing of each trampling foot, their crooked recoil to return to their upright stance inevitably becoming caught up in the pulling wake of his body. He was tall amongst his peers though not gangly in any strict sense, holding quite a fit physical frame that was perhaps in part gained through his connection to the illustrious Speed Force; his source energy for super speed. The defining scarlet red colour so embedded within the grandmaster of speed himself, The Flash, was a prominent part of this young speedster's costume, being that he was a far off distant relative. It was present in his shin high, shin conforming boots, his full fingered gloves that meagrely reached beyond his wrists and were tied down by two thick black straps, his full cowl piece that left only his mouth exposed, and the chest encompassing triangular piece that began along the ridges of his shoulders and diagonally cut on a narrowing path towards the centre of his waist line where it closed off with a flat head, breaking off to either side into a thin chain of lightning shaped cords that rode around like a belt. The rest of his suit was composed of a solid black. His ears were fitted with small silvery saucers from which an inch and a half long bolt of yellow lightning blistered off to the back of his head while his eyes were protected by goggle pieces tinted to a light yellow. The oft considered essential feature of the Flash, the logo, was a feature present at the centre of his chest; a circular of white within a raised black boundary line with a thick bolt of yellow streaking from one side down a diagonal line to another.

Contained within the lush of these dense spacious grass fields and sparsely wooded forests rungs that the hero dashed through and around was the West home, a classically furnished building that he had come to closely regard as a safe haven so long as he was company to this foreign era, the spurious identity of the twenty first century as opposed to the coherent straightness of his own twenty eighth century. The two story home itself was moderately long from the front but was admirably well in depth along the sides even though they were considerably shorter. The entirety of the first floor's front wall was pushed back several feet to produce a cumbersome dark wood porch setting that calmly sat beneath a straight lined overhanging roof as supported by a number of solid wood pillars. The only deviation from an otherwise flat face was an even sided trapezoid shaped pillar like construct to one side of the house which carried within its front broad side, at least in so far as the first floor was concerned, the large living room window. Above this window and the flat topped roof that towered atop the porch, the pillar departed from its solidity to create a sizable balcony space whose solid wood hand rail capped off at about stomach level. Two squared pillars sat atop the balcony's rail, one to each outer corner, carrying on their backs a triangular pointed top that slid back against the full body roof of the house which held a similar triangular shape only that it greatly eclipsed it in size for its centre point line ran from one side of the house to the other. A sliding door system was installed at the back of the balcony, currently closed and curtained with solid white just as it was so with the other block like windows so evenly aligned with one another across the rest of the home space. The home was painted a lukewarm kind of brown save for the wood of the porch's pillars, the window trims, the front door and its accompanying frame, and the three step stairwell that led up to the centre of the house towards the door, all of which were painted a burnt auburn. Two lines of wooded patches ran long either side of the home blocking view of the neighbours, providing them with a semblance of privacy they so often required with their lightning fast movements.

Up the three steps to the porch and a split second later he was inside the house having successfully vibrated all the molecules of his body to pass through the solid face of the door seamlessly. On his immediate left from just inside the doorway was a wall that nearly spanned the breadth of the house, cut off from full touch ahead by a bypassing wall that protected the inlet where the stairwell was enfranchised. There was also a slight hiccup to its complete smoothness all the way across: an entrance way to the kitchen. Two dark wood dressers, noted for their glossed pearl like smoothness and gold brushed palm grasping handles, lined along the wall with about a foot space in between each other. Their multiple drawers were most probably empty if not filled with random knick knacks whose purposes were lost to time; however, their tops were reasonably cluttered. Pictures spanning the lifetime of the West family were emplaced upon their tops; Jai, the muscle bound dark haired son, played a prominent role from youth to graduation as did his sister, the flamboyant red headed Iris although less frequently. Other photos were fitted along the wall following to the right of the stairwell entrance in addition to a clean topped cabinet of a value considerably lighter than that of the dressers. Its dual doors had windows emplacements thereby revealing within their containment an assortment of special plates and other dishes that were unified under one shared aspect: lack of use. The living proper began to his right with a step down from the hard wood floor to the soft white carpet, leading into a region composed of mostly thick plush couches whose green flavour fit amicably with the auburn brown taste of the walls. The couches were fitted into a square surrounding that of a cobblestone pillar that appeared very much like an old fashioned fireplace save that the fireplace portion was replaced with a modestly large flat screen television screen.

With his body returning to the natural flow of time upon a sound flat footed stop, he slipped two fingers beneath his mask, so as to cover both sides of his nose, and pulled upwards to reveal his unkempt blonde hair and creamy brown eyes which he proceeded to utilize in his survey of the living room and its accruements. When he wasn't running across the earth at excessive speeds, he was Jace Allen, an identity that was every bit as comparable in challenges to his life as Interval. The impeccable silence of surroundings seemed to suggest that he was alone this morning, a thought not too disturbing or unexpected given the usual work related reasons for why Jai and Iris would be out but when the phone rang with its illustrious chirp, he could not help but cry out one of their names, "Jai?" The continued moan of the phone beckoned him forward, slowly furthering himself into the house with ears syncing in on the waves of sound, inevitably taking him to the hallway mouth to his left side. "Jai?" he called out once more as his head turned in around the corner of the stunted hallway leading to the kitchen. He saw ahead of him the smaller dining room table, capable of sitting no more than six around its rectangular perimeter, with the simple flat grey box, the phone, sitting atop of its back. He was all but ready to rush to grab it after the sixth ring but declined his legs' desire to move for he rationalized after a split second of deliberation that a message saved to the answering machine would perhaps be more so beneficial to Jai or Iris than if he were to receive it and fumble in his reasoning for picking it up in the first place. But after the eighth ring, he began to wonder if there was even such an option on the table. At the ninth ring his eye brows quivered and his feet began to slowly but surely shuffle forward with the oncoming wave of curiosity.

The soft plastic state of the box like receiver rattled against the sides of its base when both of his hands furiously went to work upon it. The touch against his ear, along with that of his own voice, was beyond cold. "Hello."

"Jace Allen." The voice that shook through the speaker was inhumanly deep, filtered no doubt through some kind of augmentation device intended to cloak its user in the wretches of anonymity; however, considering that only so few people knew of his presence in this era, let alone the West home, discerning an identity was well within narrow walls of reasoning, still, it didn't hurt to ask.

"Who is this?" Jace tightened his grip around the squared edges of the phone as he leaned in his free hand against the table top where his eyes had spaced out into its glistening softwood material.

"Jace Allen." The voice continued to bellow. "I've found the way."

"Found the way?" Jace proceeded to enter a state of puzzlement.

"Found the way home."

Jace's straightened up his back as he allowed himself to blink for the first time since picking up the phone, "home?" he prodded for greater clarification.

"The twenty-eighth century. You can restart your experiment from the pivotal access point."

"What are you talking about?" Jace suddenly snapped into speed speak.

"The twenty-eighth century." The voice repeated. "I know we believed that Max Mercury had either covered or broken off all access ways through the Speed Force. But there is one. The one I've created. But I need your help to sustain it."

"What? You've done what?" Jace winced, "who is this?" his usual monotone cracked, becoming stern with a second attempt to affirm an identity with a single, decidedly simple question. This time however, he recognized himself to be completely shattered of any preconceived notion that he might know whom it was he was talking to and as such felt numb, strangely out of touch with his own being. It was knowledge that could only be ascertained through questioning but with the reluctance of this voice to heed his prodding, it was likely he would be left without answers, a truly irritable state of mind for a compulsive one such as his.

"I'll provide you with passage. But first I need you to do something for me." The voice continued without a moment's break to breath.

"What did you create?" Jace turned to pleading.

"I need you to go to this address. 1553-4U Manapul Road."

"That's a local address," Jace shook his head, "who are you?" he made one last, desperate attempt.

"You've done a very fine job so far in keeping yourself out from the public eye, especially given recent activity. That was very wise of you. But not entirely unnecessary." The voice's compliment passed unrecognized by Jace; he was far too involved with the tenor of the voice, in search of any imperfections. "Don't give up just yet on your goal. I'm counting on you."

"Hello?" Jace cried out with a whimper but to no response. The phone had gone silent and he was once again alone to his own thoughts.

* * *

The indicated address brought him to a plot of land that held in common many aspects with the West's yard. The blades of grass were fleshed out to a most desirable length and sported a spattering array of green shades, all of which sprouted from a marsh like layer that fermented beneath the soles of his foot, each step becoming buried in its soft dark soil. The trees were smartly furnished in their pine leaves, their wooded basses forming something of a forest strip along the sides of the field's focus, that being a single part house which at its best could only be properly described as a ramshackle of a mess. From the outside it was a single floor rectangular shaped building, long along the broadsides while almost miniscule in depth; there couldn't be more than three decently sized rooms within. Its sides were comprised of wood aligned into planks about a foot thick, each successive one from the ground being ever so slightly atop the one below thereby creating quite the angled texture. The roof opted for coarse black tiles all laid down on an angle towards the front of the house, a straight lined right angle therefore being at its support at the back. It could be imagined that at some point in its prime this building was painted in a pristine tone of white but several decades had certainly taken its toll and most of that imagined pristine flavour had turned sour with splotches of yellow and scuffs marks of black all through its form.

As he approached the building he could not help but find himself within the shade of the absolutely garish looking tree planted to the house's side. It was alone in its distinction to the forest, not only for its close proximity to the house but also in its make, being something of a heavy oak tree more akin to sprouting leaves than pine needles. Those leaves, however, did not exist. The tree was old and grey, weary and decrepit, appearing as though it had not spread its bloom in many a seasons but of that, it needed not its leaves or vigour in its bark to make its lasting impression for its branches were solid in their snake like appeal, weaving up into the sky with criss-crossing tails that inevitably came to form a globe of mangled arms whose job it was to blot out the sky of which it did handsomely.

About two thirds to his right, within the frame of the house, was the front door. Its dark wood façade inspired a strength that did not exist, being nothing more than a hollow construct poorly fitted within rubber lines of the frame. The round brass door knob was no exception to house's overall form, its metal tone showing signs of severe wear, faded at the top of its point and along the sides of which fingers were expected to wrap. As the young speedster stepped up to this door, he became uncertain as to whether he should knock first or proceed to enter, deliberating that decision with his eyes transfixed upon the knob. With a light grasp and a twist, the door swung inward with a deafening creak.

The interior was dark, not a single window along the sides to provide lighting thus forcing him to rely upon what little illumination the open door provided. What he could discern was that the largest portion of the house, that being to left side from just inside the door, was a single room that was consistently barren through to all its corners. His right side however was protected by a wall that spanned across the floor with only a brass knobbed door to its name no more than a stride away from its front outdoor facing brother. There was only one furnishing to this place, a table, and upon this table was a phone not all too dissimilar to the box grey plastic one at the West's home. He was understandably startled when the phone unleashed a volley of rings, the shock of its suddenness and the disease of its mysterious randomness all playing havoc on his shattered, at least for the moment, confidence of mind. He restrained himself admirably as he stepped up towards the table, calmly pawing one hand upon the receiver, "hello?" he coldly whispered.

"Jace Allen." That deep augmented voice returned in force. "It is good that you have made it so soon. I have something I need you to do for me."

"Who is this?" Interval cried.

"I need you to go to the basement."

"Why?" his breaths became shallow as he uneasily shook from the supporting strength of one leg to the other as was needed to calm his nerves.

"The basement Jace. The door to your right."

He stubbornly turned to look to the door signified by the voice.

"I need you to go to the basement Jace. Take the first tool you see."

He nodded to the orders as though he were being watched.

"Then go back to the yard. Find the old oak tree. Dig in."

He waited for the voice to continue but with the elapse of several seconds passing in numb silence he admitted with a dissatisfied sigh that the eerie conversation was over and done with. After holstering the phone on its base, he made his way towards the basement door with a struggling walk, either having forgotten the unparalleled speeds at which his feet could move or forcibly restricting himself in order that there be as much precaution as possible in his approach; he would be ready, that was certain. He clasped his hand around the door's brass knob when in reach and twisted it with just enough force to unlatch its interior mechanisms. Every step down the aged wooden stairwell elicited a pressured moan and distanced from its crevices an expanse of dust that tickled his tongue with dryness. He reached his outer hand for the wall in an attempt to acquire some balance as he continued the descent into dark dwelling hole that was the basement, fingers dragged down its coarse concrete face till they had encounter what felt to be a small metal switch box with his final step to the floor. A simple tip of his index finger and the thick plastic switch flipped upwards. In a near instance the basement dwelling was provided with some adequate lighting in the form of a single bulb hovering beneath a black saucer plate that hung from the ceiling by way of a slithering thin lined chain. It could have been refreshing, a source of a light for a place so usually steeped in darkness, but on this occasion, all it did was sought to remind the room of its barrenness, the coldness of its shallow grey floor and encompassing walls.

It was there. A tool used for digging, a shovel, leaning up against the wall just a few steps forward of the stairs. Its wooden handle was long, firm and glossed over in a preservative while its metal head was cleanly washed to shine and shaped like a wide brimmed spade; perhaps it was the only thing in decent shape on this entire lot. He pulled his hand from the wall and clutched the tubular handle and in the same movement returned his attention to up back the stairs. He retraced his steps outside and started over towards that haunting tree, its arms blotting out the cloud covered sky. He slammed the point of the spade ended shovel into the marsh of grass just a few steps shy of the tree's trunk. One stab after another, moist soil arose up within the spade head's low level basin and was summarily chucked in behind him to create a disorganized mess of mush. The chips of tree roots and grass blades mixed in the moist soil began to look like human sinew over the course of thirty or so loads. When he gave greater recognition to the spoils of human fresh, he discovered just why.

The body was lacking in any substantial meat; thin, frail, gangly, shrivelled…elements ascribable to this disturbing find. The body was cold in its features. Colours outside of the standard slate grey pigmentation were only those in the extremities of that standard shade and were sparsely located in its face; a heavy brush of baby blue along the lips and chapped white on the cheeks and below the eyes like half-moons. The hair was long and dark in addition to being coarse and diseased, the results of having been buried in a layer of dirt for what must have been over a month. The primary option of clothing was dirt stained white lab coat that buttoned up several times along the centre line of the torso and curved around the cut off line of the knees. When Interval had found something silvery shined on the body's chest, he tossed the shovel to the side and dropped to his knees, using his hands to part away the rest of the dirt from the body all while avoiding its sightless white glare and yawning mouth. "Tristan Cuthbert," he mumbled to himself as his thumb swept away the smudges of the name tag, "Tristan Cuthbert," he repeated, reading aloud the black lined lettering. "Tristan Cuthbert," he repeated one more time as though he was afraid of forgetting.

"Jace?" a static laced cry of his name caught the young speedster off guard. He immediately jumped up onto his feet and slammed up his right hand to the side of his face, cupping his ear just below the jagged lightning bolt. It was Iris, "Jace? Jai and I need you at the XS laboratory now…Jace?"

Interval shook his head as he worked through the dryness of his mouth to respond, "yes. I'm on my way."

"Hurry."

"Tristan Cuthbert," he mumbled one last time as he retrieved the shovel and proceeded to rebury the body. At lightning speed, he slipped the spade underneath each pile of soil he discarded earlier and brought it back to the hole where he packed its crumpled form down on level with the rest of the yard. When he had completed the burial and returned the shovel back to where he acquired it, he ran straight off for XS laboratory.

* * *

On his approach to the XS Laboratory building, Interval noticed a suspicious looking vehicle sitting in the parking lot. At its basest description, it was big and bulky. The front was essentially a giant globe of hard plastered green, cut in half and glued on to a long heavily plated posterior section shaped like a standard caravan though, at the very least, three times the standard size. Encircling the connection line of the globe and the connecting van piece was a thick dark grey bracket modelled like a piece of armour that snuggly fit around the vehicle's basic frame. The portions it protected, along with the encircling of the connection line, included what would be an eye covering visor around the front of the globe, if in fact it could be viewed as a face, and the majority of the vehicle's roof, the edges around the van being particularly thick. Along the sides the armour was particularly long in passing to the back, reaching enough across to fit a full sized door. Where the armour did not reach a soft palette grey filled in the rest. This particular section was notable for the solid wings on each side that began at about mid-level and slanted towards the ground. At the very end of these wings were box like engines about a half foot thick while being six feet long, running parallel to the vehicle proper. The front of these engines had three holes that contained within a series of blades and various technological devices that formed powerful turbines; it enable the vehicle to fly. Such a capability meant that either its owner was extremely wealthy and able to purchase a licence to man this craft or, as he figured more likely, it belonged to some government agency.

The front room of the lab was quite spacious in its size if not divided to a varying degree. Immediately inside the dual sets of sliding doors that made up the front entrance way was a partial cage of foot-by-foot hard plastic transparent window boxes that held to a full story before levelling straight off; the absence of a ceiling to itself prevented the cage from being wholesome in form. Directly ahead of this cage was a sizable pillar like construct that ebbed out smoothly from the wall. At the front of this pillar was a thick chrome plated door that lead into the gymnasium sized room where projects and experiments of grand size took place, so, when the projects were of a small variety, they were regulated to this front room. To either side of the dividing line formed by the cage and pillar were square shaped rooms lined from wall to wall with desk space that carried upon their backs a variety tools, scanning devices, and research projects of mechanical affairs. Running along the walls on the edge of the desk were monitors screens which displayed blue prints and diagrams of the research projects currently being worked upon, though, as it appeared to be the case of many such projects, they had not experienced a hand in development since their primary innovator left this realm of existence. The place was spotless in its clean white colour, the only differentiation being the sporadic blue shades that infected the monitor screens.

"Agent Bennett, if this has anything to do with the Hyperguard and those people they killed; I want you to know that it's been dealt with, [INT#7-9]" Iris stated as she exited the pillar's door, letting its thick breadth close in behind her with a whispering slam. She was a tall, slender woman with noteworthy hair; long, silky and fiery red, at current pulled back and tied into a tail that first arched at the back end of her head before falling flat against her backside. She wore something of a one piece skin tight black suit though abstracted from full view by a haphazardly fashioned scarlet red shirt which itself was supplanted further by her black leather like jacket whose gold edge buckles she left to fly around as she moved. She nimbly made her way to her left, entering the section where a group of five had formed, two of which she recognized as being close confidants: her brother Jai and their government liaison, Robert Atman.

Jai was a person noted for his muscular physique, certainly unparalleled to any of his relatives despite not being a member of those innately connected to the Speed Force in a way that would grant him a fraction of its power. His hair was short and dark, his eyes equally as shaded. At current, he wore a tight flex fitting baby blue short sleeved shirt and long velvety blue track pants with a single white circle striped line running down each leg. As a noteworthy journalist, when it came to persons in suits, especially of the government variety, he adopted a scowl and a demeanour of antagonism characterized in the bulge of his arms as they crossed over his chest. The only government stooge he never met with scepticism was their government stooge, Robert.

Robert was a slim gentleman with a straight jaw, wide angled cheeks, bushy eyebrows that all worked well in form with his slick jet black hair. The government stooge that he was saw him rarely without an impressionable suit. At current, he wore a sleek black suit with a thick collard white shirt that cut into a square at the bottom of his neck. With an often held genial smile that accentuated his clean lips, he was quite the good looking specimen despite his job being deemed menial by the West family.

"That is not what I've come to discuss," Agent Bennett was a tall man with wide squared shoulders that modelled well with the straight line of his jaw and cheek lines. His strong brown hair was perfectly cut, circled to the cornering peaks of his forehead and pristinely flat across the top. He wore a lighter suit than Robert, nearly grey, with the jacket portion having barely noticeable lapels that rode down from the sides of his neck on diagonal lines to the centre of his chest, closed off with a pristine triangular point. The only noteworthy feature of the shirt was its nearly slate colour, its half-inch flat collar simply blending up from the shirts bulk. "The NSA has conducted its research into the incidences and has affirmed the extent of your involvement…or lack thereof." His voice was sharp; perfectly fitting to a man who was serious at all moments of the day. Additionally, there was one particular feature to his wear that could not go unnoticed: the straight topped green tinted glasses.

Agent Bennett was not alone; there were two other agents within his company, wearing similarly fitting suits though lacking in those authentically attached glasses. One was a man in his late twenties with a strong slash of red hair that nearly matched Iris's though not nearly as vibrant. With his arms crossed and lips puckered into one another, he appeared to have a desire intimidate but perhaps had overshot himself considering his meagre frame compared to Jai's. In this regard, he simply seemed to be incompetent and quite possibly a klutz. The other agent was a woman of a stronger standing than her colleague. Her hair was lacy and black, curled into bunches all along her scalp while her eyes were the deepest of browns. Though she wore a similarly styled suit, the shirt she wore beneath her jacket was explicitly purple.

"Then why are you here?" Iris grumbled, understandably upset by Agent Bennett's underlying meaning, as she stepped in between her brother and confidante to stare the Agent down.

"Two things," Bennett took in a deep whiff of air, "that may perhaps be interconnected."

"What's going on?" Interval slowly turned out from the cage, somehow blustering pass the front entrance without so much as a rattle to his footsteps. As he stumbled over to Jai's side, he could not help but stare down the foreign figures in the room, the NSA agents, recognizing the shade of black that infected their jackets as being attributable to a friend of his.

"Is this the boy?" Bennett sharply looked upon Interval as the young speedster came to a stop.

"Jace," Iris nodded to Interval with a gulp. She tossed out a hand towards the three agents, "this is Agent Bennett of the NSA. He wanted you here-"

"Yes," Bennett cut in. He took in a deep breath, the kind that asserted the confidence he had in this peculiar situation, and padded his hands down his jacket as he returned the majority of his attention to Iris with only few periodic glances to the younger speedster, "several years ago an agent of ours defected from the agency, John Thermos." Interval's eyes widened for a brief moment but managed to maintain a solid form to his body, most unwilling to convey that he may know something, "since then, he's mostly been specializing in black market sales; weapons, access codes…" he nodded into the etcetera, "we believe as recently as four months ago, he was commissioned to construct a computer chip that would grant access to the global weather monitoring system from which control of the satellite network can be obtained." He paused for a moment, "he's very clever with security systems, but not nearly as technological enabled or knowledgeable to hack into the global weather network. He had to consult an outside source, Doctor Tristan Cuthbert." Interval raised his chin to look away as his breath became shallow, his form collapsing for the first time, "she disappeared two months ago. We have reason to believe that John Thermos is responsible and that he is currently residing in Keystone City."

"And you want me to find him?" Iris questioned in puzzlement.

"What's going on?" Interval stepped in with a loss of wind.

"Have you looked at the sky recently?" Bennett posed an almost rhetorical question.

Jai shook his ahead, blinking sporadically as he slipped into the deep recesses of his mind, "it's been cloudy for over a week. No rain," his voice trailed off weakly to the end while his eyes bolted open, coming to stare blankly at the line of agents.

"The chip has already been implanted in the system, starting at a station in Hub City. The chip had a encoded worm that festered in the system for some time before spreading to all weather stations and satellites," Bennett firmly nodded his head, "those aren't clouds in the sky. It's methane."

"Methane?" Interval whispered.

"No more than twenty years ago when the planet was utilizing combustion engines we could have very well had fire in the sky," Bennett continued, "but today its passed off as being under control, a minor passing of a heat wave. If regulated properly, this current state of partial coverage can be managed for several years, but worldwide, we're looking at under a week of survival."

"That's not possible," Interval scoffed, "there are not enough stations or satellites to support a worldwide enclosure of methane clouds."

"They're being built," Bennett snapped, "that first station to receive the worm was owned by The White Queen, a weather company that appeared no more than three months ago. It has bought up a multitude of blank lots across the world to further advance these efforts. Our own efforts to shut them down…well, let's just say my superiors aren't not on the same standing. I know it's a shell corporation; all that need be done now is to locate its true source. If we find John Thermos, we figure out just what exactly is going on."

"How do you know that he's in Keystone City?" Iris prodded.

"It's where he was last spotted," he slipped a hand into his jacket and worked away at a pocket on the interior side, "he was spotted at a diner on Gardner Street. We managed to acquire his persons before our van was toppled over by a meta-human being [INT#6]," a thin nearly transparent panel was pulled out from his jacket, understood to be a palm held computer from which he proceeded to read off of once it lit up with an illustrious electronic blue, "described as male, in their early twenties, and possessing super speed and the ability to phase through solid objects," he took in a heavy breath as his eyes, along with everyone else fell upon Interval, more inquisitive than ready to convict.

"Jace? Were you involved in this?" Iris prodded the boy for answers but he remained silent.

"It matters not if he admits to interfering with NSA operations," Bennett shook his head slightly, "we have video evidence of another incident this speedster was involved in. We found the setting to be quite odd by this point. As soon as the chip was constructed, the entirety of the underworld appeared to be in an internal battle against one another for acquiring it. Every week, there was a new mobster rising to replace the one just killed. But we don't believe they knew exactly what the chip was for, not like John did. His conscience was probably getting the best of him, knowing full well of his buyer's intention to destroy the planet. He had already made the sale but managed to convince the middle man of its falseness. The black market was soon swamped with fake chips that internally fried when used. It made its true location in addition to the failures of fake chips made it all that more confusing for the underground. A large minority of these fake chips were linked to obsolete missile silos which seem to be the current belief held by the underworld as being the chip's real purpose. Probably believe the idea was to hold planet at ransom." After one more slide of his thumb against the palm held handle, he raised it up to the company of Jai, Iris and Robert, to take a gander at the displayed video, "this happened at a testing ground in Minnesota. A crime boss in the northern syndicate, whom we believe to be the boss of the middle man in John's transaction, attempted to test the chip…" he briefly paused, "I've had to slow down the clip."

There were several figures in dark jackets within a damp, dungy, certainly decades old housing unit for a single missile entrenched in the ground. There was one figure amongst them that Interval readily recognized as having encountered before, a tall, muscular being in full black armour , whose noted uniqueness came from the red 'V' that was superimposed on his face plate. When they had encountered one another, he was called the Vigilante. Several seconds into the video however brought forth another figure that he had seen before; it was himself, or at the very least, himself in another era, dimension or any other number of possibilities he had been tossing around to explain this speedster's presence. The costume was similar in design to that of his own but tweaked in its colour arrangement, possessing the most delicate of blues in replacement of scarlet red and a pristine white in replacement of his gritty black. This speedster rapidly fired across the camera's sight of vision, back and forth all over the screen, tearing through the gangsters with ferocious swiping moves of his fists and feet. When he came to encounter Vigilante there was a bit of a struggle, but not one that the speedster could not handle with ease. In short time, Vigilante was pinned to the floor with the speedster standing over top of him. If his posture was anything to judge from, the speedster was gloating.

Interval stumbled forward in his focus, hand flexed and ready to snatch the shine panel from Bennett's hand. The agent stared at him nonchalantly as he drew closer, allowing for their hands to meet lest the young speedster's wandering feet prove incapable of supporting him to his height. Successfully snatching the device with both hands, Interval turned to his right, aimed towards the wall which he proceeded to step towards with his head bowed lowly. The video replayed once more within the privacy of his eyes, "it's not me!" he gasped.

"I beg to differ," Bennett asserted himself forward.

"What are you trying to accuse him of?" Iris stepped in with a gentle taste to her tongue.

"Interference with an NSA investigation, harbouring information about a wanted fugitive, harbouring information regarding a threat to security," Bennett maintained his stone expression, "among other accusations, but you get the gist."

Interval suddenly turned around, somewhat feeble in posture and weak in articulating his voice, "I don't believe video evidence is enough to indict me…especially considering that an identity has not be affirmed beyond doubt."

"Then you are mistaken," Bennett fired off at Interval, "we're the NSA. You're a foreigner to this world and you qualify as a Meta-Human, you don't have rights save for the ones we grant you out of pity which I can assure you that we do not."

"He's a part of this family," Iris scowled, "I agreed to cooperate with your research programs-"

"No you didn't," Bennett cut in with a renewed thunderous persona, "your father did," he entered into a staring war with Iris, "and the lack of involvement on your part since his passing has been abysmal at best. Now I don't expect him to cooperate willingly, clearly, you can kill us now if you wish," he shook out his hands as though to goad them into doing so, "just know that you need us to keep whatever it is you do here alive," he shirked his arms back to his sides, "you need us more than we need you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Iris clamped down her jaw, unwilling to let her eyes wander under the pressure.

"As NSA understands it, you and your brother here have been holding out on us," Bennett slipped back into his normal tone of discourse, "your refusal to authorize our scientists to look at Velocity 9."

"For good reasons," Iris bolstered herself up.

"I know, I've read Mr. Atman's report…it's not good enough," Bennett scolded with a soft stare towards the barely responsive Robert, "we've found someone who's more willing to work with us. He's managed to synthesize a Velocity serum."

"What?" Iris's eyes suddenly widened with the breaking of her posture of intimidation.

"But that's not all you've been holding from us, is it?" Bennett rhetorically questioned, "our man believes you to be in the possession of the Cobalt Blue Gem." Both Iris and Jai felt their legs twitch in discomfort, their bodies tempted to sweat as Bennett sought to continue, "you're family has done a lot for this city, I grant them that but for you, I hope that you will be willing to work with us rather than against us, especially in a time such as this. Provide us with the gem or we will do more than just pull your funding." Iris held her silent scowl, pulling her head away from Bennett best she could without losing eye contact, "we'll be in close touch…and we may just call in the boy for questioning." And with the evident finality to his words, Bennett snatched his panel back from Interval's hand and signalled his agents to follow in behind. They entered the cage of windows as a unit, walking down its length to the fogged sliding doors which slid inward of their slots accordingly to their presence. For those watching them it felt like an eternity, but overall, it was a reasonably quiet exit that passed in less than a minute's time.

"What's the Cobalt Blue Gem?" Robert propped up a brow.

"You have it?" Interval took in a deep breath, rattled to the bone, "where…where is it?"

"What is it?" Robert looked over to the shocked Interval.

Interval shook his head in a negative manner while his voice lent itself nicely to stuttering, belittled with uncertainty, "I don't really know…I've only read about it."

Iris groaned with a rapid fire shake of her head, "first things first," she pulled herself together, "Jace? John Thermos was the man who helped us against the Hyperguard, right?" but Interval just looked at her blankly, "what have you gotten yourself into?" she questioned with a heavy breath.

Interval gulped with a short order sniff, "I have to go." Four words spoken and his super speed took over, vibrating his body to unimaginable levels, allowing him to pass through the nearby wall with ease. He was gone.

"Where is he going?" Robert continued to cry in confusion, becoming quite desperate, "What is going on here?"

"Robert," Iris slammed her hands against the man's chest, pulling him towards herself with both hands gripping the lapels of his jacket, "I don't care what it takes," she voice rolled like devastating fire, "we need to talk to this young savant, now!

* * *

"You've been lying to me," Interval's voice was a slithering whisper though holding a ferocious sharpness that was fully audible, "when we first met at that diner. It wasn't the criminal underworld targeting you, it was the NSA. It's happening now. You're still searching for that chip." He took a commanding step forward, lifting his thick soled boot from the sheering grip of the grated metal plated floorboard before him with a subtle rattling, and slamming it down upon the base of a rather spacious tubular shaped booth. The booth's seamlessly round fitted wall, sized to a single story, was immersed in a pristine coat of white while its floor stood to be thickly coated rubber in a very earthly flavoured orange; despite evident exuberance attached to these shades a colours, the booth was quite subdued in life, characterized as looking to be damp and dreadfully dreary. That metal plated floorboard just past was situated in a way to form the center line of this small complex he currently occupied, starting from the entrance way at one side to the other where a booth of similar face to that of the one described closed off the end, a single door enfranchised there, blending seamlessly with the wall. There was another booth, located across the broad length of the pathway from the booth he came to occupy, its presence now to his backside; it was practically empty save a long plastic white topped table and four chairs, two to each side. "You've seen the footage of the theft," this particular booth, as compared to the other two, was noted for being the central computer hub of the small complex. Wedged deeply into its curved sides was a large thin lined monitor screen, the kind that relied more so upon the intricate working of holographic synapses and laser lines as opposed to a pixelated screen. Beneath the screen was a plastic stone white coloured table with a myriad of glowing blue lined devices, the least of which being several keyboards and touch screen pads no bigger than a hand. "You think I'm the one who stole your computer chip, perhaps that I am the one behind what's happening with the weather or that perhaps I work for the person who is. That's why you've invited me in so easily…."

"I had to be certain…" it was a growling even-tempo voice; the kind that arose from a clenched chest that buried its lung capacity within the lowest recesses of the stomach. The source was a wide shouldered man whose muscles were toned to a fashionable massive girth, matched well to the military persona that modelled itself in a blend of obedience and possibly arrogance to his rigid posture. At current, he was hunched over the table, hands spread out along its sharply cut edges. "I had to be certain," he slowly turned around, hands dragging in a stutter back to his sides as he did so. He was a man of a dark façade, with a clean shaven face, hair shortly cut to the scalp and fittingly black, cheek bones bulging out to strong points and flowing down to a chiselled chin, and dark wooden eyes that rarely allowed the relief of renewed moisture that came with a blink, "that you weren't involved in any of this." The suit he wore sharply fit that of the NSA agents though in a more so tardy in shape compared to those whom the young speedster had met recently. With a shrivelled face expression, one of displeasure, he looked upon him. His name was John Thermos.

"And this is why you've acquired a satellite imagining network, so you can keep a track of my movements," Interval boldly moved in with an accusation, "telling me so that perhaps to deter me from aggravating the situation further."

"Even if The Flash had the capability to commit to this atrocity," John circled his arms around his back, "she and her family have shown a love for this city that no other can compare. Historically speaking, it seems to me that she would do all in her power, even if that be the sacrifice of her own life, to protect this city from an impending capitulation. But you…you probably know this better than I." A brief pass of silence spilled over their voices before John could push forward, "of what I know of you is that you are different era, a place in time far beyond this. You don't even call this planet home. I know not of the reason for your being here."

"I'm not here by choice," Interval fired off with a stern glare, "I don't have a reason for why I was left here. I don't know."

"But I'm sure it was your instrumental reasoning that led you here," John bolstered up his bottom lip with a slight raise to his chin, assuming somewhat of a domineering attitude within his eyes, "everything, everyone, they're all factors, instruments, that you use to achieve your own ends. I've studied time travel cases before. Each story seems to be characterized by the same events. Something terrible happens in their past, and they'll do just about everything to stop it even if that means changing some events in the past, possessing little if any comprehension of what they are disturbing. I reckon that something of that tune happened to you."

Interval took in a deep sniff whilst working his nerves away at the clout of animosity that steadily began to riddle the forefront of his head, deeply affecting his common strain of thought, the reasoning, that John so candidly pointed out, "are you prepared to accuse me of my involvement?"

"I've seen the footage, I've studied it," John's arms suddenly twisted around to his front, crossing over and clutching tightly with a coarse rubbing sound emerging on account the jacket's cloth. His face was like stone, "I've also studied you. Your physical dimensions are generally consistent with one another and that costume…it's a match in all but colour. Now that you've seen it…would you have not suspected it to be yourself? Have you not already?"

"Yes," Interval relinquished the knot of breath in his chest with a blushing expulsion and a straightforward nod.

John took a soft step towards Interval, "perhaps then, this incident is a part of your quest to master the tidal waves of time?"

"I've thought of it…" Interval gulped, turning away his head, "I suppose it's not entirely unheard of in the community I travel with. Even the costume…thread compositions can be changed through vibrating the strands, colour included." He padded his hands down his chest, "This costume was fitted to be resistant to friction. It's the only reason why I wear it. But it was given to me by a monstrosity of my own making [INT#2] and now that I've seen this arrangement, the future…it's a sign of rebirth," his head shook on the point of his neck that wobbled the most, "I want him to be me."

"Why?" John sharply growled, asserting himself forward.

"He's faster," Interval suddenly locked eyes with John, legs locking up at the knee joints, "faster than me. He's powerful. He can travel through the time stream on a whim, overcome any paradox just by being, while I," he knelt his head momentarily, lending his voice to several seconds of silence in the process, "I need help."

"And what would your future self see to benefit from bringing the planet to an end?" John returned to his cautious, even-tempo voice.

"I don't know," Interval snapped, wilding chucking out his hands, "what could I possibly earn from this? You have all that satellite imaging connected on me, you have at the very least vague knowledge of my activities, has any of it furthered your suspicions of me?" he continued to shake his head in a negative manner, "You got to believe me, I wouldn't do this," a difficult gulp cycled down the drain of his throat, "at least, I don't think I would. Not now."

"I know," John politely smirked, coming to sound more pleased by comparison to his more distraught tone held only moments ago. Interval looked up at him with pondering eyes, "it couldn't have been easy for someone like yourself to place the lives of others before your own." His voice came across as almost jovial, fitted to a widening grin, "you took responsibility for your actions," he nodded approvingly, "and Jadelynn got to telling me about what happened with that Tamaranean girl…you care, whether you'd like to admit it to yourself or not [INT#9]." He began to chuckle, "for the first time in your life, you've actually made friends. That's probably why you were so open to coming here time after time, looking for help, you wanted someone to speak with on your own level and far be it for me to be arrogant, but I do believe you've found that in me."

"What exactly are you accusing me of?" Interval remained utterly baffled.

"Of having a conscience," John's brow straightened for a moment, "and a good one at that." He calmly walked up to the young speedster, gently raising a hand to place upon his shoulder, "you don't know the reason why you're here, but maybe this is it," he shook his shoulders, "you've learnt a lot about yourself since you've come here, haven't you?" His hands slipped from their grasp, returning harmlessly to their appropriate sides as he returned his attention back to the computer, "I only wish that I could have sooner, for my own sake."

"Do what sooner?" Interval walked up to his side.

"Learn. To take responsibility for what I've enabled, for what I've done," John gasped. He proceeded to tap the tops of his fingers against one of the panels that laid amongst others on the cluttered table top, noted for the its glassy surface and thin neon blue perimeter line. In an instance the main screen fitted within the curvature of the wall arose in a lively electronic blue, the holographic network booting up into its proper display before finally solidifying on a satellite image of Keystone city seconds later, separating its whole into small boxed sections by a hair line of black. Stretching across the upper part of the screen, riding a line from the top to the right side thereby cutting out the upper right corner, was the Mississippi river, addressed in the most devilish of teals and blues. The interior of the city that stretched along its coast was shaded in the most enduring grey colours of modernity, spreading forth its influence to the bottom left corner in increasingly smaller portions, weaving through the standard greens of grass and the earthly tones of clay. From this particular view, the city appeared quite fine if not entirely plain; its true character however, the part it played in this story, failed to be revealed. "My conscience has been faulty since before I realized that I may just have one. It's a tragic shame that all those months ago I had forgotten I had it. Now it's eating at me, ravaging the partial remnants that one might call a soul…."

"As I understand it, in this time period, small arms, the kinds of hand operated weapons you usually deal in, have taken more lives than weapons of mass destruction," Interval's stepped back to his informative monotone for but a statement all while mentally shrugging his shoulders.

"And now that I've created something at a level comparable to mass destruction being used as we speak?" John tapped the pad one last time, and suddenly several navy blue circles the size of thumb prints popped up on the screen, two most local to the interior of the city with the majority of others accosted to the outskirts; evident to both parties in view, they were weather stations that corresponded with their a network of satellites serving to keep natural systems in check, augmenting them was necessary to maintain a peaceful plain of existence on the planet below.

"How can you claim to have a conscience?" Interval's voice took to a negative bent, "have a good one at that?"

"But he does," a foreign voice caught the two off guard, immediately beckoning their eyes to look to their backsides, catching face with a girl creeping around the corner. Her hair was black and lacy though abstracted of such soft value as it was tied up in a bun at the back of her head. Her chin angled to a point of ease providing a strong base for a symmetrical outline that was best conveyed in her tear blue dotted eyes and tiny flat nose. She wore a jumpsuit of sorts, enticing nearly the entirety of her body in a thick silky black material that cut short only at the bulbs of her wrists and in a triangular point down the centre of her neck. She was Jadelynn, in the care of John since she was a child. "He's not firing the gun," she stepped up onto the base, trailblazing her way to their collective, "chop that up to the immoral dregs he sells to." She immediately rushed up to John, clasping her hands together as she touched his solid chest, "you've taken care of me, taught me everything I know. I've never met another man so wholesome in his goodness, so strict to his moral ethic."

"No, but he's right," John calmly responded, returning quickly to his computer layout. Jadelynn swiftly slipped up to his side opposite Interval, "I've ignored any conception of real morals for the better half of my career. It's always been morals for proper business, there had to be honour amongst the criminal underground or nothing could be accomplished, that's all that I was a part of," The tips of his fingers began to tap away at the edge of the table as he was taken into a long sigh, totally gathered into his thoughts, "each life killed from a weapon I sold, I've stood to benefit. I was diligently paid and I cared not what they did with what I made them…it was always about my rewards, financial or otherwise. And it was never enough, always had to do more…always had to suppress, well," his eyes wandered from the cold of his hands and up to the screen, connecting each of those all too distracting dots with lines in his head, "look what I've done."

"Its methane gas," Interval chimed in, "the chip you created…its infected the system with not so much a viral worm but a command, one so simple and common that the satellite networks to which it spreads wouldn't notify it as being irregular or suspicious," He looked up to John whom in turn returned his attentions to him, "something is missing, a chemical compound so abundant to the Earth that's it absence would cause concern to its survival." He swiftly turned back up to the screen, swaying his eyes across all the weather station points, "its pumping methane gas because they're being told that there is none. It's going to burn the planet and everything and everyone on it." He lightly nodded his head affirmatively, "now I've thought that maybe I could dismantle all the weather stations by hand but that could take months and the security issues. It may be prudent to go to the Justice League but I'm not exactly in good terms with the Flash given the current situation." He became to hesitate as he headed into his conclusion, knowing of its implications, "I don't think they'd believe me, not without evidence."

"How do you know all of this?" John abruptly cut in, narrowing the lids of his eyes as he continued to keep his eyes upon the speedster, becoming quite inquisitive in voice, "I had to search through several encrypted NSA databases and then some to acquire the footage of that mysterious speedster's activities, how is it that you were able to see it?" Interval sharply turned inward of him; lips closed, eyes unflinching, "oh," he stepped backwards in subdued shock.

"What?" Jadelynn leaned atop the computer table, looking down the way to Interval at the other end, "who?" her face crinkled up in puzzlement, a single eyebrow raised.

"The NSA visited the Flash earlier today," Interval eagerly relented his information, holding to his monotone drawl, "it would seem that several government organizations, one of which being the NSA, funded the previous Flash title holder to work on special interest projects for them. They believe that it was me that stole the chip…they've threatened to shut the current Flash, her," he shook his head repeatedly, "if we don't comply with their demands, one of which being that I turn myself in for questioning…whatever that means," he shook his shoulders with an unnerving gulp, "I'm not exactly knowledgeable the criminal code of this era," he winced, "I've always thought of myself more as a deductive scientist than that 'superhero' image."

"A what?" Jadelynn continued in her state of confusion.

After a moment's pause, in which there was a time dedicated to shaking off Jadelynn's internal confusion, Interval continued, "I believe that they know of our close association…our friendship," his brow shook, "they're looking for you and they know you're here. The Flash knows who you are now…I don't think she'll have much issue in turning in your location," he took in a heavy breath, "I'm sorry that I brought her here."

"It's not your fault," John spoke through a coarse whisper. He placed a hand upon the young speedster's shoulder. He sighed, letting his eyes rest momentarily, "have they told you anything else?"

"Yes," Interval quickly replied, "they say that you didn't create the chip on your own, that you had to outsource for assistance."

"Yes," John begrudgingly nodded, somewhat disappointed that he would have to reveal all of his shortcomings face to face with his somewhat newfound friend, "all I could really do was provide access to the network and foster a collective unit and acquire design plans for the development of future weather stations and potential construction grounds…I needed someone who could create the code, an algorithm that would order the satellites to pump out methane after being noted of its absence."

"Tristan Cuthbert," Interval started, "a computer scientist from Luthorcorp. She disappeared a few months ago; they believe you were involved in her kidnapping."

"I haven't spoken to her in…" John shook his head, stammering through to the end, "at least two months."

"She's dead," Interval came out blunt.

"What?" John took in a deep breath as he suddenly fell back onto the computer table, nearly coming to sit upon it. He was suddenly stricken with grief, eyes strung open to their farthest reaches; it was most unusual a state to see this man in, even Jadelynn seemed quite shocked.

"I found her body this morning," Interval sought to continue, slowing down himself to compensate for what appeared to be John's lack of comprehension for the conversation at hand.

"Where?" John pushed himself up from the desk now, "show me now," he continued in a beleaguered and quick paced tone of voice before Interval could summon the words to respond.

"Alright I'm coming," Jadelynn pushed her body off the table's ledge; there was a lot of strength behind her voice.

"No," John suddenly shot a hand out towards her, stopping her in her tracks. She slowly turned around to confront her beloved caretaker, "any moment now, the NSA could be breaking down our door," he appeared quite a bit level headed now, no doubt stifling the grief for the time being given the situation, "I may need you to start deleting out files, clean out our rooms, pack everything you can for travel…"

Jadelynn's composure slumped, "we're moving again?" the thought pained her.

"Most likely," John replied, "I'll contact you for when to get started." He lowered his chin in her direction, keeping a beady eye upon her, "you understand?"

Jadelynn shook her head with a dishevelled sigh, "yeah."

John abruptly turned to Interval, hand moulding to his waist line, using the crook of his elbows to bolster his shoulders back to strength, "let's go."

* * *

It was much later in the day than when he was previously here in the morning, but the sun, as could only be expected, had not managed to find a way through the corrosive combination of chemicals that made up the methane clouds. Thus, the sky was a uniform of grey all the way across with only slight glimpses of orange embedded into decisive curls and bends that created quite the captivating illusion of overlapping layers. Interval and John now stood at the base of that lone haunting tree that stood apart from the strips of pinewood by way of its lacking leaf structure and it's a hollowed, lifeless trunk; its crooked soulless branches formed a globe of an incredibly dense magnitude with their crossing paths, overwhelming the mind conscious of its presence with feelings of dread.

"The ground here looks disturb," John looked over to Interval after having analyzed the splotches of dirt that formed a multitude of oblong shaped hills, what grass that laid upon them being unable to hold any flat footed grounding, their long blades aimed sporadically along the slopes.

"This is where I found the body," Interval replied with an affirming nod. In heavy footed strokes, he dashed off to the nearest building, the single floor home noted for its tarnished white base, stranded as it were in the middle of nowhere. Its creaky haphazardly bolted door was ripped open in a blustery storm of wind, revealing nothing but the darkness of its lowly spirit which the young speedster immersed himself in to no harm. He soon emerged with the spade ended shovel in hand, rushing back to the tree base where he went to work on tearing the loosely packed soil mounds once more. The ferocity that arose from his speed forced John to take quite the step back, his eye however never wavering from the central excavation spot despite the plots of dirt that flew past his face. It wasn't long before he reached that nauseating discovery, carefully wedging the tip of his shovel around the corpse to avoid puncturing any more than had already been incurred.

"Oh my…" John's voice was cold, his face becoming ever so barren as he stared into the three foot deep hole which contained the lifeless husk of a friend duly passed, no doubt searching within the database of his mind for her face, seeing it now as shrivelled and deformed with colour ripped to the absolutist of chalk grey shades. The facial recognition system within his mind was soon matched the body to the silvery shined name tag pinned to the long white coat, the name displayed being 'Tristan Cuthbert' engraved in black letters. He let his body soak in the cold air for several seconds, still standing strong as he grasped the full meaning of this find. When the moment passed, he proceeded to hop down into the hole, reaching into his jacket to procure a jet black pipe like device that snuggly within the fully rounded grip of his fingers. With feet entrenched firmly to either side of the body, he knelt as lowly as he could without touching, raising the palm held device ahead of himself to the corpse's head with thumb poised to tap the lone thin line imprinted button on the devices apparent upper half. Upon the connection of his thumb and the subsequent button depression, a transparent screen exploded outward from within the tubular holding, quickly folding out into a rectangular piece no more than an inch long in congruency with the device proper and one third that measurement across.

"What are you doing?" Interval questioned as he tossed the shovel away, landing with thud into the mess of dirt piles created under the steam of his lifting efforts.

"Scanning," John responded calmly. The screen suddenly sparked into a shine of neon blue reminiscent of the appliances that decked his computer desk, "I want to know what killed her." He laid out the flat of the screen over top of the corpse and, beginning from the centre of the forehead, proceeded to scan the body, slowly moving downward with his eyes transfixed upon the screen side up for upon its display was internal tissues and bone of the body, acquired, of course, through x-raying. "There is something else I'd like to know," his attention never once slipped away from the swirling lines of white that brushed through the endless sea of electronic blue. Bones, organs, other anatomic features; nothing would go without inquiry, "how is it that you were able to find the body, this isn't exactly a common dropping ground. I'd say we're just about in the middle of nowhere."

"Well, the answer is kind of complicated," Interval, whom had in the duration of John's investigation been leaning inward of the whole with hands on his knees, groaned as he straightened himself up, unleashing a single subdued cough that rattled his throat.

"What's this?" the swaying search light like movements of John's otherwise solidly held hand came to an abrupt stop with the articulation of his internally bemusing question. In this stationary position, the screen of his scanning tool was suspended just above the corpse's chest, "that's strange," he lightly padded down a knee into the corpse's abdomen for balance as he pulled around his free hand to work away at unbuttoning the dirt ridden lab coat, haphazardly tearing through from the neck line down.

"What have you found?" Interval, sparked by renewed interest, leaned in on his knees once more.

"The aortic arch, it's been severed, almost surgically…or rather, exploded somehow," John took in a deep breath as he proceeded to pull away the loosened flaps of the coat, attempting to get a clear visual of the corpses chalk white skin below. Touching the tips of his fingers upon the portion under his scanner's eye, he gathered only its relative smoothness in addition to a coldness long associated with the dead.

"What's so strange about that?" Interval questioned through a harshly put whisper.

John took in a solid gulp as he rose back up to full standing. He promptly jammed his thumb back onto the lone button of his handheld device thereby recalling the screen in a swift movement, "there's no incision wound, or trauma of any kind," he discordantly shook his head, still unable to take himself away from his focus on the lifeless form of a lost friend, "nothing that would indicate a tear so precise. I've seen this before, recently. It could only mean-"

"It could only mean a speedster," a voice neither belonging to Interval or John sounded off to their far side opposing the location of that decrepit home, emerging out from the wall like thickness of the privately purposed forest strip entrenched there. Though the tempered young hero and his secretive friend were taken completely off guard at the instance of a foreign voice in their presence, let alone in a place so devoid of populace, the bass form in the articulation of the words and the rigid nature of the vocal pattern was well known to them: Special Agent James Bennett of the National Security Agency. "It's the same way that the Hyperguard took their victims, vibrating their hands through their chests and severing the aortic arch. It's very sadistic of you to order your men to kill in one of the most inhuman ways possible, but I suppose its limits how much blood they'd have on their hands," he was calm in his steps, hands perfectly still at his sides. His slow wayward trot came to an end three strides short of the burial plot, a position providing of at least a glimpse of the body which he took in momentarily before finding his way back up to Interval and John, their faces filled with disgust, "We thought you might come back to the scene…coming here to tie up loose ends?" He adjusted his green rimmed glasses, pacing himself with a stiff grin.

"Bennett," John nodded to the agent, scorn bubbling on his lips.

"It's been a long time Mr. Thermos," Bennett cordially slipped his hands into his pockets, revelling somewhat in the ease of this perceived accomplishment; cornering their most wanted, "you're looking well."

"Who did this?" John suddenly bolstered up to a shout, aiming his body towards Bennett as though he were preparing to run at him. When he finally took a step up from the hole to be on equal footing, this scenario had indeed come to mind in all present, but truly unfettered by this threat, Bennett held his ground, leading John to believe, rightfully so, that there were others nearby as thus he held his ground also.

"Don't you know?" Bennett raised up an eyebrow, obvious sarcasm in the base of his voice, "why don't you ask your fast moving friend," his hands slipped out from their pocketed holsters, following in the movements of his arms to cross over his chest. He turned his attention to Interval, intrigued by the boys swift head movements, no doubt searching through the forestry and field spread as shadowy characters were slowly emerging, "I wouldn't advise trying your tricks speedster," he chin slid down into his chest but his eyes remained locked on the boy, "the concussive wave will scatter you're molecules if you try to pass through it. You'll be dead in less than a second, but no worries, I'm sure your mastery over your perception of time will make the experience of being ripped apart atom by atom as excruciating as possible." Indeed, it was becoming plainly obvious to Interval and John that they were surrounded in a perimeter of at least twenty black suit wearing NSA agents that included in their ranks that stern curly black haired woman whom Interval had met earlier back at XS lab. In their hands were buoys of some kind, silver shined poles about four feet long and a full adult hand grasp thick with a basketball sized button end that they carried on line with their heads. A simple press of their hands along the sides of the shaft in a particular spot and the bottom sprouted a further three feet of a much slimmer arrow point that was almost immediately jammed into the ground. Satisfied, the agents stepped ahead of their posted pegs, assuming a stationary position only a stride within, their numbers assuredly producing an intimidating design. The pegs were no doubt fully operation for the ball situated at the top was prone to the outbreak of thin lined electrical surges of purple that engulfed its form but too much detriment for Interval and John, the wall it formed in unison with one another was invisible to the unaided eye. "It's getting easier these days to track you people," Bennett proceeded to retrieve his personal hand held computer panel from the pocket layered inside his jacket, raising it to over to his shoulder so that its display could be in full view of his cornered fugitives. It was an image of the Keystone City from above, an image matching that of the one on John's computer. Like John, Bennett and his colleagues had been tracking Interval's movements through high speed satellite imaging, "So what have you two been planning?"

"Planning?" John scoffed at the word.

Interval marched around the burial spot with his head held high, soon coming to face down Bennett with but a couple feet in between, "I didn't know this woman, I didn't kill her, talk to The Flash," he took in a large breath, desiring to stick to his carefully kept monotone but nonetheless feeling a tremble through his spine that sought to make him stutter in complete contradiction to his brain's demand, "I didn't kill her!"

"No, I didn't suspect you did, but you have friends," Bennett kicked the tip of his right foot into the ground. Though originally quite arrogant in his position, that façade of his suddenly shifted, turning into a stern voice with an even tighter glare than before, "did she get in your way? Did she threaten to expose you once you got started? Is that why you killed her?"

"We haven't planned anything, we had no involvement in her killing," John stepped in, shaking his head as was necessary for the physicality of his outburst.

"She knew what was going to happen, what's happening now," Bennett continued in his strict tone of voice, "but so do you and your friend," He took in a deep breath, "John, the NSA knows what you've been doing in the years since you've left, sure we didn't find or properly convict you in that time, we didn't have much need to do so, but given the current circumstances and your implicit involvement, we did all that was necessary to find you and here you are, standing above the body of the lone person that could incriminate you properly." He began to growl a bit as the wrapping strength of his arms increased, "I have no doubts, but let's say you are innocent. Why haven't you called our offices for assistance when you realized the full extent of your destructive operation?" He tossed out an open palm to Interval, "I'm sure he has connections, you could have called the Justice League," the arm returned to its tight clasp, "would you plan on calling them now? To tell them what you know." He paused for a moment, building up tension, "have you told anyone?" He slurred.

John was all but ready to reveal what knowledge he possessed or at the very least formulate a suitable defence for his stone face, but just as his mouth was beginning to slip open Interval stepped in with an outburst, "wait!" Interval shot an arm across John's chest. "Loose ends…" he began, "you're the one who called me," his head leaned back, a cold shiver running up his spine, "you told me where to find the body." Bennett began to groan a little as the speedster swiftly turned over to John, "we're the loose ends." He abruptly looked back to Bennett, "this isn't about what we know. It's about whoever it is we're going to tell. They're trying to incriminate me, cut me off from my contacts. They wanted us here, draw us out. We've been set us up."

"Bennett," John's eyes alone was tantamount to scolding the agent.

Bennett formed half a grin as he begun to take careful steps backwards, on a path previously travelled but forward, back to the strip of forestry that kept this location reasonably private. His ensemble of agents suddenly made their approach towards the centre point marked by the haunting tree, each one slipping a hand within their jackets to presumably retrieve a holstered weapon, "we only need the boy," Bennett peaked in a commanding voice, "do what you will with John but make sure he's dead."

"Well, have you devised any escape plans?" Interval placed his chin on his shoulder closest to John, forming fists and arranging his feet into a formidable battle posture.

"I uh," John raised a brow, "I was hoping you'd have something figured out by now," he flexed his fingers at individual tempos along the sides of his legs as he came to join Interval in line, assuming his own posture of readiness for conflict. Like that of his fast footed friend, he was searching through the multitude of agents, his former colleagues, whom were now coming close to engulfing them. Each one held an energy powered hand gun in their direction, notable characteristics being the white box shaped barrel and the sparkling blue flame that enveloped the tip. "Can't you just speed blitz the area?"

"And then go where?" Interval countered with a rhetorical question, "I could attempt to disarm them, but I'm a little weary about the power behind their weapons."

"Anything else you got that could get us out of here quickly?" John asserted his feet into the ground with some solid kicks. He slipped his right hand into the corresponding side pocket of his jacket, a move Interval noticed immediately.

"What are you doing?" Interval became puzzled.

"Notifying Jadelynn about our impending doom," John nodded, "well unless you've really got something…?"

"I could vibrate us through the ground," Interval responded hastily, "but there's no guarantee that we'll find our way out from where ever it is we end up," he looked to John with a small gulp, "if I'm even able to reconstitute our bodies over long periods of time."

The agents were beginning to slow down when they came within ten paces of encountering the centred Interval and John, a fact the two duly noticed for its negative connotations, but before triggers could be pulled and murderous violence could be exacted, a startling surprise appeared overhead: one of the NSA squad vehicles. The large, green domed front vehicle was in full gear, with the blades of its hovering apparatus and wing tailed engines pounding away at full strength, creating a mildly disruptive wind storm beneath in addition to a deafening chirp. In a swift motion, the vehicle did a full hundred and eighty degree turn, bringing the back of vehicle towards Interval and John. Needless to say, all the agents present, including that of Bennett, we're completely stumped by this sudden arrival, uncertain as to whether they were still authorized to shoot for the kill. The vehicle began to descend, not slowly or with any any degree of care, just straight on through those bending arm like branches thus producing a multitude of heavy scratches, snaps and breaks, destroying the trees globe like shape. Moments later, the ground was littered with dried up husks of dead wood but in the end, the vehicle came to rest soundly on the ground, protecting Interval and John from the face of Bennett with its massive form. Interval and John watched with inquisitive delight as the door enfranchised within the armour of the vehicle split horizontally at its centre, soon absorbing the cut pieces into the ceiling or the floor accordingly within seconds. Through the bright light of the interior came a man dressed in a dark suit, another NSA agent, but sooner had he arrived at the ledge of the full sized door frame, he was summarily chucked to the ground but what seemed to be a hefty kick to his lower back. It was that redheaded agent from the XS laboratory living up to his association with the term klutz. On the damp soil displaced ground he cradled his sore head and blinked with an odd discretion, truly dumfounded and confused of his location.

"Get in," Her voice was sharp. It was Jadelynn standing in the door frame of the vehicle.

"Don't just stand there, shoot them down!" Bennett's cries for action were met with a chorus of thunderous booms, each agent following through on what they had been ordered to do all along. One shot after another rang off in an assortment of diseased energy parcels no bigger than a decimal dot, spiralling and engulfing one another in a round puck like shape before making contact with the broadsides of the armoured vehicle, explosively denting it with their might. Their actions, however, failed to make an impact on the situation. John and Interval had already been shuffled into vehicle which hastily soared off the moment it fell under the impressive display of fire.

The vacated grounds left a sense deprived agent in full view of his superior officer whom relished in his disapproval for the failure of this agent. Bennett looked down upon him, shaking his head; their objectives had been foiled, their fugitives had escaped, and a vehicle was stolen.

"I thought I told you to get ready to move," John cried in a deep baritone that only he could perform, Jadelynn in both mind and eye. The interior of the stolen NSA vehicle was quite spacious and adequately plain in its smothering grey shade; it fit incredibly well with external view. Along the sides were two step-up balconies no wider then what was accessible to a full sized person. Set up upon these balconies were four black painted steel chairs, two to each side, notable for their perfectly circle seating plates, meagre inch and a half rounded bands that acted as a back rests, and stool like silvery cylinders used to cement them in their positions. Desk like apparatuses lined the walls just above the stools, decked out with various touch screens and keypads that operated the full sized wall screens, currently in their offline black shade. The Balcony continued into the front of the vehicle, taking up the lower portion of the globe where the primary control panel, a thin panel about two feet across and one third that along the sides, was enfranchised on two poles that held it up at about waist height.

Jadelynn was standing upon the front of the balcony, eyes fixated upon the interior side of the thick visor strip that circled around the forward green dome as she piloted the vehicle. The interior side of the visor served to showcase statistical and navigation information coloured in a shade of green more neon and digital in its orientation, providing Jadelynn with a variety of paths to which the auto-pilot could modulate to; being who she was however, she ignored all of its prompts. Her hands slapped on to the bulging palm sized domes that rose out from the primary control panel, perfectly aligned to the position of her hands, "well, from where I was watching, you needed my help," she spat out with a feisty flair, "they haven't found us yet!"

"We need to get back to the complex, and quick," John, along with Interval, rushed up Jadelynn's side, "but they'll have a tracking device in this vehicle. Let's ditch it on the other side of this pass and continue on foot," he looked across to Interval whom nodded in confirmation, pounding his hands together in symbolic fortitude. "This is just great though," John's usual form of modestly proper language seemed to fall apart in the moment with his heart racing and his pores sweating, "no wonder there's no one working on this problem, everyone's complicit with it.

"They wanted to kill you," Interval began, taking a small step back from his friends, "but not me. They 'wanted' me," his head lowered as he became completely lost in thought but sharply peaked up several seconds later, "I wonder what that means."

* * *

"There they are, safe, safe as it's always been, never to be touched, just like dad always intended," Jai moaned in the presence of his sister Iris. At current, the two of them stood within a rather cramped room though suitably fit to their presence in addition to a soundly smoothed circular shaped pedestal that rose from the floor's absolute centre, peaking at approximately waist height for the nearby standing Iris. Like all dwelling holes under the West's ownership, the room was brightly lit and pristinely white in all facets; the walls, ceilings, floor, pedestal and elevator door which nearly took up the entirety of the wall it was enfranchised in. Jai was leaning up against this wall, the massive musculature of his back forcing him to land nearly half of it on the elevator door. He nonchalantly crossed his arms over his chest while something of a scowl formed upon his face.

The height at which the solid pedestal was set forced the incredibly tall Iris to lean down somewhat in order to examine the items it carried on its back. The items in question were three shards of a broken gem, a cobalt blue gem, held suspended within three long glass tubes sizable to fit them. They were reasonably long, over an inch, sharp and angled along bizarre lines, indeed, judging from their meagre composition and tangled shape, they would never fit together; this was not the full gem. Every time these pieces fell upon Iris's eyes, she swore she saw majestic flames acting within their nature all while being enforced by the shard's shape. "I just wanted to make sure," Iris, after much hesitation, let her knees buckle and finally bend, bringing her down to eye level with the gems, her hands clutching around the circular edge of the pedestal for balance, "now that he knows we have the gem."

"Jace?" Jai suddenly lurched off from the wall, arms falling flat to his sides.

"He knows about the cobalt blue gem, Jai," Iris pressed her hands against the pedestal, rising up to her full stance. She had briefly glanced up to Jai but inevitably, her focus fell back upon the flaming spectacle layered within the mysterious magical blue gem pieces, "he sounded like he wanted it. Knowing what we do about him and that he probably knows what it's capable of doing for him… he'll stop at nothing to have it," she let free a disgruntled sigh, "I don't know why, but Max has left us with a curse."

"Oh don't say that Iris," Jai shook his head, "he's just a kind whose made some stupid decisions with his powers. He cares about what's happening here, what happening now, even if you haven't noticed it. Why do you think he's trying to keep a low profile?" Jai stepped up to the other side of the pedestal, becoming quite intrigued by the gem pieces himself, "he's studied the history of this era, whatever's going on, its freaked him out real good cause it's not something he's not read up on."

"He might know too much about this era though," Iris slipped a hand around the side of the pedestal, reaching for a thin square blue button embedded within the surface. She pressed the button with ease and slowly, the glass cylinders and the treasures they held began to descend into the solidness of the pedestal which in turn furthered the descent into the ground by falling in itself, "for all we know, this is supposed to happen. He was supposed to come here, to be the master mind behind what's happening here. How do we even know its Uncle Max who left him here? His word?" She gingerly stepped around the pedestal when its height had decreased to her shin, getting onto a pathway to the elevator door where Jai soon joined her with a sharp turn, "I'm not going to let him destroy everything our father's built," she nodded, "if the NSA think he's involved, well, I think we need to take them up on their evidence. And if it is as bad as they're making it out to be, we might need to do more. I may have to make good on my contacts with the Justice League." She sighed, feeling the penetrating stare from Jai, "I don't like the NSA any more than you do, but we do need them to keep the power running on dad's dream." When they had both come to line up in front of the elevator door, it moved with a swivel, sucked into its corresponding slot. The cleanliness of the elevator matched the room and was capsule like in shape, "we need to keep an eye on Jace, I don't trust him. I can't." The door slid back into its position upon their entry and at a near instance, the slick soft tempered roar of the elevator's engines erupted; they were steadily ascending.

"You've been suspicious of him the first day you met," Jai placed a calming hand upon Iris's shoulder, one of the few people capable of doing so on account of their near levelling height, "even if we give him the gem pieces, it's not as though he can do anything with them. It's not the full gem, and then…" he shook his head awkwardly, "we don't even understand fully how it works…its magic. Not a special area that I think he has over us."

"You don't understand the gem," Iris sharply turned her chin to Jai, levelling her eyes into him, "all you need is one, then you can find all its pieces," she took in a deep relieving breath, "you don't know what it's like to hold one. All the knowledge it possesses, all its power…there's a reason why dad kept it fragmented and lost. It's going to corrupt him."

"He doesn't even know where it is," Jai's tone of voice became peaceful, as though he had fully come to understand and respect his sister's position, "he's poured himself over our building designs, but the storage room isn't registered. He won't know where to start looking." The twirling rotation sounds of the elevator engine came to an abrupt stop in the conclusion of his words, the door soon following in junction, sliding inward on the capsule like curve of the elevator, straight into the slot built to fit it. To an odd kind of dismay, one so knowledgeable to them and yet this time truly cementing it, the opening of the elevator door revealed the family room of their house, the elevator shaft being within the cobblestone pillar that rose up the centre of the room, the door itself thus being on the opposite side of the television screen emplacement where the fire place would have been expected to be.

"It's not exactly the best hiding spot," Iris groaned as she stepped out from the elevator. When both had successfully exited and its primary door returned to its closed position, Jai set about grabbing the rock filled flaps held out to the sides of the pillar like cabinet doors, lined up on barely noticeable hinges. A simple flick of his wrists and the flaps came to close overtop of the elevator door, the mixing and matching of stones being perfectly matched within one another so as to not draw any suspicion.

"It's the last place anyone would look," Jai smiled a closed lipped smile, evident sarcasm on the tip of his tongue.

"Jai…" Iris shook her head as she marched around to around the pillar of false stones, her inside leg mildly scrapping along the edge of one of the intensely packed green couches that sat in a lined square around the television screen, "the worlds coming to an end, I need to do something…I need…."

"A break," Jai softly spoke as he followed in behind her, "you're over stressed, over tired. Maybe it's time for a vacation," he shrugged his shoulders, "it's been a long time since we've talked to Mom's family, maybe we should go visit."

"Korea is nice this time of year," Iris paused in her steps, forming a small smirk as she reminisced on old memories, "and I've always wanted to get in greater touch with our family heritage, no matter how strained…but yeah," she gulped, "since dad disappeared, I've just never had the time." She shook away Jai's attempts to lock eyes, "I don't even have time now, I've got to do something about this world ending crisis…."

"Well, if world is really ending," Jai once more placed a calm hand upon her shoulder, drawing her to turn around, facing one another with weakly held smiles, "maybe it's time you got too doing those things you kept missing out on."

The chirp of the doorbell suddenly rung, several times in fact before it cemented within the siblings. It threw the two of them into a jumbled mess of wandering eyes and shaky heads, an awkward situation to say the least. A remedy was soon enacted when Iris blistered to the front door at super speed leaving Jai flustered; it was just something he never seemed to get used to despite its all too common occurrence in this home of his. Paused in front of the heavy wood door, Iris's hand set to wrapping around the sparkling bronzed door knob, twisting it as was necessary to release its inner workings. Unlatched and moved aside, the absence of a door revealed that of a slick black haired friend standing upon the frontward balcony as though he'd been waiting to be answered and invited in for some time, utterly perturbed. It was their government stooge, Robert, dressed in his standard dark suit with the addition of a matching long coat made of the finest cloth. "He'll see you," he nodded with a somewhat disturbed expression on his face. He wasn't exactly eager to step inside West home, but in quite a bit of oddness, he nonetheless waddled his upper body forward as though he intended to do so, his feet however, refusing to follow through, "our young savant…" he paced himself with caution, "he wants to set up a meeting."

* * *

Only a few day-light bulbs served to illuminate the room Agent Bennett walked through, each one fixed in such a way that a pathway was marked by the circular imprint they formed on the incredible hard yet smooth faced floor, their edges just touching upon one another in their line. Bennett followed this path diligently, every step he took echoing throughout the massive cleansed room. The shade of this room was model white, plastered like thick hardened rubber on the floor, walls and ceiling, furthermore being considerably bright, light a white dwarf star, where the lights' imprint touched. As this was, the surrounding regions outside the path of lights were left in a chaotic mix of grey shades upfront, lingering into blackness as it trailed off towards unseen walls. The path set by the lights inevitably led to what was quite literally a six foot wide basin chair, one ever so plain in its bare whiteness, as was fitting to the form of this room, but ever so unique in its round ledged shape. Within three light spaces, Bennett began to make out the details of figure lying within it, a young man who flicked through the multiple images shown within the lends of his view-master toy, a red coloured binocular like box fed with a cardboard wheel of images that turned with the pressing of crank, to say the least, it was a very old fashioned toy common to an era prior to the twenty-first century. The figure's feet were just peeking out of over the chair's side, a necessity since space was needed for the top of his head to fit beneath the cut off line of the chair. With a finger on the view-master's crank, he certainly appeared to be enjoying himself if not only ample in his comfort.

"I was just thinking to myself," the boy clicked the crank of his view-master, a new image filtering in upon the command given, "what if I could take the time line and make it into multiple single frame images, a picture that marks an all too special moment," his voice was cheery, uplifting almost. It was so unnerving in this way that Bennett could not help but tense a little, standing now just three strides back of the chair, "if they're all small enough, you could view it all at once, get the big picture as it were, a picture of the universe," he clicked the device once more, installing a new picture to be viewed, "you could see the past as it unfolds or take a look at the future before it happens. Now imagine having all that downloaded into your brain," with the bending of his legs, his feet fell inwards of the chair's ledge. In a swift movement, he twirled the entirety of his body to the front, in so far as he came face to face with Bennett, albeit still with the view master covering his eyes, "now imagine what you would do if you could jump into one of those pictures, knowing full well of what was to become," the smile that he formed was impossibly wide, his teeth so preposterously clean. He suddenly tore the view-master from his face and in a simple flick of his wrist the view-master flew out from his grasp, smashing against the ground at a near instance, straight into a mess of bouncing plastic, "but then, you change things, and suddenly those pictures that you saw, well, they don't exist, not the way you saw them anyway." His eyes seemed to widen with exuberance, "still, what you know, well that ought to prevent the worst of things," he hopped right on out of his chair and marched on over to the bemused Bennett, "I wonder if I could use that to explain your lack of competence…."

The costume this boy wore was nearly identical to Interval's save his family's scarlet red had been replaced with a crystal like blue, the black replaced with a pristine white. There was the shin high boots, the stunted tight gloves that meagrely reached beyond his wrists, a full cowl piece with blue tinted bubble goggles, the circular silver caps over his ears with stylized bolts trailing out from their centres, and, most importantly, the Flash emblem, a shock of silver lightning blasting through a circle of white, centred on his chest. Bennett had seen him several times today but none of which in person.

"The mark isn't dead," Bennett held to his standard sternness in articulating his voice, "and the boy was not apprehended."

"Yes…! Wow!" From the sides of the boy's head, his hands, stiff and flat as could be, were tossed out and held shaking a short distance away, shaking in anger, "have you not been listening to a word I've been saying?" Despite this acquired attitude however, he did not seem to break from the chuckle like gurgle in his voice.

"If we could be granted some more time," Bennett became somewhat pleading in his tone.

"Nah..." the boy shook out a hand on the pivot of his wrist, a sign of disapproval as he turned away from Bennett. "I grow tired of these minor adjustments," he slapped his hands together, drawing them to his knelt over chest while his sharp tooth smile seemingly intensified, "I think I need to take a more hands on approach, I'll be handling my brother in speed personally from here on out." He suddenly peaked up, smile turning into a bit of a frown as he turned to look back at Bennett, "I trust that the West family has been dealt with?"

With nary a warning sign, Bennett suddenly lunged towards the boy, his fingers tensed and ready to rip away at the boy's chest with an animal's ferocity engrained in his eyes albeit it covered in his straight rimmed green tinted glasses. Upon touch, he amassed bunches of the boy's costume within his fingertips, using what leverage he amassed to pull him up tight while posing what little height advantage he had as a factor of intimidation. "I've had it up to here with you meta-human freaks! You haven't provided us with one weapon to fight this coming war, all you've done is talk, and I for one am growing quite tired of waiting for you to fulfil your commitments! The West family stays in business as long as we can use them."

The boy's rather jovial features rapidly declined, becoming the complete opposite of such being with a tightened jaw, eyes so sharply angled, and a face so awfully red its stood out from the bright hues of his costume, "don't touch me!" his hands slapped down Bennett's hold, his right leg lifting slightly as though he fully intended to lean into a kick, but as was to be fortunate for the NSA agent, he relented his anger with his now trademarked smile. He chuckled as Bennett stepped away completely horrified, "I have no idea what you've been doing with yourself," his fingertips touched together over his chest, elbows shooting out to his sides as a result.

Shaken up from this strange moment, Bennett stumbled along backwards, blindly unaware of what, or whom, exactly awaited him. A sudden thump of his head against something solid and he finally found himself starring up at another familiar figure also noted for their mastery of speed. He was a strong physical being with a broad shoulder line and muscles that could really only be compared to balloon in shape. Strange as it might be, the costume and apparel of this being was similar in image to that of The Flash; the deep scarlet colouration and the myriad of golden lightning bolts holding much prominence, with the most significant and noteworthy feature for true association being the logo enfranchised on a belt chain that rode from down from one shoulder and around the opposite side. The dark scarlet was present in his cowl piece, his upper arms to just past down his elbows, and down along his leggings while everything else, more specifically his chest, was very much black. Around his knees where golden colour bulbs that led into inch wide steel silvery shined bands that circled around his legs rung by rung all the way to the edge of the massive feet with a full plate of gold capping off the entirety of the soles. The pattern of steel bands was also present along the full length of his forearms, though the finality of gold was neither around his wrists or finger tips but rather at the presumed beginning, near to his elbow, in intricate jagged cuts that appeared very much like stylized lightning bolt. His belt was at least three inches wide in the vertical sense and, as was the theme, shaped into a golden lightning bolt though with much greater points, a somewhat capital 'v' being a prominent centerpiece of his waist. He stood there, staring down at the frightened Bennett, soon to be joined by another in a blink of an eye. They were so similar in stature, that it could only be said that they resembled clones. Bennett knew full well who they were, what they were: Hyperguard.

"You must excuse me," the younger speedster grabbed Bennett's attention, "but I do have other clientele that I must satisfy to stay in business," he turned his back to the man, "I no longer have need for your services. Do see that Special Agent Bennett is shown the way out." Though he heard the distracting scuffles of the agent shaking off the grip of the Hyperguard and marching off under his own steam, he paid to it no attention, already lost within his thoughts, knowing full well that in there, his mind, he was not alone, at least for the moment.

"Cobalt Blue," a soft voice cried out from the young speedster's left side causing him to open his wide smile and turn in its direction. Through the darkness she came, a tall woman with the firmest of body structures and the most delicate of pale white skin, a most notable characteristic given that her hair and eyes were coloured like an open fire, continuously burning away with unmatched ferocity. She was unearthly in just about every way. Of her clothing, a description of simplicity rang throughout, wearing for the most part only a full bodied off white suit, as was necessary to see difference to her skin tone, that clung suitably tight to her musculature. Two thick red glistening cloths crossed over her chest, pinned in the upper quadrants of her shoulder with two blossoming yellow buttons, reasonably wide to be palm sized. The emplacement of these buttons kept up a rather flowing blue cape, the kind that curved and bunched into itself while enticed in movement; it was truly a beautiful spectacle as she marched onward. To cap off her image were shin high boots, the kind so tightly bound to her feet so as to reveal their very facets, and a rather scarcely covering skirt that curled and weaved very much like her cape.

"Miss Martian," Cobalt Blue knelt his head, lowly as the Martian came to stand within close proximity, "you are looking most ravishing as always, what I wouldn't give to be by your side at all times…."

"Have my potential accusers been dealt with deathly blows?" Miss Martian slipped a hand beneath the boy's chin, drawing him to raise his head and eye her politely.

"Not as intended in your stratagem I'm afraid. I fear you put too much trust in the humans of this time, there are so incapable of completing even the most simplest of tasks," Cobalt Blue relented with a closed lipped smile, "I must contend that it is truly a blessing you have found me here, that I may be your most outstanding subject."

"You have not then acquired what you desire of this planet?" Miss Martian's soft voice turned to a low tremor, her wide angled burning eyes appearing to be on the verge of pouting, "you know there is not much time remaining, I'd hate for you to leave here disappointed."

"I have no concern for such a feeling," Cobalt Blue steadfastly responded, "I have but the need of my brother in speed, Jace Allen, and a few sparse instruments and items belonging to the long deceased Wally West but in truth," he knelt his head a bit, "I care not for such things if you do not succeed in your plight, for they would truly be frivolous. I only wish for the success of yourself, for the survival of your people."

"I feel this in you and it thrills me to hear it also," Miss Martian's spirits appeared to rise as she reached her hands for the speedster's shoulders, drawing contact with his eyes once more, "you desire then, to also become more involved?"

"I shall succeed where these poor specimens of the human species you contracted have failed, I assure you of that," Cobalt Blue smiled in assurance, "my involvement has been small in the past, but all has been set in place."

"Then, let us move on to your over commitments, the social kind," Miss Martian's hands slipped from Cobalt Blue shoulders as she took to waltzing alongside him, moving to the opposing wall from which she came, "romance me, boy."

Cobalt Blue pounded a fist into his chest and upheld his grin as he let his eyes wander through the flaps of the Martian's beautifully flowing cape, "with pleasure."


	38. Nightwing 9

Nightwing #9  
Volume 1. Story 7.  
Gleaming Rooftops

* * *

There always seemed to be a challenge for Mari Grayson when entering her shared dormitory room. She would remind herself that the mess behind the door was not of her doing, that she was raised by her father to be orderly in all that she did and taught by her mother to be considerate of all whom she met, especially those whom she lived with and regarded as family, but no, in this matter she had failed to uphold all that she had learnt. She just had to put herself up to some blame for all this growing filth, after all, she allowed her roommate to continue unabated in her disorderly and inconsiderate ways.

Of the many things she considered to be under the jurisdiction of her roommate was the multitude of blankets bundled tightly and haphazardly into the shelves of their allegedly shared walk in closet, so many needed since she repeatedly claimed to never being able to find just the right kind of comfort for an enjoyable sleep. Clothes by the bushel layered the dark hardwood floor, a damp towel occasionally found within their ranks; apparently she had never learnt of the purpose of her dresser or, as was more likely the case, she found the process of cleaning, folding and putting away to be too much of an inconvenience. Dishes, like cups, plates and an assortment of cutlery could be found in somewhat stacked piles around the clothing heaps, and although their use was grossly imagined, visually they appeared to have been licked clean. The array of garbage was actually quite restricted in form, mostly locale to hard plastic casings torn to shreds by the sheer strength of her hands and chucked about aimlessly, left to sit in any corner of the room that had not yet been hit by other spilling filth. One of the greater disturbances that distressed Mari as she took her first few steps inward were the papers, the old-fashioned creamy white sheets of wood processed at a mill. While she herself used a sizable computer tablet for all her school work, her roommate found such devices to be overly complex and thus inadequate for her needs, opting instead to fill page after page with hand written notes that more often than not resulted in illegible scribbles since she had developed a tendency to writing at super speed. All of these amongst other items attracted to a personal habitat; the smells, the tastes, the sight, the touch, and sometimes even the sounds it inspired, it all belonged to Lara Kent.

The one aspect of this living arrangement that unnerved Mari the most was not the fact that Lara was unwilling to clean her mess but rather that she was hardly ever around to acknowledge it; her bed, as it had been for some time now, was finely made, untouched. Sure, she came here to sleep more often than her other homes, but for the most part, if she was ever found on the school grounds it was only because she was attending the classes her mother signed, or rather forced, her to take. Her mother knew exactly what she'd much rather be doing: gallivanting through the clouds of Metropolis as Supergirl, bringing down to its streets a brand of justice said to have been inspired from her parents, though, kicking and punching were seen more often from her than the pleas for peace made by the previous generation. Mari had a secret life of her own of course, one she did, however, openly share with Lara. When she was not being an overachieving student at Elias School for Girls, she was the half-Tamaranean superheroine Nightstar, possessing a great deal of strength and a variety of abilities that rivalled that of her Kryptonian powered roommate. As this was, a confrontation of any kind between them had to remain civil backed by verbal prompts alone for if an argument should turn into a conflict of blows, their battle would surely level a few good city blocks. It wasn't long after this thought passed through the forefront of her head that she had to force herself to take a step out from her own consciousness, dividing her mind into two, the conscious thought and its observer. From the observation platform she looked down upon her conscious self with much dismay, finding distasteful thoughts aimed towards rationalizing the necessity of violent acts against Lara, her friend. It was probably the only way she could ever hope to bring that girl's head down to the earth where all the people she professed to love made their living, at least, that's what she seemed to be telling herself.

Mari's hair was thick and dark, a purple so strong in its colour that it was nearly black. Though naturally curly, she currently wore much of her hair straight, applying a hot iron as was necessary to keep it so; nonetheless, the tail ends curled into a multitude of different directions, glancing off her backside and slithering along her shoulder line. The fullness of her face in its most general form was cleansed of all imperfections and for good reason. Applied by her own hand, a myriad of cosmetics were used to muddle all the facets of her face in order that her unearthly tanned skin tone be over shadowed, as such, she was almost pale. Her eyes were large, wide, and bordered by long firm lashes, the only shame she thought them to carry at this time were the emplaced eye contacts that produced a perfect circle of aquatic blue enfranchised in a pristine lake of white; her natural eye colour, if it could at all be called so, was purple through and through due to a unique pigmentation gene, a notable contrast to the usual Tamaranean's solid green. Though the day by day application of makeup and eye contact use upset her to some degree, she understood its wisdom; identities needed to be protected, an and orange tanned purple eyed half-alien would certainly draw suspicions on campus to her parentage. Already late into the afternoon, she had since ditched her school's uniform in favour of a plain pair of blue jeans that tightly wrapped around her legs and a form fitting sleeveless shirt of a tremendously lighter purple hue than her hair. Successfully inside the room, she released a heavy sigh as her hands straddled the sides of her waist and the thin sliced steel shined door slid back into its standard position, shrouding the room once more in privacy from the outside world. Her movements were quickly picked up on by the sensor strip, instantly dictating the light fixtures to blossom, but in a quick action, she tossed out a hand for the manual switch just beneath it, pressing down on the thin lined plastic button to turn it off. The presence of light thus was nothing more than a blink in time; she just didn't want to have to deal with the full unhindered view of the nauseating mess.

The single body sized beds were wedged into the corners of the room. The front of Mari's was viewable from the entrance way, lining up quite finely with the spacing of the door. At the leg's end of Lara's bed on the other side of the room and along the wall of which its broad side touched was the entrance into their closet, its door noticeably open and fuming its contents. Though there was much to be said about the mess, the darkness made it all appear as a sea of contrasting blue forms, the colour Lara had a strong affinity with. Between their beds, just below the only closed blind window of the room, were two night tables, squares pearl white pillars with nought but two black handled drawers to their structure. The night table placed closest to her bed contained on it's a flat top a palm sized rectangular device noted for its clean screen top. It was her mobile phone and it was ringing. She made a mad scrambled for it, sloshing through the piles of clothes, following the sounds of its two second chirping interval, but when she finally got it into her hands, and the screen exploded in electronic white, her heart slowed down in dismay, a rippling breath shaking up her spine. She unleashed another heavy sigh before pulling it up to her ear, "Todd?"

* * *

Todd was a considerably shorter than what was expected of him, genetically speaking of course, not that this absence of stature prevented him from performing just as admirably as the rest of his family in the realm of heroics. Even so, he certainly retained their natural beauty; slick black hair that curled delicately around the sides of his head, ocean blue eyes, pristinely rounded cheek bones, and a smile that he oft describe as being devilishly attractive, though, he seemingly knew not what that meant. While all these aspects certainly present him as perpetually being in a state of happiness, at current, he was anything but. The smile was missing, the eyes were glossed over in bygone tears, and his hair was less than groomed to its recurring splendor; something had deeply affected him. Furthermore, his long sleeved white polo shirt was unfurled at the collar while his usually fine ironed jet black dress pants were wrinkled all the way past his ankles, a discomfort that he was only somewhat interested in fixing, slipping a thumb around the bend of his waist and adjusting it as was necessary to match every movement of his legs. This sorry state of character, and indeed, the foul mood he was in, was in part a shared characteristic of the room he inhabited as his own.

The walls of his room were painted in a dark yet soft blue while the floor made its mark of contrast with a creamy white coloured carpet that was contained within an even levelled inch thick trim of panelled wood that lent itself nicely to the light palette. At the centre of the broad wall opposing the entrance way was the lone window of the room, a sizable one that not only harnessed the brightness of the day but allowed the boy to slip out at night if need be. Positioned beneath the window was a box shaped flat topped desk built up of finely varnished distilled white coloured wood that did well in matching the floor's trim, its top in particular glowing brightly when the sun was at its peak. Directly across the room from the desk was the dresser, a tall structure consisting of six long box drawers immediately following a boost of height provided by half foot square shaped legs, one to each corner, used to hold up its cumbersome weight. It was beautifully composed, a sturdy oak wood that glistened in its pearl colour. All in all though, as could only be expected, these particular features of the room were not recognizable in their intended ways. Clothes of many kinds though closely matched to a clean blue, his favourite colour, blotted out the appearance of the carpet; pants, shirts, socks, sweaters, jackets, the occasional set of shoes and sometimes only one, and a single fine black vest that rested around the plush cushioned swivel chair that had been drawn out from beneath the desktop. Even the dresser had fallen under this wraith; many of the drawers were pulled out to their farthest reaches, bleeding clothing off their ledges. The process of cleaning, folding, and reusing clothing was not so much a foreign concept as it was ignored, a new outfit being purchased pretty much every day on the whim of his rotating fashion tastes. The drawers that lined up the sides of the desk were in just as bad shape as the dresser though within their holds were an assortment of books and scraps of papers and photographs. It was not that his personal computer pad did not serve him well with reading material but rather that he liked the idea of collecting hardcopies and enjoyed reading them as such. As for the papers and photographs that cluttered his desk, he fancied himself and artist, loving the feel of the pencil between his fingers as it glided across a fresh sheet. The only thing that was not completely disorganized was his bed. Wedge up into the corner opposite the door, with its pillow side a tad bit beneath the window, was his untouched bed, the heavy blue top being impeccably fitted to its edges so as to not conflict with the floor. That was at least the case up until Todd decided to take a seat upon it, tossing his backside toward the wall, his left hand just falling short of landing upon his soft pillow.

"Hi, Mari," a heavy ball of sludge circled the drain of Todd's mouth in a gulp that exacerbated the strain of soreness that clung to the interior side of his throat; painful, but necessary if he was going to be able to continue this conversation beyond simple formalities. Too some kind surprise, that round orange tabby cat that had fallen recently under his care [NW#4] suddenly appeared through the mess on the floor, hopping up with spattering dive from a thick jean pant leg to snuggle itself nicely within his arm, a small yet audible purr emitting when its chin had found a snug position within the inside of his elbow joint. His carrying right hand began to shake a little, necessitating him to tighten the rectangular shaped phone piece to his ear, "I guess…" he stuttered, "it's been some time since we last talked," a smaller, less painful gulp completed the removal of sludge.

"Yes," Mari's first word was rather soft, a whisper, but that was soon to change, "how are you making it with Cassie? Is she treating you well?" strength and clarity backed her set of questions but knowing her as he did, Todd realized her to be stifling her immediate desire to hang up on him by gnashing her teeth and bending her all too luscious lips in on themselves. It was too late now; she had been drawn into the notion of conversing with him. It was in believing this to be so that Todd was granted a small yet recognizable touch of relief as conveyed within his sweetening voice.

"I'm fine," Todd sniffed along with a slight nod in the affirmative for his own benefit. He pulled his shoulders from the wall a small bit, struggling to find comfort within the crinkling of the blanket he sat upon while being careful not to disturbed his cat, "she's fine. That is, she's treating me well. She just doesn't spend a lot of time at home but then again, I don't much either. But…" he shook his head while his words became a jumbled slur of mixed sentiments, uncertain as to what he intended to say, "I really could use someone to talk to, and just not her right now, not…I need someone who knows me."

"You're rooms a mess?" Mari questioned knowing full well of the answer before she even thought to ask, the effects of which being her fulfilling of Todd's plea.

"Yeah," Todd chuckled with just enough spark to pull himself free of his sombre state of mind.

"Every place I go, there's always someone's mess that I've got to deal with, live in," Mari became quite chipper despite obviously being overwhelmed by the stressing subject matter, "I thought I'd be done with it all once you left the house, but it's far too quiet there now. My roommate at school though, she kinda reminds me of you in that regard."

"Lara?" Todd winced, "all she did was complain about my mess."

"Well," Todd imagined Mari to smile as she responded, "it seems that when it comes to her own messes then it's everyone else's fault. She just doesn't see it. But I suppose that was separates you," she concluded in sharp sarcasm.

"You're comparing me to Lara?" Todd snapped back as he tossed his body forward onto his collapsed knees so that he now knelt uncomfortably at the ledge of the bed, "she hates me! She hates all boys! Is it my fault that I had to be born one of these things? It would certainly solve a lot of problems if I wasn't…."

"She doesn't hate you…she doesn't hate anyone," Mari spoke with an air of disbelief, "and I've always liked you for what you are, I mean, who you are…" her words slowed as she became overly aware of the awkwardness she had spoken herself into, "you're different, OK?" she strengthened up her voice with compassion, "unique unto yourself."

"You totally went blank there didn't it?" Todd moaned.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Mari shied away with a small cough, "look, I don't think she hates you, she loves everyone," she stumbled along, seemingly uncertain of herself, "she's just got some serious issues. She puts herself under so much pressure to do her duty that sometimes she loses track of all the pieces that put her together. Friends, family…she forgets that we're here but it's not as though she has suddenly become antagonistic towards us."

"No, it's not like that at all, not with me," Todd continued with a dishevelled tone, "she doesn't want me in her precious family." A brief pause ensued, "but that's ok, I don't want to be a part of that family, I'm my own family, all that is, all that ever was. I'm better off on my own…."

"Don't talk like that," Mari cried out, "father never would have allowed you to talk like that. 'Mind your friends, they are you're family', remember that."

"Friends…" Todd sniffed. He cradled his hand around to the side of his cat, delicately scrapping his fingers along the fur; brushing, combing, pulling against its natural orientation. It wasn't too long after the first touch, the first scrape through, that a small purr echoed throughout the small body. "I've got a cat, a real cute one, delicious even." He lowered his chin as he slid back into the wall, straightening out his legs once more along the breadth of the bed, "I found him abandoned and alone in Leonard Flossman's office."

"The financial mogul Flossman?" Mari piqued up in curiosity.

"A broker, investment consultant, philanthropist, he did a lot of things, a lot of good things for a lot of good people," Todd replied to her question as a shuddering gasp of air exited from him. "He was so alone in his last days…" his voice took a dive into the depths of sadness, becoming unbearably slow in form and so terribly weak in articulation, "no friends or family, just this cat. I haven't even got a name but I know he loved his cat. He's been well fed, pampered…but that wasn't enough; it didn't stop him from jumping out the window to his death…."

"Todd…?" Mari's voice suddenly registered with a deep concern punctuated by a cold shudder, "what's…" she gulped, unable to overcome the shudder, "what's going on with you? And be very clear, OK…please," her conclusion echoed under straining pressure.

"Yeah, OK, I can do that," Todd nodded his head while slowly straightening up his back against the wall so his legs could arch at the knees, his toes now just reaching the ledge of the bed as a result. He was getting comfortable; he was going to be here for a while, "Cassie got a case that involved this woman that she knew…she seemed nice enough but, uh…she was accused of killing a city councillor. And what made it worse, for Cassie anyway, was that she admitted it to her…."

* * *

"You will be granted thirty minutes with your client. There will be no recording of your conversation and as such, any words between yourself and your client is not passable in a court of law. Do you understand Miss Sandsmark?" He was a rather thuggish looking man with broad shoulders, big hands, and a face of stone like features that perfectly suited a voice that pounded like a bass drum up from the centre of his chest. The standard uniform of bailiffs, to which this man associated too, consisted of a straight black body suit that began with the full coverage of his head, subtracting the face with an oval shaped hole, and stretched onward to the end of his toes, though such reach was certainly unnoticeable for a set of nearly knee high black leather like boots were worn. As a second layer the man wore was a squared off white collarless jacket that could only be described as plastic like in its texture. The jacket fitted handsomely across the wide length of his shoulders, but as was necessary to remain in line with protocol of wear, it didn't quite reach around his front, leaving a two inch thick space of black in between; nonetheless, it stuck to his body as though it had been glued into position. Of important note was the electronic blue glowing dome piece that was fitted on the right side of the man's chest; it was something of an emblem, signifying his authority as a bailiff to this particular courthouse interrogation wing.

"Yes, but I must protest to me being assigned to this case. My primary focus has been common law. I've done relatively few criminal cases throughout my career and I've certainly never dealt with a murder case before." Cassie was a tall individual, her stature being that much greater than the Bailiffs. Her deep blonde hair was cut short along the sides while maintaining lengthier sharp well-formed curls along the top that glistened quite impressively under the day light mimicking fixtures overhead. The perfect blue circles that comprised the iris of her eyes were equally as fitting to her beauty, always flourishing with life and intrigue, focussed upon every detail and respectful to those whom she spoke to. She was in full lawyer attire; a thick collared pale white dress shirt, a velvety black thin lapel jacket that molded snuggly to her curves, and a matching pair of pants that narrowed to her ankles where slip on leather like shoes of a rather red flavoured brown took over.

The corridor that Cassie and the bailiff stood in was unsurprisingly solemn in its attitude and very bleak with its forced undisturbed cement grey colour; it was a most convincing environment for a prison hall. The space across the breadth of the corridor was quite wide, nearly fifteen feet across, but the height of its ceiling appeared rather stunted. While only a few miniscule measurements below the standard floor line in truth, its perfect flatness nonetheless appeared sudden, a perception further exacerbated by the utilization of its lighting fixtures; thin bars of impeccable shine, spread down the entirety of the way with a five foot long divide of space between each rung. Along the wall which Cassie faced were a series of windowless doors composed of black painted steel, each one fitted into multiple layered frames of a rather dense and bulky build that literally crept in about an inch over the front with straight lined panels down and around each side; a security measure that ensured the doors' permanent fixture. They were the interrogation room doors and one of them in particular had recently acquired the attention of Cassie and the presiding bailiff.

"The council is well aware of your office's credentials and would have certainly sought out an office otherwise qualified for the case; however, there is in fact a reason for your summoning. Your client requested you by name, refusing to converse with anyone but." The bailiff pressed a hand up to the right side of his chest, cupping the glowing blue dome fused there, "Cell Block D-15, Room 14141." Almost instantly, the inch thick strips that flowed out evenly from the frame over the front of the door hissed as they were prompted to draw back into their corresponding slots. A varied assortment of metallic sounds ensued, turning latches and gears of a heavy sort, as the door itself shifted to the left, sliding snuggly into its own slot within the wall proper. The bailiff stepped to the side of the now ajar door, straightening his back up against the forward facing trim of the frame. He turned his head over to his inside shoulder, narrowing his eyes upon the lawyer as she took a single step forward on a path to enter the revealed room. She paused for a brief moment in order to return his looks with that of her own eyes, "your time starts now."

The modelled interrogation room that Cassie had entered was tight in its squared edges, maintaining the crunching ceiling from the corridor though providing a greater use of light, several bars now compressed with no more than a foots distance in between. The walls were solid and smooth, devoid of any imperfections or any chance of seeing the outdoors as appeared to be the designed purpose for such a state of being. A simple standard designed rectangular grey steel table sat at the centre of the room with a matching chair to either of its broadsides, the person sitting in the chair on the farthest side away from the entrance way having quite a familiar face to Cassie. "Penelope?" Cassie gasped, stepping aback as the door swiftly slid back into its locked position.

"Cassandra," the woman's voice was simultaneously stern and calm. Penelope was a broad shouldered woman with thick muscle tissues rounded all the way down her arms, closing off on her coarse fingers which were tightly wounded into a ball of flesh that rested lightly upon the table. Her hair was of the cleanest of auburn, dark in matching to her pleasantly fitted eyes. At current she wore a palsy blue blouse, buttoned up to the top of her shoulder blade but wrinkled throughout the collar around her neck having seemingly gone through a few days of wear without change. She nodded once to Cassie, a firm pull of her chin, before returning to her sightless glare at the wall.

Cassie hurriedly reached for the chair that fell within Penelope's line of sight, her mouth gawking and eyes widened to their fullest extent as she fumbled into her seat, "I haven't seen you for at least three years, it's been so long since you left Themyscira," the flat of her palms scrapped along the table top as she pulled herself in close to the table's ledge, an incessant scrapping sound following in from the chair's feet fighting against the rigidity of the floor, "you've acquired a name, an identity, disappeared," she suddenly took in a deep breath, forcing herself to slow down, "does Diana know where you are, of your activities?"

Penelope kept her head low but raised her eyes sharply to lock on to Cassie, a position she held for no more than three seconds before slumping into the back of her chair. She suddenly turned away from her requested lawyer, her old friend, "I would prefer that princess not know," she gulped. "Have you looked into my case?" her head shot back up.

"I was pulled out of my office no more than an hour back," Cassie shook her head, straightening out the bulk of her arms along the table top as she grew more comfortable in her position, "I didn't even get an identification picture. All I was given was your name which I now know to be a pseudonym and the crime…" she slipped off into silence, a shudder passing throughout each of her limbs, "what happened?" She lurched in forward with a heavy dose of concern lining the bottom of her precious eyes.

"I killed a man," Penelope stated abruptly.

"I gathered," Cassie nodded, "but…why?"

Penelope leaned forward slightly, "Councilman Marrinan intended to foreclose block seven on East Hastings…opening it up sewage spewing factories owned by inhuman males from conglomerate corporations like Wayne Enterprises," she bowed her head with a low sigh, making a conscious effort to stifle some repressed anger, "I've been living there for several months now, helping out where I can. The women's shelter I help found," she shook her head fiercely, "I couldn't let it happen. I had to do something."

"You had to kill him?" Cassie scoffed.

"Yes, it was the only way," Penelope continued with a straight face, "there was no reasoning to his mortal being, so now his immortal soul suffers the fires of Hades under my blade. I understand the laws of this land, but Cassie, I have to be set free," she took in a deep breath, "my work in East Hastings has not been completed as I had promised its people there."

"I don't believe you," Cassie became stern, straightening up her back so that she could now stare down upon the Amazonian woman.

"Pardon?" Penelope questioned in puzzlement, raising her chin slightly as her eyes began to quiver with shutter like blinks, "to which part?"

"That's not why you've killed him," Cassie crossed her arms, her voice sickly dry and even toned, almost intimidating, "there's something else isn't there?" she shook her head once more, a sound action that signalled her negative feeling in regards to the convictions of her client, "you know very well that my family has a reputation for truth seeking. It's one of the reasons why I've found law to be such a fascinating practice, it's so full of liars and right now, I think you're lying to me." She took in cold breath, "Penelope, if I'm going to be able to help in any way, you're going to have to tell me what's really happening...don't make me get the lasso."

* * *

"Then, she was silent for the rest of the half hour," Todd seemingly concluded his detailing of the meeting with a silence engulfing both sides of the phone conversation. Feeling the intense dropping of blood pressure in his arm, he wrestled the appendage free of the cat's weight before it could fall asleep on him completely; a truly harrowing experience given the razor sharp barbs he felt to be running up, along, and through the various muscles. The cat was but momentarily disturbed by the rumbling movements around it for after a few shakes to regain a wakeful state, Todd's hand returned to its neck, fingers poised and prepared to apply an all too delicate scratch.

"Todd, did you…did you figure out what she was keeping to herself?" Mari broke the silence with a stuttering question, curious but uncertain as to whether she could interject in such a way.

"Well, you know these Amazons better than I do," Todd grunted. "They'll choose the option of death over just about anything, especially in protection of their fellow sisters; it's something like honour among Amazons."

"So she was protecting someone?" Mari piqued up.

"I don't really know," Todd's voice weakened for the brief moment with his hand slipping away from the cats head. His skin had turned pale.

"Well, who was she?"

"Um," Todd spaced out for a few seconds, "Cassie explained a little bit to me when she got home later that day. Of course, she was a little bit more upset about how I managed to get an audio file on her meeting…"

* * *

"You didn't think I'd find this little fly buzzing beneath my collar?" Cassie tongue was tipped with scorn as she entered the kitchen area of her apartment, a homely space once filled with the sounds of fellowship provided through the auspices of small meal but now was filled with an air of despair for it had long since been invaded by a forced upon roommate.

Nearly dividing the rectangular shaped kitchen area in half was a marble blue topped and pearl white sided counter, seamlessly drawn from the centre of the broadside wall opposite the entrance way while reaching for that opposing wall only to fall short several feet so as to leave a space by which one could pass around its solid form. What lay beyond that pathway were further counter arrangements, the stove which sat centre of the smaller wall, the deep basin sink, the refrigerator, an assortment of counter top appliances, and, of course, the cupboards which trickled down from the ceiling, running along in parallel form to the counter tops below, mirroring its clean cut build. The section on the reverse side, of which the entrance way led directly into, was a classically furnished light wood table, its most notable characteristics being a creamy coloured rectangular top piece with curved corners and straight edge four foot tall clean white painted pillar like feet. Sitting in the first chair from the entrance way was Todd, his hair clean and styled, the collar of his shirt suitable cuffed around his neck, and his black waist coat bound around his body and buttoned up along his stomach to make a snug fit; he certainly appeared to be emotionally stable, happy even.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble this could have gotten me in?" Cassie rushed along the side of the table, pausing directly to Todd's side so she could put on display her wraith. The little 'fly' that so greatly disturbed her was a thin circular disc no bigger than thumbnail with an inner low-glow blue circle, one fourth its full size, emplaced at its centre. Pin sized legs, fractions of a measurements and length, stretched along the rim, poised with microscopically small barbs which clung to the items, objects, and even persons as appeared to be the case, when needed. She dropped it to the table top next to Todd's jade coloured plate before driving the print of her thumb into it, cracking it into a multitude of pieces ensuring that the boy watched every bubbling crack.

It became plainly evident that Todd was taking part in the eating of a pizza like dish, the much bigger plate towards the centre of the table containing within its hold a mash up of melted cheeses soaked in the rare red of tomato sauce, the smell of which filled the room. The surrounding bread crust had been cooked to perfection, glowing like gold; it was a pizza unlike Cassie had ever seen before. She rescinded her anger the moment she caught the attention of the boy's bright blue eyes; it had been made known to him that she was tastefully admiring his lunch. She straightened up her back while gently running down her hands along her sides, her eyes flittering away from the boy's glossy stare. Taking in a deep breath, she finally worked up the nerve to reach for the chair to adjacent to Todd, taking off her jacket in the course of finding comfort upon the chair's base. "Why would you do this to me?" she pressed the ends of her elbows upon the table top and slapped her hands together creating a point from which her head could lean forward to. Her fingers collided into one another with impeccable force, a crude and desperate effort to prevent herself from searching out for a slice of the cheese ridden pie.

"City Councillor Chris Marrinan pronounced dead at 37 from a single precision stab wound inflicted by a military grade knife reminiscent of the Roman-Greco period. His accused killer, a one Harriet Aellai, a lowly social assistance worker in East Hastings, is found on the scene." Todd's voice was wrought with unhinged sombre glee, his fingers slowly and methodically tapping on the curved edges of his bread silt covered plate as his narrowing vision panned to the plate of pizza a short distance away; he had entered a state of deep thought where the devouring forces of hunger no longer mattered, not that he hadn't already taken several slices to appease his appetite previously. "I'm always interested when an elected public official is killed, even when the circumstances of death are seemingly obvious. But this one in particular, yes… Aellai called for you by name to represent her," he abruptly turned to his aunt with a wide grin of such a devilish taste, "there had to be something more than what the new stations were telling us. Something personal perhaps," her concluded with a slight tip upwards of his chin.

Cassie slumped back into her chair with a groan, her arms soon clamping down across her stomach, "I could have been brought up on charges of my own," she levelled her eyes into the boy, the enthusiastic delight within his eyes ceasing once he had calculated the angered layered within her words, "I could have been sent to prison because of that little bug. Then who would take care of you? You've exhausted anyone else who would dare show you compassion in this world."

"You know, I had myself emancipated at fourteen," Todd chided her.

"Oh," Cassie recoiled in surprise, "how was that for you?" her intrigue was marked in an evenly laid tone of voice, sharply placing her law breaking concerns on hold for a brief moment.

"Don't sound so worried Cassie," Todd fanned a hand from the side of his head smack down to the table top, shirking off the frightening implications he believed Cassie to be insinuating about her situation, that of which he had just been accused of bringing out. "The Wayne Tech SC-4 is virtually undetectable by all current security systems, not even the most advanced military systems in the world could track it down, and even if they did, its electro-sensitive. It can't be traced."

"Well, at least you had the courtesy of not injecting me with it," Cassie rung off with sarcasm, her anxious hands shooting out for the table's ledge, clutching with a consciously mandated force of strength, taking precautions to not damage it while still acquiring the satisfaction that came with holding something solid. The source of this discomfort was of course the plate of pizza which her soft blue eyes had come to plant upon, a long withdrawn gulp occurring at intervals of every three seconds while her lips trembled to keep tightly bound together. The silence that ensued was indeed a strange one.

All that Todd could bring himself to do was blink at a rapid pace as he watched the strange haphazard movements of Cassie's facial twitches, completely enthralled with admiration of her restraint. He began to fidget around with his hands upon the centre of his lap, "do you…" he paused for a brief moment as the clean blond haired woman turned her head slowly in his direction, "want a slice?"

Cassie let out a heavy sigh, the kind that rocked the body all the way through each limb, "yes," she shouted through a rush of panting breaths, so soft in volume though so coarse in articulation, "I'm famished," she concluded with eyes at the pinnacle of wideness.

"OK," Todd nodded with a closed lipped smile, "it's OK; you can have as much as you want…there's plenty more where I got this, plenty," he gingerly slipped his hand towards the plate of pizza, clutching its ledge from which he proceeded to drag it closer to Cassie whom could not help but stare down upon it, moving her head as was necessary to keep it fixed, chin nearly touching her chest.

"No," Cassie tightened her eyes and shook her head ferociously.

"What's wrong now?" Todd questioned with a great concern to the tip of his lips.

Letting out a nice calming breath, Cassie rose up her head and crossed her attention over to Todd, "please tell me there's nothing in this, no tracking devices, pencil point thin metal shavings of any kind that will make me sick for the next week and half?" Todd tightened his lips, puckering inward of his mouth on one particular side, as he proceeded to sheepishly pull the plate of pizza back to himself. Once it was in a stationary position, he calmly slipping out a slice from the partially eaten whole from which he took one bite that was soon followed by another and so on. Throughout the course of this dining table event, the boy's beautifully radiant blue eyes were held upon his startled aunt, serving to accentuate that strong smile of his following a thick swallow. All seemed to be perfectly fine and in order. "Alright," she nodded as she reached out for piece, the weight of hunger already falling from her shoulders.

"Yeah," Todd looked away from her, shaking his head, "Mr. Wayne still has the boys and girls of Wayne Tech working on making the SC-4 small enough to fit into the blood stream while still being capable of capturing sound."

Cassie had both hands upon the hard crust of her slice with the tip end of the opposite side, the point of the wedge, buried within her gaping mouth. At first she showed great difficulty in biting, inevitably though, she had finally gathered her desired section and with the sheering strength of her teeth, chewed and swallowed. "This is amazing, where did you get this?"

"San Marino," Todd cheered, "Mr. Wayne orders them in for me, only the finest from the lands of Europe. Each individual pizza is only about two hundred credits each, so I ordered in two hundred of them just to get a match."

Cassie suddenly coughed, choking on the current morsel that had slipped into an awkward path down her gullet. She appeared quite shocked, "two hundred credits?" her question was mashed into a disconcerting shout, the pizza slice she had so admired in taste abruptly dropping from her hand to the table top, crashing in a mixed mess of broken bread crumbs.

"It's an imported delicacy Cassie, it's going to cost a little bit more than what we can find here locally," Todd dutifully explained, "and it's totally worth it," his eyebrows popped, the subsequent facial reaction pointing towards the dropped pizza slice below Cassie's chin, insinuating the necessity for its retrieval, "wouldn't you agree?"

Cassie proceeded to clamber her hands around the fallen food item, rolling her eyes away from Todd to return her attention to devouring it, "I think it's going to be needed for me to talk to you and especially Mr. Wayne about your financial management issues."

"I would prefer it if you talked to me about Harriet Aellai, or rather...Penelope," Todd pushed his plate off to the side opposite Cassie, his hunger seemingly satisfied for the time being, "she's an Amazon, isn't she?"

"Yes," Cassie nodded in the affirmative; however, the one word she spoke seemed to carry traces of reluctance.

"She's been living in patriarch's world…" Todd stumbled through the use of those words, uncertain as to their terminology but acknowledging their relevance to the women whom heralded from the island of Themyscira, "for at least seven years," he shook his head in disbelief, "I was aware that there were a few Amazons whom left the island, but I didn't think they'd want to set up a new life here, isn't that against what they're all about?"

"Time has changed a great deal of things since they've become public," Cassie turned to Todd with a casual taste to her voice, "and a great deal more after they've decided to become reclusive once more. Penelope," she suddenly became stern, "she was one of a large minority that resented the entry into the world, especially representation in the United Nations." Cassie raised a brow, inquisitively looking upon her nephew before turning away with an odd wobble, "she was very deep into her worship of the gods of Olympus. At days on end she would before her rituals, and every man from our part of the world who ventured to the island labelled her by her paganism…she wasn't exactly tolerant of other people's beliefs," she returned her attention to him.

"Well, she certainly picked the right place to come," Todd jeered in subtle sarcasm. His eye brows leveled straight across his face, his eyes just as so. He methodically pulled his hands together ahead of his face, elbows balanced upon the table for support; he seemingly changing into someone else right before Cassie's eyes.

"In order to temper her, Queen Hippolyta offered her an opportunity to deal with their religious politics abroad, in our world, under Diana of course, but something happened to her," she winced, her head lightly shaking, "maybe she saw something, or heard something," she mused with uncertainty, "but essentially, the story always ends with her leaving us, to pursuit something for the betterment of this world."

"Sounds very quixotic," Todd shot in with a straight face.

"That's a very big word," Cassie peaked up an eyebrow.

"She's killed a man," Todd continued in his new demeanour.

"She's a good person, bound by Amazon code, a lover of all things living. Even those whom openly denied and mocked her practices she never fought them, she'd excuse her from their company," Cassie stepped down an octave, almost whispering her sincerities, "there must be an especially important reason for what she has done."

"She hasn't been on the island in several years, has experienced the indignities of this world as they are defined and espoused by Amazonian war lords, and the world we live in today isn't exactly too tolerant to her…uh…paganistic beliefs," Todd drew himself fierce, further developing that bizarre character that was most certainly unlike him to be, "that Amazon code, that love, we have to face up the possibility that it no longer exists within her."

"No," Cassie shook her head in a negative manner, "not this time. Not Penelope"

"Tell me then," Todd looked to Cassie with the drop of his hands, "why was she so silent? What has she to hide? Why can it not be shame?"

* * *

"Stop," Mari cried. The young super heroine had clambered up atop her bed with knees scrunched up into peaks and her backside leaned up against the wall the broadside of her bed touched. There was nothing but the frontier of dark blue ahead to look at, her mind occasionally working through some of the revealing details to determine just what exactly each individual item was and how they messily cobbled together to make up the whole. With her free she pulled at the thick muscle of her hair, pulling it around to one side of which the shoulder there became its resting point, the discomfort it caused against the pressure of the wall having become more than unbearable, "I'm not going to just sit here and listen to your diatribe about the Amazons again. They're some of my closest friends; I'd give my life for them."

"Did you know Penelope?" Todd questioned.

Mari sighed before shaking her head, "no. No I didn't," she responded coldly.

"I don't mean to offend Mari, I know that you love and admire them dearly, but there's just so much I don't understand about them and the stuff that I do, well, I'm not to terrible happy with," Todd maintained his sombre tone, distant and yet ever so touching in concern, "I've never found them be interesting in the least. The only time I'd find myself searching through their story of the month was whenever the Flash or Batman made that all too rare guest appearance."

"But it's not like you didn't know anything about Greek Myths, I know that you do," Mari chided him, "that was one of the first things we talked about when you learnt of them and who you were."

"From movies and video games Mari," Todd responded in haste, "none of which ever considered Amazons to be an integral part of the story. If at all they ever made an appearance it was always as an adversary, an opportunity for the hero to show just how masculine he is…" Todd suddenly coughed, just one coarse shot of air, "that strangely sounded like one of them."

"Something tells me you respect them more than you'd like to admit," Mari stretched out her legs to hang out over her bed's ledge.

"They're my family," Todd cleared his throat, "I suppose, that's what Aunt Diana tells me anyway. And you know, I really don't mind some of them," his tongue weakly dribbled. "But I'm still not exactly enthralled with my association or I guess the lacking of it. I know that on whole, they don't like me, and yes, I know what you're saying, but I have to be honest with myself, they simply don't, they just put up with me if ever I randomly find myself struck on the island I've been banished from." He sighed, "I'm sure even Diana wishes I was never born, all of them would rest easier. I stand apart from them, in more ways than one by the way, and it's not by choice. I just…I can't believe out of all the good people in the multitude of universes, one of these people, these women, had to be my mother and she's not even really an Amazon."

"The way I understand it, you wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for her," Mari chimed in.

"Yeah, I guess, no," Todd hesitated with the wording of his thoughts, "I wouldn't be, yes, I know that. Look, I'd really hate to say I wish I wasn't here now, but events like this one, they've made me question the value of the relationships I've developed here and whether the life I had before when I was all alone was better…and I really don't want to have to say that." After a brief pause, he continued his tale, "anyway, I needed to talk to Penelope. I read the file that Cassie was given and it was in standard order, but I don't know. The reason for the murder, well, I believed Cassie was right: she wasn't telling the truth. She's an Amazon…there was something more at work that I had to investigate, psych files weren't going to help me get the answer, no, I had to see her. It's these kinds of cases that always get on the front page, so maybe I was a little too eager to solve something this big or maybe I just thought I could help Cassie. I don't know, I just wish that I hadn't…the court house prison security wasn't as up to date as Blackgate's, but that wasn't exactly the challenge. You see, meeting her, that was…something else…."

* * *

Penelope had been swept into the darkness of her deemed 'temporary' prison cell, on the wait for transport and trial. There was no light to speak of, no window from which the outside world could be viewed, and most peculiar of all, there was not a single crack, a crevice, or imperfection of any kind within these solidly smooth walls that surrounded her, at least not one that she could feel. In these dreary conditions, the notion of hope was often a squandering of mental strength, a primary focus for those whom were superstitious, for those whom were unable to cope with their mortal fortitude, but in her long life, drawing from a century's upon century's worth of experience, she knew she had been through worse and throughout that time pleasantly forged a greater power within the notion of hope, a guiding force that far outrank the grovelling of mortals, one based solely within herself. It was the only strength that could see her through the darkness and thus, although she was tired to the greatest degree, remained ever vigilant, waiting for that moment that was just on the horizon.

With a passing blink a thin strip of orange light no more than three inches long appeared in the distance, instantly drawing her to rise and sit up in her bed. Thinking back no more than three hours ago from when the room was adequately lit and revealed, she drew from the formulated mental image of her surroundings a measure of depth from where she sat, coming to the just conclusion that the door to her cell was being accessed from the outside, that what was being hacked into at current was the black locking box device that was fitted into the wall just to the side of the door. Only five seconds had passed since the flame of orange light appeared when the strips that formed the room's primary source of light exploded overhead, creating the illusion of daylight where no real sky existed. In even less time, the inner cranks, levers and various other locking mechanisms rung off in their movements, twisting and turning inward of their corresponding slots within the thick plated wall. The heavy single steel sheet door soon followed, revealing the black clad Nightwing standing within its frame, a small closed lipped smirk on his face and hands firmly entrenched on his waist line, one of which carrying a blue card no larger than the standard credit size; his method of hacking the security systems no doubt.

"Penelope," as Todd's alter-ego, the height at which Nightwing stood was rather similar though modulated by the thick grey boots he wore, noted for their thick soles, sharp top side, and floppy curls of fabric about a foot in length that hung loosely from the pivot point of his ankles. Large circular clamps of an almost silvery shine were fitted onto the outside of his arms, acting as carrying cases for some of his more robust weaponry. His mask covered the entirety of his face with two pointed ears to either side of his head, although unlike the knight from Gotham, the tipped ends were curved towards his backside. The aspect of his costume that he considered to be the most important was the geometrically sound blue bird whose wing span crossed over the entirety of his chest. The neck of the bird narrowed in towards his throat, sprouting at the bottom of his shoulder blade a head that produced two beaks aimed towards his right side. Its tail was diamond in shape, the lowest most point just touching his stomach, and the wings, which first began at what would be the highest point of the diamond, held block like feathers beneath clean angular bars that nearly touched the inner side of his shoulder. "I'm Nightwing," he padded his free hand to his chest as he stepped further inward of the prison room whose size was no more larger than the interrogation room, though the table had understandably been replaced with a single person sized bed wedged up tightly into the far opposite corner of the door, "I've come here to talk-"

"I know who you are," Penelope jumped up to her feet with her interrupting words. Her eyes were riveted open with what could only be described as fear, that Amazonian mental fortitude unique to her and her sisters seemingly shattered by the young hero's presence. "You are the one he is searching for."

"Excuse me?" Nightwing's fragile mind collided with a wave of puzzlement.

"He wanted you, to have you found on this mortal plane," Penelope's voice became enveloped in a sickly soft tone as she drove herself towards the young hero, both hands turned to claws, ready to clasp the his shoulders once in reach. Her wide dark eyes maintained an unhindered hold within his, at least as best as what could be considering the emplaced white hued pieces of the cowl's outer visor; like it, she did not seem to blink. "And now here you are…you've come to see me."

"Yes," Nightwing slurred while his glare drew itself crooked and crinkled, the marks of his befuddlement over the woman's words in addition to the stubborn state of her eyes, held open to their fullest degree. He made a desperate effort to nod in the affirmative, so as to add a physical sensibility to his single word response, but was subtly overwhelmed with a wide assortment of awkward feelings that rescinded all orders to his motor functions, leaving him a stranded drooling mess. Such feelings were exacerbated further when the strange woman's hands inched their way down his sides, softly slipping on the slicked curves of his arms to gain access to his torso. She was so tall, so strong; characteristics that rather intimidated him.

"I had never believed that we would meet one another and yet the day, this moment, it has arrived and I am found to be unprepared," Penelope finally dropped her unsightly stare, bowing her chin lowly to the top of her chest, "but the situation at hand…if we were ever to meet, it had to be under these circumstances," her hands seemed to tighten around his abdomen, the protective layer of his costume beginning to feel some buckling, "now, I am most strangely compelled to feel relief even though I am aware of the great tragedy of my failure." She suddenly shot up, "I killed them Todd…I had to," he nodded but once, "for you."

Nightwing gulped, positively startled: "you know who I am?"

"My colleagues and I, your identity is well known to us," Penelope's grip tightened even further as her unflinching stare returned, "Marrinan, Gafford, Montano, Berger, myself…we were all his heralds, the council he choose to do his work on this mortal plane."

"There's more?" Nightwing questioned with a small dose of his investigative sense returning, the compromising of his identity certainly doing its best to frighten him into a more receptive state of mind.

"Of course," Penelope shook her head with the kind of sway that, although symbolically negative, was nonetheless positive in its mannerism, "each herald to their respective skills. As a trained hunter and one whom is most revering to the gods of old, my candidacy for his service was all but guaranteed, no, I was instrumental to his plans," the sway decreased ever so slightly in its intensity, "I was sanctioned to find his seed…I needed to find you."

"Me?" Nightwing further indulged the wave of curiosity that finally overcame the wave of puzzlement that had befallen him only seconds ago, now entertaining the idea that the imprisoned woman had confused him for another person.

"Yes, once more, it is you whom I on the behalf of our master have longed to find," Penelope stated with confidence, "the chosen son, his given seed to this world…the first of the new Titans of Myth."

"Whoa! OK!" Nightwing slapped away the Amazon's heavy hands with a good firm outstretching of his arms, his voice noticeably disturbed as it peaked at a high octave, "is this some kind of Amazonian cult practice that I don't know about?" sarcasm rang through his beleaguered voice, "are you saying…are you saying that you've been killing people because you think I'm supposed to be some sort of new deity?"

"No, I killed them for your protection," Penelope stated with evident concern.

"You did what for my…?" Nightwing clenched his teeth and shook his head rapidly, completely displaced by the words of the Amazon. "You killed people…to protect me?" he muttered under his breath, his head shaking in a well understood disbelief, "you know who I am?"

"Todd," Penelope stated.

"You need help," Nightwing spat.

Penelope swiftly twisted both her arms around to her back side before taking a deep breath, reinstating herself in the presence of the young hero, "I shall need to be set free if I am to complete my task."

"You've killed people…" Nightwing slapped both palms to his face, covering his eyes, "what is going on," the hands dragged down his cheeks before inevitably flinging off to his sides. "Look, I came here to see if I could be of any help, you're a friend of Cassie's and a whole lot of other woman I don't have a lot of patience for but that usually means something, so help me out here while I'm still willing to listen. I've got a detective's mind," he tapped a finger upon his temple, "and a lot of resources," he took in a deep breath to stabilize himself, "please tell me what's really going on." An odd silence ensued, the kind marked by panting breaths as emanating from Todd, "tell me!" he screamed.

"I know why you're mother abandoned you all those years ago," Penelope's right hand gingerly swung around from her backside, rising on stunted arch to once more clasp Nightwing's shoulder. She drew herself in closer, the boy suddenly less hysterical, attentive even, "she wanted to keep you safe from him. It is because of her that he comes now, she regretted your birth so dearly but could not bring herself to kill you as an infant, a child."

"What?" Nightwing's voice squeaked.

"Time passed in that universe unlike what we experienced here, every minute passed was days there," Penelope softly closed her eyes, falling into a trance, "but those days she spent there with you, raising you on that world, those were the best of her life times. But the thought of what you would become, to whom your service was given too from birth."

"What are you…?" Nightwing stumbled, "what are you talking about?"

"It was all so unbearable for her," Penelope continued undeterred by Nightwing's question, "he was to find you through her…her power came from him and that she could not do without. You would be safe in your universe, free to partake in the bounty of life, to be at peace and in love…"

"Yeah, well, I didn't," Nightwing coldly snapped in a drawling voice as he once more pushed away Penelope's grasp on his shoulder.

"But he found you there, just as he will find you here if I do not complete my task," Penelope's riveted open, a stern touch to her voice, "you must let me go. I must finish what I've set out to do."

"Who is he?" Nightwing posited a question with a more even toned voice, genuinely intrigued, "who is this person that wants me?" and with vocalization of that pondering string of thought, the imprisoned Amazon backed away slowly from, her unflinching eyes still frighteningly focussed within his resulting in a renewed shiver spiralling down his spine. "Silence?" he questioned himself in a soft whisper. He groaned along with a sharp turn of his head away from her impaling stare, "typical of you Amazons isn't it? Can't take the helping hand of anyone but your own," he looked back into the cement grey corridor just outside the cell, his feet taking the necessary posture to pass through the thick door frame, "well, you've still got my attention. I'm going to be spearheading my own investigation…if I find your friends dead I'll be sure to let the police department know who's responsible." And just like that, he was gone, the solid prison door having slid back with a heavy bolted twang, locking back into its place. Penelope had been left alone once more but it would seem that this time round her narrow understanding of hope had paid off for within her hands was a thick blue coloured palm sized card.

* * *

"What was she talking about?" Mari questioned with sincerity.

"I don't really know," Todd responded with a voice that was rather shallow, "some of it I knew already, but of course, there just had to be more…she had to make me feel worse that I already was."

"It sounded like you were really grilling her," Mari tossed around her free hand over the front of her legs, clutching tightly as she smiled weakly, the ends of her crunched lips resisting with their pull downward.

"I had to..." Todd sniffed, "she," he gulped once, "she said she was killing people…for me. For me," he reiterated. "Can you believe that? Because I can't seem to wrap my head around it and I've thought through every single logics problem Wayne has ever thrown at me."

"Please don't tell me you're blaming yourself for all that she did," Mari's legs suddenly slipped out from the grasp of her arm. She expulsed a deep breath as the lower rung of her eyes felt to sting of moisture.

"How could I not?" Todd hurriedly responded. "She seemed to know about me, my mother, what she did. She knew more than what I thought I knew. And, well, I checked into her story. Steve Montano, I found him strung up in his living room, a single stab wound to the heart. Karen Berger, I found her in her bed, pools of blood all around…it was just everywhere."

"But that leaves one more right?" Mari cried.

"Yeah," Todd seemingly nodded in the affirmative, "Carl Gafford. He had been laying low in the suburbs for some time, wasn't that difficult to track his financial records there but he…he wasn't talking for very long…."

* * *

Mr. Carl Gafford was a man of average height with some rather average features, his eyes perhaps being the most exemplary of this: a brown so infinitely plain in its shade. Other features included the lightly toned black hair which graced his head, cut short but nonetheless long enough to form into soft curls that piled individually around his scalp. Further, his chin was narrow in its spacing with a pleasantly plump ending curving ever so slightly outward, characteristics his nose rather shared in its own unique shape. Even the suit he wore was generally consistent with the average businessman of this era, black through and through with a thin straight lined collar attached square shaped tie that was fastened to his shirt with a gold pin, its end coming just one fourth of an inch back of his belt buckle. Indeed, the only aspect of his persons not inclusive of the ill-defined nominal average, at current anyway, was the fact that he was hanging upside down, suspended in the air by a black cable that wrapped around his body an unfathomable number of times, binding his limbs to his persons with vice grip like strength. The person behind this displeasuring position: Nightwing.

The flat of Nightwing's soles were planted against the decrepit red bricks that built up the outdoor wall of the department store building he had strung Gafford up to. What was perhaps the most notable feature to him at this moment, aside from the contortion of his body to maintain balance on wall, were his menacing eyes, the narrowing white upon a pitch black face producing a glare so frightening that the most average of men, Gafford in particular, might think him to be possessed by a great evil. His inside arm was aimed well beyond his own head, fully stretched and thus parallel to the building's face which it occasionally ran alongside and scraped whenever it became needed of him to refresh his increasingly rigid balancing act. The reason behind this stretch, of course, was the thin yet soundly thick black cord that wrapped up the entirety of Gafford's form, its regulated slack emanating from bulky grey container that was fitted onto the outside of his forearm. It was slung upon and around a sky pointing, old styled metal flagpole some distance above, the majestic flag it no doubt carried at its delicate angle noticeably absent. This flagpole acted as the fulcrum point for this method of interrogation, its continued strength being the sole force in preventing Gafford from falling several stories to what would be at the very least an injury for the ages if not certain death. And this, this was most certainly the fear that Nightwing wanted to invoke in him.

"The murders of Marrinan, Montano, Berger," Nightwing's right hand shot for the centre of Gafford's chest, folding into his claw like grasp the thickly woven lapels of his long coat. He pulled the man up close, face to face albeit with the obvious upside state that either perceived, "what do you know about it?" He mustered a lot of strength into the voice he had chosen for the interrogation. It was coarse and dirty in its articulation but tragically, it felt to be more forced more than heartfelt as he imagined it to be. Overall, it fell far short of matching up to his disturbing glare; he was still just too young to make his interrogation voice sound natural.

Gafford appeared to be rather confused regarding his current predicament and, indeed, the words and vaguely recognizable names that had been tossed at him with a heavy dose of spite. His head was still throbbing with pain and puzzlement from the initial thrashing it received, the unexpected jolt upwards and the subsequent rush of blood that came with the hanging that followed not exactly helping in the matter of recovery. He shook his head with a tremendous show of ferocity while his eyes blinked sporadically, each flash of his eyelids fighting an unwinnable war with the static that had laced his visual faculties; needless to say, the split second pull forward by his captor played a significant role in speeding up the process of waking up. "What?" he weakly groaned. The first thing he noticed was not so much the presence of the brooding Nightwing awkwardly standing off the wall a short distance away from him but rather the situation he was in: suspended four or so stories above a wide spaced barren alleyway enveloped in darkness as it was dictated by the solid walls that formed the alleyway and the solidness of the cloud drenched sky. All had been as Nightwing had intended it to be.

Despite the barren state of the alleyway as it was at this moment, in addition to the relative late night period when it was assumed that the large majority were home and safe for the evening, Nightwing acknowledged there to be tremendous potential of being disrupted by a passing stranger, after all, this region of town was notably a busy, over populated living and shopping centre. As this was, if he was ever to get the answers he wanted, he would have to be simultaneously quick and efficient. Serving as a reminder for this concern were the flashes of white that shone across the alleyway's mouth at varying, though all strong, intensities; passing cars, their rumbling electronic motors filling the air with their off tempo hums. "The murders of Marrinan, Montano, Berger," Nightwing strengthened his hold, drawing the man closer and closer till their noses nearly touched, "what do you know about them?"

Gafford welded his eyes shut, this time round understanding full well what he was being asked to do, "they're dead!" he exclaimed.

"I know that," Nightwing pulled himself away slightly in a short term moment of frustration, "I just said they were murdered!"

Gafford's eyes suddenly shot open, "they're dead!" he screamed his response once more, a significant amount of salvia slithering off the curves of his lips, drenching the tip of his nose.

"Obviously!" Nightwing shouted, this time in evident anger. He immediately let his grasp of the man's lapels go resulting in him swinging around in awkward broken spurts that greatly exacerbated elasticity of the cord, inevitably bringing him into several unwanted collisions with the wall, taking from those encounters a hefty amount of the coarse red dust ripped from the crusty old bricks. "Look Carl," the young hero's voice suddenly became more upbeat in tone, "I have this procedure I've been trained in when I interrogate people," raising his free hand, he quickly articulating the fingers into a clump of flesh which he proceeded to shake, "I give them a good tapping with my fist here," he tossed his arm away, the fingers therein exploding outward from the palm, "this causes the interrogatee, that's you, to get all fuzzy in the head, so that when I tie you up and hang you, well, you won't feel your arms pop out from their sockets…" he paused for a second, somewhat stunned by Gafford's impressively wide, white eyes, the man evidently lost in a mix of shock and fear, "you know, just in case something like that happens when I'm stringing you up," he slurred into the conclusion of the outlined first step. "Then I take you really high up some building," he straightened out the index finger of his free hand, pointing up to the sky, "and then I dangle you from a height that may very well kill you so that when you finally recover your senses the ground will be the first thing you see. The fear of dying loosens the tongue you see…and that's kind of like where we are right now in the procedure," he pulled his hand from the air to his chin, cupping it as he turned his head away from Gafford, "but then…well, I know there's something else, something I should do in case the previous steps don't work out," he turned back to Carl who's face had since turned ghostly, the zenith of pale, "I think it has something to do with that face you're giving me," Nightwing shook a finger at him.

"They're dead!" Carl shouted at the top of his lungs, a gurgling spat that was now joined by tears.

"I know!" Nightwing ferociously slapped his hand against his outside thigh, "would you let me finish thinking this through here!"

"I can tell you everything, but you've got to help me," Gafford took a strange shift towards pleading, "if I'm found, then I'll be killed too!"

"Who trying to kill you?" Nightwing inched in closer towards the man with an inquisitive bent to his voice, the anger that possessed him seconds ago having subsided at the instance of Gafford's apparent willingness to reveal himself more fully. The young hero could not help but compliment himself in brief at this point, believing his interrogation method to have succeeded to the letter of which he practiced and implemented it.

"I don't know!" Gafford screamed his gurgling scream.

"Great," Nightwing moaned, rolling his eyes in sarcasm. He straightened himself out in haste and continued to fulfill his curiosity, "what were you doing with Marrinan, Montano, Berger, and Aellai? What were you all working on?"

"I can't remember," Gafford shook his head, "I was possessed, I had to be, there was no control…" some of the gurgling subsided as he found a moment within his uncertain words to taste and gulp the excess salvia that had cemented itself to the root of his mouth; the act was quite noticeably a painful procedure, "you've got to believe me…all that was required of me when we met was my work as an accountant, I connected the East end with several corporations who wanted the land for some factories, I can't really remember it all…it was all so long ago three, maybe four years?" he began to shake wildly, not as though he was trying to escapes from the tangling of the cord but rather out of frustration, "it's all just coming back in dreams now…all I know is, I've got to keep moving, running, or I'll be found."

"Who is looking for you?" the harsh bite behind Nightwing's question had clearly showed itself, the interrogation voice he had always desired seemingly mastered in ; it flowed so naturally from here on out.

"I don't know!" Gafford reiterated his response in a despondent moan, "you've got to protect me…"

"What did he want from all of you? From councilman Marrinan and the rest?" Nightwing questioned with a clean articulation to each of his words, instinctively moving ahead to what would be considered the body of his interrogation method, requiring him to be concise and moderately slow with his inquiry so that nothing would be lost in transmission with such a beleaguered person.

"They wanted to find something for leverage or maybe it was someone," Gafford was nearly reaching his breaking point, the once pleasantly pale now circulating with a sour redness. At this point, Nightwing should have done something positive to alleviate the man's pain, that step he had conveniently forgotten moments ago when the man's face first turned pale; however, it was becoming plainly evident that the boy had lost contact with his physical being, the now revealing contents of this interrogation seemingly superseding all else.

"Who?" Nightwing sternly questioned.

"I think it was a kid-" The man had not even finished the word when an arrow, silently shot from a bow, pierced his throat, instantly slashing his vocal cords. The crushing sound of the arrow's head into the old brick of the building caused Nightwing's body to jolt, waking him up to the warm red fluids that were now gushing freely from the widening gyre forming around the arrow's long dark wood shaft. His eyes were open, consciously aware of what was happening to him. His head shook for a short time in noticeable discomfort but inevitably, he couldn't come to draw a single breath; no more than seven seconds after being hit, Gafford was dead.

The bowman wasn't hard to spot; simple deduction of the arrows trajectory, a judgement made from its angle of lodging, brought Nightwing's attention to the larger, more up to date, at least materially, department store building that sat on the other side of the busy street ahead of him. There was a dark, muscular figure standing there at the corner of the building's flat rooftop, glaring down upon him and the now recently deceased. The bowman had made an impeccable shot, impossible even, acquiring from the young hero some admiration, albeit to the utmost degree of reluctance given the purpose in which the arrow had served. Nightwing was, of course, too late to save Gafford, but of his death, he was most unwilling to allow it to go unanswered. So, when the murderer backed away from the building's ledge, he quickly moved to pursue.

The first of Nightwing's actions was to sever the line that strung Gafford's body up. A quick flex of his fingers inward of his palm elicited a small, yet audible explosive pop inside the bulky carrying case on his forearm, resulting in three more feet of line to throttle outward. Just as the line was severing, he twisted around his body so that his back lined up against the wall, taking in those fleeting seconds of balance that the still attached cord gave him so that he could make an impressive leap across the wide void of alleyway space to the wall awaiting him on the other side. At the severed end of the cord appeared a small blue boomerang shaped object which, once fully free of the compartment, sprouted three more legs so as to become more star like in its orientation. "Crud," he had been thankful that during his leap the star shaped clamp had successfully latched itself onto the flagpole, thus keeping Gafford's body suspended with not but a small jolt of movement, albeit still lifeless, but when he had come to touch the wall on the other side, the single clean slab of heavy olive green marble, he was startled to find its surface coated in a hard gel that made it particularly difficult for his sharp clawed fingers to pierce through and gain some climbing traction. After several seconds to many of slow awkward sliding, with some ear grating scratches thrown in to show he was at the very least putting in the effort to climb, he summarily let his weak grip go, tossing out his arms as far as they could to each side. Instantly, bright blue wings shot out from beneath his arms, the thinnest point of them beginning at the edge of their respective pinky fingers before trailing down on a diagonal line to just a foot below his elbow were it was joined by the much bulkier end sprouting from his sides, thus forming something of rigid scalene triangle. With his descent stabilized, the boosters on the bottom sides of his boots kicked in, sending out increasingly wide spiralling puffs of dense grey smoke to the ground as he sped up the wall, his chest nearly rubbing along its smooth face. Now in flight, the chase was on.

Once he had passed the top line of the department building, he spread out his arms and hovered freely around the general air space above its roof, taking a moment to find focus upon the dashing dark figure. The rooftop was flat and smooth, just as had been experienced with one of its surrounding walls, although it was certainly a lot more brighter being that it was firstly the side which faced the sky, and secondly due to its material build, which was designed to not only absorbed surrounding light sources but expand upon them, reflecting back its energy at a much higher intensity, thus becoming an interesting marker on the nighttime skyline. The particular light it shared this evening caught the young hero's interest for a split second for it was quite an offsetting rare red, the otherwise uniform grey cloud formations above showing signs of hell seeping through, streaks of red that boiled and churned; it was unlike anything he had ever seen before. In addition to the discovery of the rooftop's relationship with the sky, it from up here that he acknowledged the brutality of traffic on the eight lane wide road below, the majority of the vehicles rumbling along its black tar surface being bulky box shaped shipping trucks that regularly required more than one lane for moving, a fact they utilized to their advantage when weaving around the smaller, more economic class vehicles; it was almost as though they fully intended to cause congestion.

The department building across the street was similar in dimension, shape and form to that of the building he currently hovered above: large, straight edged, built up in fine heavy olive green marble. Of interesting note was the configuration of semi-transparent blocks stacked into pillars enfranchised within the building's broad face. There were three of these ten foot wide pillars, beginning with their foundations on the ground floor and rising in parallel lines to one another to the rooftop, stopping in a straight cut line some three feet back from the recognizably dark, bulging trim. As they were, the pillars were excellent at absorbing the influx of light energy flowing in from the passing vehicles and the surrounding stationary street lamps, reflecting this acquired power in a manner similar to that of the rooftop but seemingly more so in intensity. Although no such thing was seen at this time, these windows were actually wired with various electronic pixels that formed a picture or video with the intention of advertising. With all the reflective surfaces to the building's front, its rooftop was left littered with the dark grey complexion that could only come from a multitude of small stones, pebbles really. The dark figure Nightwing was after had already been in the works of a full sprint. In order to make for lost time in the pursuit, he slammed his arms down hard to his sides so as to become what he perceived to be more aerodynamic. Over the crowded street he flew with the cars and their occupants unaware of the chase that was ensuing overhead. His heart was racing now, completely overwhelmed with the chase at hand.

The athletic figure was soon at the ledge of the building. With nowhere left to run, the bowman turned around slowly to face the recently landed Nightwing whom had swiftly rose up to his fighter stance, fingers tensed and ready to unleash his personal brand of fury, "oh come on," he shouted in frustration as the figure, rather than satisfy Nightwing's urge to exchange blows, returned sight to where it was once transfixed and proceeded to leap courageously forward. It was quite a different setting on the other side of this department store. A wide eight lane street with complimentary sidewalks were indeed a key feature but as opposed to the single plane ground level emplacement of the road now passed, it was stacked into three layers, an over pass atop of another over pass, forming a widely used highway. As this was, the uppermost layer was barely a ten foot drop from the rooftop; by now, the bowman was playing in traffic.

Following a couple long footed strides, Nightwing throttled himself into the air, his head tilted upwards ever so slightly with arms spread out wide and legs bound tightly together, great leaps in altitude soon being gained as a result. As a silent observer above the traffic once more, he became instantly enticed by the shady figure nimbly making way through the pounding trucks and other assorted vehicles with such skill that he felt himself readily admitting to jealousy. On one particular occasion the bowman showed incredible gymnastic finesse and perfect calculated timing when suddenly up onto one particular large pale orange flat faced trucks that could very well have killed if one step more was taken. Both of the figure's hand reached for the top ledge of the truck's backside, tightly clutching so that both feet could be brought up in succession of one another, planting the flat of the soles against the truck's side. In a split second after acquiring a squatting position on the side of the truck, the bowman performed a backflip at just as another truck, and older classical grey styled model, passed by in behind. Both feet successfully landed on the side of the passing truck, collapsing downward at the knees like a spring from which the athletic figure sprung forward at the blink of an eye, rising above traffic from which the venture across the busy highway could be concluded by hopping from vehicle top to vehicle top.

It was in process of the figure's hopping, most of which had come to be primarily restricted to the broad based shipping trucks due to their comparative height, that Nightwing dove in lowly to see if he could topple the killer over, but just as he was drawing in close, hands ready grapple the waist, the bowman turned around mid-leap, drawing another arrow to the bow, firing off a shot that clipped one of Nightwing's wings, causing its rigid texture to nearly explode. He let out a distressing, if not starling, scream as he spiralled to the ground, unable to manage control over himself now that a part of his balance had been severely damaged. His voice concluded with a devastating, at least for his vocal cords, snarl upon collision with the unimaginable hard pavement surface, his left shoulder and corresponding face side being the points which faced the brunt of the impact. Dazed and perhaps even confused, the fallen hero was slow lift his crumpled form onto all fours, patience being allotted in kindness to his body, allowing it to regain its motor and sensory faculties before attempting do anything serious. This patience, however, was not shared in kind with the oncoming flat faced deep orange shipping truck barrelling towards him.

With time running short on his survival options, he ignited his boot boosters for a short second to propel himself out of the truck's way, scrapping the front of his body along the coarse ground all the way to the stunted highway's complimentary sidewalk just over one lane away, inevitably stopping with the crush of his head against the waist high cement barrier wall emplaced along the highway's outside ledge. Needless to say, the chest part of his costume had been damaged to some extent, with the occasional small toned electrical spark and scrape marks noticeable on his once pristine blue logo. Though it had caused him some excruciating head pains, he was nonetheless thankful for the barrier that had stopped him, further utilizing its solid presence by shirking his backside up against it, a few moans and groans in between the shifting of his body as he came to sit upright. To some surprise, the bowman was stranding off to his left side, one foot atop the flat top of the barrier, "hi," Nightwing sheepishly grinned. Without a word, nor a sound, no acknowledgment of Nightwing's oddly placed greeting in the least, the bowman simply dove off the ledge of the highway, arms spreading out to their fullest reach as though they were be utilized as wings.

With one last chest biting grunt, Nightwing twisted and curved his arms inward of himself so that the palms of his hands, gently crossing over his shoulder line, could land soundly on the flat top of the barrier. From this awkward position, he proceeded to lift himself with care but nonetheless with a suitable amount of speed, fast enough to see the bowman land when he came to turn around. There were no department stores on this side, no stores or businesses that would draw droves of people over to shop, but of what was found here were the preliminary plans to construct a centre of such activity. The full steel box like frame of what would be another department store in line with those previously passed was already up in its entirety, noted so since a liberal use of hard plastics surrounded the central structure beams that lined the outer hull of the structure and, assumedly, the majority of the interior ones if not all. It was dark here, but not so much so that the individual floors could be made out all the way to the ground, the reason, of course, being attributed to their thick plate being wholesomely surrounded by a heavy coat of fluorescent white plastic. Following down these streaking lines of white as they were, he caught upon the figure he'd been chasing landing softly in what appeared to be a dedicated atrium space on the eighth floor, only three floors or so down from where he stood. There were a couple of drawbacks to following the bowman. Firstly, with one wing destroyed, it certainly wasn't going to be a soft landing. As this was, he retracted his good wing and what remained of his broken one. Secondly, the building was quite a distance away from the highway barrier wall, well over twenty feet, meaning he would probably have to use his boosters to get across the gap, thus requiring of him to take the greatest care in his aim. Putting these issues aside, after clearly not giving them much thought, he punched both feet on top of the barrier wall and proceeded to put all remnants of his strength in the push forward, the leap following through almost naturally, only breaking apart when let the boosters give him that all to needed pop.

Amidst this increasingly dangerous jump, there was, however, another issue that had not been brought up before the leap: the re-emergence of the archer. This time round, three arrows had been latched onto the bow, aimed towards the young hero and unleashed as such with uncanny accuracy. Firm wood, slick and silent, the arrows shifted out and away from one another as they drew close to the encroaching hero, creating a mangled mess, a trap, which would require of him to either contort his body in the most awkward of ways to avoid them, perhaps the most difficult of survival options, or nimble fingers. The latter choice being favoured, the moment he was within touching distance, his right hand lunged out for what appeared from his perspective, the centre arrow, clutching its shaft in hand with lightning reflexes he just had to compliment himself on. "Gotcha." The incredible catch had been made just in time to perform the procedural roll forward when landing, another compliment to himself being well deserved for making it across, only another hitch had occurred other than the fact that the bowman had already made for an exit: it wasn't an atrium he was landing in, but rather an elevator shaft.

The rolling ball that Nightwing had pulled himself into immediately shattered on the inside wall of the elevator shaft, a widely echoing scream being elicited from the young hero at a near instance. As the elevator shaft had yet to be completed, there existed to each floor cut off a single sheet of plastic to maintain balance with the surrounding pillars, the shaft being constructed around a set square shape; however, unlike the surrounding plastics of the steel frame of the building proper these sheets were routinely thin and thus weaker. As such, no sooner after Nightwing's head had encountered another hard wall like structure this evening, he began to spiral out of control to the ground, slamming into each layer as they arose, screaming widely all the way down into the dark, emotionless pit.

* * *

"Are you alright?" Mari voice rang off with sincerity once more, a continued strain of genuine concern that Todd had not heard coming from her in a long time, at least insofar as it concerned his wellbeing.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Todd weakly smiled as the inside elbow joint of his free hand caressed to the top of his head. He proceeded to squeeze his arm like a vice grip, "my heads quite sore," the newly applied pressure seemingly alleviated the recurring pains of a headache with an entirely new, and different, pain, "and my legs feel real numb…" he shook his legs a bit at their mere mention, the feeling that coursed through them being something he compared to several hundred bee stings occurring all at once. "I've always been athletically fit, but not in the same way Dick was…I was never that great when it came to acrobatics, even after all he had me go through." He let out a heavy sigh, "the suit didn't hold up too well…Mr. Wayne's going to have a fit when I bring it to him for repairs."

"It's not too far out of the ordinary in this line of work; you know that," Mari chimed in with her sweet tipped voice, "I've gone through three costumes in the past four months."

"Yeah, but he genuinely likes you, you're his granddaughter," Todd replied in jest. "He begrudgingly keeps me on the roll because Dick OK'ed it and well, he needs some extra bodies out there. I swear, every time I'm doing something for him and Batman, I always end up being assigned to the part of the case that has the least likelihood of encountering trouble."

"And this is why you were so 'gung-ho' in getting involved on this one?"

"It was my case, I was going to solve it on my own. It's what I've been training for," Todd exclaimed with authority before suffering a dramatic change in character, one quite depressed, a split second later, "and then I lost her…."

"Her? Sorry, it sounded to me like you knew who you were chasing…" Mari pondered.

"Yeah, I caught the arrow remember?" Todd turned to an upbeat tone as the vice that was his arm fell flat down to his lap with a plop, "I couldn't trace its build or anything, it was handmade, the arrow head though, it was very sharp," his head began to shake uneasily, "I had seen it before, I, uh, recognized it from the island. It was Amazonian."

"Penelope?" Mari gasped.

"I received a call from Cassie moments after I got out of the elevator shaft," Todd continued with a more lukewarm tone, "Penelope had escaped from her lock up in the court house prison. No one knew how except for me," he sighed once more, this time in remorse, "she stole my hacking card. Explains why she was feeling me up the way that she did when I tried to interrogate her. Anyway…add that to the list of things that Mr. Wayne is going to chew me out for."

"What did you do then?" Mari seemed to plead for the boy to move on.

"I asked Cassie to come meet me at the Newell Women's centre in East Hastings," Todd calmly replied.

"That was in the block that she said Marrinan was planning to close down and sell right?" A brief moment passed, a response in the affirmative being simply implicit, "why?"

"Well," Todd let out a full gush of air, stripping his lungs of their hold, "the one thing I do know about these amazons, the thing I probably like about them the most, is that they're not deceivers, they rarely ever lie unless they are protecting an ideal, a sister. They're…seekers of truth." He gulped with a slight affirming nod, "Penelope had been living here for a long time."

"Had been?" Mari cut in.

"I only showed up here four years ago, so she had to have been doing something before then," Todd continued unabated by Mari's intervening question, "I really didn't think she was lying about the place. A quick search through city council files did in fact show that the place was going to be refurbished into a proto-industrial centre. Marrinan signature approved it. I guess they were hoping they could clean up the place a little," he hummed lightly, "you should have saw me when I put that all together…I was jumping around and everything," his voice maintained its even state, "I didn't it all on my own. But, well, I wish I hadn't I guess, no, I, uh," he began to stumble, "I should have been able to catch her, I should have."

"Todd what's wrong?" Mari coughed, "what happened?"

"I should have thrown a cable line around her, or taken out one of the vehicles she hopped along," Todd's words began to slur as the syllables rapidly escaped his mouth, "I should have, I should have…I could have severed her hamstring with a well-placed wing-ding. I could've done more…."

"Todd why does it matter if you caught her or not? Did she kill someone else?" Mari became eager.

"No," Todd shook his head ferociously, "no, she didn't, I had to get her because…."

* * *

"Todd?" Cassie cried out for her nephew. It was odd seeing someone dressed so finely in this part of town, the tall blond lawyer still dressed in her high end suit. A minority of the buildings were condemned and those that were not were barely livable; she certainly understood the city council's decision to have the place closed and refurbished into proto-industrial centre. On the other hand, she of course recognized the need for this kind of place in all societies; it offered a home to the poor and the broken, as was the case for the many women whom had once been to the now operationally defunct Newell's Women's centre. One of the condemned buildings, the centre was in a state of disrepair. Its cream coloured walls were peppered with bacterial stains, dark splotches of pain that found their concentration primarily suited to where the building touched the unkempt dirt of the meagre yard space. The roof could barely be called such for its dark leather like tiles were anything but wholesomely collective of one another; holes of a variety of sized were far too common feature. Nonetheless, the room at the end of the hall she walked along was dark, at least in consideration to sky.

"Todd?" Cassie cried out once more when she believed her eye to have caught onto her nephew standing in the entrance way, blotting out the flame of the ground level candles from view but doing such thing to prevent their enticing glow. "I mean, Nightwing?" she called with uncertainty.

"I'm here Cassie," Nightwing grunted.

"Are you alright?" Cassie came within a two strides distance from entering the room, but was startled to find herself snubbed from entering by the low standing Nightwing, nearly the entirety of his upper body, head and shoulders, knelt over in what she perceived to be shame. "What's happened here?" she abruptly switched from a tone of sincerity to a stern tongue dripping with a dishevelled eagerness. She fought her way around Nightwing, clubbing away at his shoulder to pull around to get a clear view of what lay within the room. In the first second of her seeing, she was instantly held in shock, "oh Hera, no."

* * *

"There was blood everywhere, immortal blood though, I guess, right?" Todd's question flew across with a rhetorical bent, "she had cut herself a couple of times, draining some blood so she could do her ritual…spreading it around in a circle large enough to fit her body. I think she was praying to the Artemis or whatever, the incense, I had smelt it once at the goddess's temple once on Themyscira." He took in a deep breath, a contemplative pause, "She stabbed herself in the heart…I can still picture her bony fingers holding the blade's hilt, I don't think I'm ever going to forget that. "

"Todd, I'm sorry about what you saw, and I'm not asking you to forget," Mari stepped in with her soothing voice, "but you've seen death like this before-"

"No, no," Todd shot back in response, clearly cutting her off from concluding her sentiments, "not like this, never like this. Have you not been listening? At first I was led to believe she was killing people because of me…and I could totally get behind that because we meet these people every night we go out, I can't approach it with logic because it's illogical. If that was all, and you know, I caught her, well then, maybe I would have learnt something, I'd still hate myself, but I could have kept going. But she killed herself. She's dead because I was so eager to get involved. It's because of me that she escaped and even so, if I was able to stop her after she killed Gafford, well, this never would have happened. But I wasn't good enough, I wasn't…I've solved nothing today. I've failed."

"What are you talking about?" Mari queried through panting breaths.

Todd ran a hand through his hair, his eyes beginning to tense up once again as moisture filled the lower rim, "I was so happy when the case feed came through the bat computer, it was small but still something bigger than what I'm usually doing, an actual murder case that I could handle on my own. When I discovered that Cassie was attached to the case, I literally jumped for joy…it was the best possibly thing that could have ever happened to me." He welded his eyes shut, "I've seen so many dead bodies in the last few days, I've watched someone die right in front of me, but that all didn't seem to matter, they were all immaterial, not people…all that mattered to me was that I was doing this case in my own way. It was all going to be done through my perspective; I was going to be the hero that unravelled the conspiracy and exposed the evil mastering it all from behind the curtains…but with Penelope, well, there was no evil, no curtains. It was just her, acting upon herself. Just like Flossman. I just don't understand why, and I don't think I ever can...All those people dead, and I just didn't care for them as people, just facts. I should've cared."

"But Penelope knew about you and your mother?" Mari chimed in.

"Of course she did; everyone Amazon and their dog know about my mother," Todd cried in a voice riddled with disgust, "she just made up a story to make me lose focus of my persons so that she could rob me blind. I barely know anything about my mother, she could very well have made anything up and I would have been intrigued. All she had to do was follow up upon the story of me appearing here four years ago."

"What about Gafford then?"

"I looked into him afterward…He's had three separate mental break downs in the past four years stemming from his job," Todd slapped his free hand against the side of his leg, "when your colleagues start getting ritually killed off, don't you think that starts to mess with you a bit?" Another pause ensued, several moments of silence that allowed the boy to collect his thoughts, "when I came to this universe, I thought it was going to be the greatest thing in my life. It was everything I could have possibly dreamed of. Everything had order: there were the villains and then there were the heroes. That's what made the story. But here I am, involved in cases where there is no villain, no structure to the order. And you know what: I'm no hero…not one that matters anyway. I've failed in every possible way today," he unleashed a heavy distraught sigh, "this is not what I wanted. This is…this is not how it was supposed to be."

Mari gulped, "I wish father were here, he would-"

"Dick's gone Mari," Todd stated bluntly, "he should have found someone else to carry on his legacy, cause from where I'm sitting currently, this is the worst decision he's ever made."


	39. Nightwing 10

Nightwing #10  
Volume 1. Story 8.  
One Hour

* * *

Ozyronian spacecraft were simply not built for this kind of turmoil. A race of intricately connected telepathic creatures, interaction with others outside their commune, the whole of their planet, was seldom but not entirely unheard of. On rare occasion, the elders of their psychic collective would overhear words from the great beyond, their mental state transcending the mortal plane of which they inhabited and to where the gods rested in all their infinite might. So often they ignored the musings of the gods, kindly regarding themselves as inept when it came to the matters of the near omniscient, and in conducting themselves in this way, they were regarded in kind as being quite a humble species. But then, as it happens to be, arose those words, those all too rare words, that compelled them to revoke their status amongst the heavenly deities. These words that formed ancient passages described the horrific tragedies of an oncoming event, a time of great destruction; it was the fate of the universe that was being discussed and decided upon, and for this reason, it simply could not be ignored. A warning needed to be issued to the one whom the gods knew could stop them, to save the universe from their wraith, and thus they sent out one of their own to find her, to tell her what awaited her in the future so that she may prepare and prevent what was to come. Of course, the elders knew not of what awaited their messenger on Earth, no; their concerns were fixated upon that which would threaten the messenger's ability to travel.

The spacecraft that the Ozyronian piloted was a rather compact unit for travel. The pilot sat within a dense black ball, an orb, which was repeatedly circled by a perfectly smoothed saucer section that surrounded itself in a stubborn unchanging hue of metallic blue, clearly indicating itself amongst the black expanse of space. Additionally, the craft was mighty bulky surrounding the central piloting orb before spread outward several feet to the finality of the saucer's seamless edge, the thickness there being no more than an inch. As it was to be, this small Ozyronian ship was the lone spacecraft soaring through the depths of the solar system on a directive course to the planet Earth, but it was not precisely alone. If the sky had been clear this evening, then those beings whom lived upon the planet Earth whom dared looked up would have noticed a strange force of darkness moving throughout the stars, blowing each one out only to have them reignite a mere moment later. While this phenomena of the heavens would have most certainly passed through the minds of those whom observed it as being nothing more than such, a phenomena of some kind, for the lowly Ozyronian pilot, it was everything he dreaded and everything he knew to fear.

The darkness, this solid force of impenetrable black, was upon his craft in mere seconds after first being noticed. It sharpened itself into a blanket seven times large than the craft's whole for which it sought to engulf. The success of this dark entity, however, was never in question, for the Ozyronian's need never had a reason for applying weaponry to their crafts it light of their rather peaceful approaches to the universal order, though that was not to say that this particular pilot was not resourceful. Smothered in swaths of pure darkness, a peculiar event occurred just as the ship blindly stuttered its way into the Earth's upper atmosphere. A slight yet noticeable jitter rung through the black cloth followed rather abruptly by a multitude of thin wired energy blue lightning strikes that shattered the blanket's grasp upon the craft, instantly causing its wholeness to explode into numerous cone pointed peaks that pulsated in their reach and decline at unspeakable speeds; it had been hurt severely, so much so that it was quickly and assuredly pulled away from the craft's direction and seemingly tossed back out into the vacuum of space which it floated through motionlessly.

While the Ozyronian was free, the tactic to which he applied had depleted his ship's fuel source. The saucer section of his craft had lost its metallic blue spark, dropping to a distasteful pale grey, as it descended to the Earth, lifelessly pulled down under the force of its gravitational force with no possible way to balance. In a word: crashing.

* * *

"I don't really know how to say it Proxy, but I just sort of want to…retire, at least for a little while," Nightwing stated with a steep dose of uncertainty, more or less leaning towards the downward side of a steep slope that led into the abyss of wondering, quite literally, sorrows. At current, the young hero was nestled snuggly in the pilot's chair of the Blue Bird, his personalized vehicle, not that he thought to keep it after giving up the role that granted him such an excellent craft. Its interior was quite sleek in its design, a terribly strong uniform jet black all throughout the narrow yet incredible depth of space, with an unearthly blue glow filtering throughout, such an ambience presumably being formed through the reflection of his various piloting screens enfranchised within the curve of the vehicle's dashboard against the dense windshield that circled over top and around him, a single sheet that took up a significant portion of the craft's topside. Of important note were of course the steering bars that circled out from the dashboard, one closed ended horse shoe shaped handle to each side of the vehicle, perfectly lined up along the inner ledge so that they would come into easy access with Nightwing's hands. Coming into contact with the handles resulted in his fingers, and subsequently his arms, lighting up in the most elaborate of straight lined designs, circling and running along the breadth of his arm, thereby furthering the blue flavoured ambience of the interior. Despite the connection, the actual control he exerted over his vehicle was minimal, the large majority of its piloting skill being regulated to a computer system miles away from where he operated.

"I don't understand," a distinct voice, chock full of familiarity to the young hero, filled the cockpit.

"I want to stop being Nightwing," the boy's grip around the handles weakened as his head slumped, in part upset that regardless of his finger's exertion around the handles, the craft would hurdle onwards whether he desired it to or not.

"You want to quit?" the voice returned in shock.

"Yeah," Nightwing mumbled in response, softly closing his eyes as he took in a deep breath which was promptly followed by a sharp jolt of his head upwards, slamming with reasonable ferocity against the chair's neck rest, causing it to wobble ever so slightly. The boy's costume primarily consisted of a full black suit, thick and hard in form, but sleek and smooth to the touch. There were various accruements to his body that road above the pristine black such as his floppy grey boots whose excess ankle fabric more or less folded in on itself around the shins, and the narrowed silver dome like compartments that were fitted to the outside of his forearms which carried a variety of his weaponry, the most notable of which being his escrima sticks, one to each side tethered by a high pressured cord. His cowl, if it be called so, was most fitting within the heroic family he was currently a part of, with two bat-like ears rising from the side of his head albeit with a slight arch backwards in contrast to the more recognizable vertical arrangement. What he considered to be the most important part of his costume, well, at least until recently, was the blue falcon that was embedded upon his chest. It was made up of sharp geometric lines: wings lining up to his armpits with trailing almost square like feathers that gradually grew in length as they approached the centre; a diamond shaped tail whose bottom point just trailing touched his abdomen while its top point was understandably buried in the bird's primary body; and, the narrowing neck which protruded from its top two jagged ended beaks. Although it had seen some changes since its former wearer, the boy nonetheless saw it as iconic, thusly raising another issue he had to contend with.

"Why?"

"It's just not what I expected it would be like, my life as Nightwing I mean," Nightwing grudgingly responded, pulling his voice up several octaves so as to be heard more clearly if not only to be perceived as being confident in his words.

"I'm sorry Todd, but I'm not following what you're saying…."

"Well, I'm," Nightwing shot his eyes open with a jittering shake of his head and a shallow gulp, "I'm quitting my position here…I don't want to be Nightwing anymore."

"I don't understand why though…give me a reason, a real reason."

"Well," Nightwing shrugged his shoulders, his hands finally lifting away from the handles to come rest on his lap, the coursing blue lines that ran through his arms subsequently powering down, "I thought life would be different here, now that I had some purpose to live up to in a world that was so clear cut and formed, but from you know, where I'm from, I'm just not seeing much of difference between them anymore, in fact I'd say I'm worse off here than anywhere else given all the stuff that threatens the place on a regular basis…and that's the thing, its regular. I just realised that I might very well be doing this for the rest of my life, and that," he blink rapidly, "that sucks. I decided to this cause it was fun, but now…doing this every day, Nightwing forever…."

"Hold on, where's this all coming from?"

"Nightwing was my hero growing up, I could just about recite every one of his stories from memory," he nodded stiffly, "but that was just it, they were stories, a fictional character on a fictional world. When someone died here, it really didn't matter, I mean, not in any way that mattered, they were just facts…even when Dick died it didn't hurt me like it should have. All I could think of was that I was going to live up to him and even surpass him one day in the role," he bowed his head lowly, "but, you know, now it does mean something, it does mean something to me anyway and it sucks that I wasn't able to say goodbye or anything. I just wanted to say goodbye." He sighed, "everything, it feels more real than it used to and I get it, it's just as senseless and stupid as it was on my world."

"Todd, I don't understand even half of what you're talking about."

"Yeah, I know, I don't expect you too. It's really complicated," Nightwing tossed up his right hand to his forehead, cradling it in his palm as he smashed the point of his elbow into the side railing, just below the touch of the surrounding windshield. "The point of the matter is that, I really don't fit in here. I don't have the nerve, not like I thought I did. I can't be that hero Dick or anyone else has expected me to be."

"No one has expected you to."

"All the same though, I have to live up to it, that's what happens when you take on the name of another hero…that reputation, the legacy, it sticks into the next generation, and I don't want to handle it anymore." Nightwing's voice started to pick up pace, nonetheless remaining clear in articulation, "I don't mean this to sound depressing, cause that's certainly not what I am," he folded his arms over his chest, "see, if I'm stuck living here, well, I want to be happy. I'm young, and I don't to be looking to a future where I become a stalwart of the super hero world, with no life outside of it. That's what Batman is, the never ending fight on crime…well, I saw it. It's never ending, and I hate it. If it means that I have to quit to get where I want to be, so be it. I think I can still be of some help though, maybe I can help you…" his eyes widened with the momentary freezing of his thoughts, "we've never met have we? I don't even know where you live."

"Some place safe, and no, I don't think my kind of work is what you were meant to be doing, you're far too impatient, you need to be out there, saving people with your own hands," a belated pause in the conversation ensued before the voice returned, "if you're regretting some failure on your part, to save someone, or questioning your abilities to perform, well, that's something we can overcome together, that's why I exist, that's why the community is here, we've all had our bad times where we think the pain is never going to end, but It does Todd, I want you to know that. The people you know, they've all been through that. You have friends-"

Nightwing suddenly chimed in with a well-timed scoff, a showering burst of air gushing through closed teeth, "no I don't."

"What is this about now?"

"Well, who are you talking about, Wayne? Terry?" Nightwing shot back with some noticeable cynicism that literally took him to the edge of his seat, arms furiously chucked to their respective sides of the cockpit, "you should have seen his scowl when I brought in my costume for repairs the other day."

"He always scowls."

"More so this time than ever, I know he's just putting up with me because Dick gave me permission," Nightwing was quick to contend. "And don't get me started on those teammates of mine. I started that team because of Dick. He was such a phenomenal leader, with so many connections and friends, a real family of friends that all cared for one another, but those two…I know what they say about me when I'm not around; the speedster and I have got the cave wire tapped. That monotone green coloured Lite-Brite thinks I'm more trouble than I'm worth, and how can I blame him for thinking that? Pretty much everything we've gotten ourselves into is because of me or, at the very least, something related to me. And in the case of Interval, well, he doesn't care about anyone but himself, he's more selfish and arrogant than I am, he's just better at hiding it. He's using us to meet his own ends; needs the Lantern for some power and me for my connections to Wayne Tech…yeah, as a side note," he coughed once with a side sweeping roll of his eyes, "I've given him all the codes to the satellite network."

"What about Cassie?"

Nightwing sighed, "I love her, she's nice and I know she cares about me…but that doesn't change the fact that I was forced upon her. She's very busy with her work which I thought to be stupid at first, she can practically move mountains with her strength…but, although I haven't seen much, what she does in court, well, it's her way of fighting the villains. She's not doing what I've been doing because she believes there's got to be an end for it, someday, somewhere. She got to live her life, defined her life outside of a costume and now I'm pulling her back into it with something she had long since overcome. I just can't have her being worried about me every time I step out to play Nightwing. She's come to my rescue more than once now…even on occasions when I just needed someone to hug. It's just not fair to her."

"Alright, alright…well then, what about me?"

"I don't even know you Proxy. I've never even seen your face," Nightwing's voice became soft, a whisper almost, "for all I know, you're just a voice in my head." He shook his head, "I'm not particularly liked by anyone, and those who do, or at least those whom seem too, do so much it hurts them. I've been shunned away by everyone; Cassie's spends more time at work than at home and my only friend from school, well she's frightened by me for some unexplainable reason. And on that matter, I wish I knew why. I can't investigate that as Nightwing, I have to be who I am," both of his hands reached for the fabric around his chest, pulling it forward enough so that his eyes could look upon the blue of the logo without much contortion, "outside of this costume."

"Are you saying that you're quitting because you want to search yourself? Like, soul searching?"

Nightwing clasped a palm to his chin, allowing to himself an opportunity to carefully think through the question that had posed to him. Nearly a minute had passed before he could work his tongue to give an answer, "yeah," he nodded his head affirmatively as his hand dropped back down to his side, "something to that effect. I'm seeing the world differently now, and I'll be honest, I don't really know who I am. I've got a lot of questions now that need to be answered…and, I know you're right, I can't do this alone, so I'm going to be doing something I really don't want to be doing…."

"Which is?"

Nightwing took in a deep breath, "I'm going to go talk to my mom, you know, wherever she is," the serious taste in his mouth suddenly dissolved as he began to vocalize his internal thoughts, "you know, when I find her, so, I guess, I'll be doing mostly that, but when I do find her, I can do this 'soul searching,'" he began to nod his head vigorously, "after a lengthy questioning period of course."

"I have an unidentified flying object."

"So, I'm still going to need your help I think. That's not going to be too much to ask right?" Nightwing raised his chin as silence filtered through the open communication feed, a period in which to foment the kindly Proxy to response; however, when the silence passed on far too long and it appeared that he was not to receive an answer, at least not one to his liking, he crossed his arms over his stomach and slumped down in his seat, "I see it," he grumbled. There was in fact something quite unidentifiable overhead, a streaking ball of steel grey shrouded in a profuse amount of smoke that had been acquired upon its entry and inevitable exit through the uniform cloud formation. There was no flame to be mentioned of, and yet it seemed to be exploding a multitude of times, albeit quite vapidly. There was no command or instruction given, the Blue Bird simply veered off from its standard patrol route to map out the trajectory of the descending object so that it, along with its so called pilot, would be there following its crash.

Colour wise, the exterior of the Blue Bird was much like that of Nightwing's costume; straight jet black across its form with a strong blue punctuated to clean cut regions throughout. The central piece of the craft was primarily oval shaped, the bottom side being particularly flatter than that of the top side which was more smoothly angled on account of the wide brim deep tinted blue windshield. This rounded characteristic, while dominant, came to an exception with the foot thick rectangular shaped box that sat at the back of the vehicle, just touching the top end of the windshield. This box end was remarkable flat though was not without some curves of its own, its top side being curved towards the back like one fourths a circle. On either side of this centre section were spike like wings that bowed outwards more so when closest to the cockpit before narrowing out to a point a good distance ahead of the craft's bulk. On the inner side of the wings were dark blue panels that were enfranchised within a strong black trim; they glowed with great impunity, humming to the ever increasing velocity of the craft.

The crash scene was reasonably clean, with the descending spacecraft seemingly having managed to chart a collision course along a long strip of back-way walking space wide enough to fit its circular saucer through. Even so, balance was a special issue for the spacecraft. The surrounding townhouses, whose backsides made the inside walkway, were particularly tall in stature and thus, the occasional collision could not be avoided. The damage these spot on hits were abysmal at the best, the soft metal of the round saucer section being no match for the solid foundation of the townhouses which suffered no more than superficial paint scrapes to their cold winter coloured paint jobs and the occasional dent, the most severe of which being around one particular straight lined window it hit at near centre on the way down. The most extensive damage to have occurred was, of course, the spot at which the craft hit the ground, churning up the black tar like cement with quite the ferocity, releasing the pressure of its compressed and compacted form to spread outwards into a multitude of small stones and pebbles. Dragged along this crumbling ground, it came to its final resting spot against the clean, windowless wall of another cold blue coloured townhouse nine stories high, no damage to the building's hull, at least none noticeable. All in all though, the absence of people was quite fortunate.

"I don't want to be doing this right now," Nightwing complained, "can you not call in someone else to handle this…batgirl maybe?" The Blue Bird came to a sudden stop just inside the mouth of the alleyway turned landing strip before manoeuvering sharply to the left so that its broad side faced inward of where the crashed spacecraft rested. From this high point, it slowly began to descend in preparation to land comfortably on the cement floor, "have you not been listening to me? I don't want to be dealing with these things anymore; there are these things I've got to take care of and this…this is just so terribly consuming."

"You're the closest we have in the vicinity. Investigate."

"I don't want to know what's in that thing," Nightwing stepped up his complaining demeanour, "could be the start of some alien invasion, or an infectious disease meant to wipe us all out-"

"Or it could be someone that is hurt and in need of our help."

"And you expect to win me over with that?" Nightwing snapped back just as the Blue Bird dropped to the ground with the crinkling of the wings' shocks being quite audible, "someone's always hurt, always needs help…I quit, I'm not doing this anymore." The gears central to the box shaped unit at the back of the vehicle began to stir, prompting the cumbersome windshield to disenfranchise itself and lift up from its slot configuration. With hydraulics pumping away, the windshield moved towards the back thusly revealing the grumpy Nightwing, his arms tightly clamped over one another on his chest.

"Last one then…get moving."

"Under protest," Nightwing angrily slammed his hands down upon the side railing facing the back alley walkway he was to investigate. Next followed his far side leg, and his body henceforth from the multiple points his limbs had attained; soon, he was on the ground, his legs being the first to become swarmed in gaseous fog that that emanated from the fallen spacecraft up ahead. The whole place was covered in the stuff, thicker and higher reaching up ahead, and even then so, the space above where he stood was partially mixed up in it; it would certainly take some time to filter out. As the young hero sifted his way through into the denser areas, he slowly swashed his hands out to his sides, spreading away what he could with the miniature wind storms his open palms caused in their wayward movements. "It's some kind of saucer, a flying saucer." Fortunate enough, the smog that surrounded the saucer had left its surface giving way to an apt view of the rather mangled saucer section of the craft.

"I'm having difficulty acquiring a visual link."

"There's some kind of big black ball," Nightwing brought his hands in reasonable close to one another, spread ahead at shoulder's length so as to give the impression that he was carrying a large invisible exercise ball, "it looks as though it hasn't been touched at all…" he promptly put a foot to a large, curving dent on the saucer section from which he lifted himself up towards the central ball discussed, leaning over it with an inquisitive eye when he acquired some stable footing, "I bet you this is where the poison is kept," he sounded off sarcastically. Investigating more thoroughly, he smoothed his right hand along the ball's surface, further bending his knees downward to get on appropriate eye level, "I'm not finding any imperfections, nothing." So, with such words spoken, he was understandably startled when the black glossy coating of the ball swiftly fell away like liquid compelled to drain under an insurmountable force of pressure. Revealed in the pitch black inside half of the remaining ball was a pleasantly cheerful fur covered chalk white face that appeared to have something to say but made no such movement of its mouth to articulate audible words; however, he still seemed quite able to say something all the same.

'Hello,' the soft, almost sweet sounding voice, but not a voice, pounded into the young hero's head like a rubber ended mallet. One leg gave way to another, and Nightwing was soon facing the ground, rattling his way down the crooked and bent saucer section to the chewed up pebble ridden cement of the alleyway floor. Shaking his head with much strain, the young hero managed to catch a good look at the smallish figure that had startled him, now that he, the alien, had come to stand up and look down upon him. The creature that Nightwing had encountered was dressed neck to toe in a rather bulky rustic red suit which had along its surface several bronze coloured straps that stuck mainly to surrounding his major joints such as his knees and elbows, being that he was humanoid to say the least, as well as the end of his sleeves and the entirety of his ankle high round almost hoof like boots. Perhaps the most striking feature of his being, in certain contrast to the colouration of his suit, was his perfect white face. Devoid of a definable nose or ears in addition to being perfectly round, the best descriptor that the boy in his presence could come to terms with was that he had the head of a snowman. His smile was impossibly wide, quaint and humble while his eyes were just as matching in immensity though the sky bound blue irises were notably small for the expanse of white they existed in. It wasn't long after noticing the fallen state of Nightwing that the alien politely hopped outside the remnants of his ball like cockpit and scuttled down the malformed saucer section at a rushing pace, hand reaching to help him right back on up to his feet, 'I'm so sorry, are you alright?' The alien pleaded, once more, that sweet touching sound of words, but not sound, echoing at the front of his head like a soft mallet. Too much dismay for the newly arrived alien, Nightwing turned away from his gentle hand, bolting straight up to his feet and stumbling backwards to get as much space between them as possible but never once turning the full of his back on the shocked, if not offended, being.

"Who are you?" Nightwing cried out after a significant amount of distance between himself and new arrival. He pulled his hands, forming them into fists as he prepared for the worst. Oddly, the landed alien was outright puzzled.

'I am Ozyron,' the fuzzy faced alien arched his head to a side, his mouth noticeably still not moving, but Nightwing nonetheless understanding full well what was being transmitted.

Nightwing shook his head of the soft mallet; the more he heard the words, but not really heard, the softer each strike became, "What are you doing on Earth? What do you want?" he barked out his questions as though they be commands.

'I have come to this planet to deliver a message on behalf of the elders of my home world, whom have overheard the gods and their words,' the alien allowed his lips to smile once more as his head became more shapely centre with the rest of his body; it was difficult to argue against him feeling pleased by this interaction.

"A message?" Nightwing's fists suddenly dropped down, coming to lay the flat of his palms against his side; for whatever reason, he had come to believe that this being, whoever he is, was of no threat to him or anyone else. "A message for whom?"

'A message for the one whom will prevent the destruction of this universe and many others like it, and do so by standing in between the two rival factions of the almighty gods whom now reign without their leaders, whom are now lost in the lawlessness of their own making and grasping at what scraps that remain of this fragile universe without paying heed to its natural ordering. She will herald them under her leadership and lead them away from their disposition to destruction, as she has done before and will do so again,' Ozyron responded in kind.

"Who exactly is that then?" Nightwing took a small step forward, leaning in the left side of his face as though that ear be more effective at hearing than the other.

'The people of this planet know her name by the name Troy, Donna Troy,' Ozyron nodded as best he could, his eyes appearing to softly close in the process.

"Oh," Nightwing suddenly jumped upwards half an inch, falling back from the one step forward he had taken moments ago.

'Have you heard of Troy?" Ozyron arched his head once more to a side, puzzled and intrigued just as Nightwing was in preparation for his revelation of identity, 'is she as well regarded on this planet as she is on ours?'

"Troy," Nightwing gulped followed by a series of nods in a positive manner.

'That is so,' Ozyron chimed in for affirmation, 'please, if you do know her, it is very urgent that I meet with her…will you take me to her?"

"Troy," Nightwing stated once more, this time with a relieving sigh, "I get called by that name sometimes."

* * *

"Sorry, could you please explain to me what it is that you're all about?" Nightwing's chin slipped up onto his shoulder, a point from which he quickly acquired the bright, wide opened eyes of the ever so sweetly smiling face of Ozyron whom he had comfortably seated in the passenger position that pulled up just behind his own pilot's seat following, of course, some minor shifting forward on his part. Well-adjusted to their seats, the wide brim windshield of the Blue Bird swiftly slid back and locked into its standard position, once more creating the blue tinted ambience that permeated the interior. "What's your name?"

'My name is Ozyron of the planet Ozyron,' the alien responded in his usual yet truly unusual way.

"Well, that seems kind of arrogant," Nightwing clambered his hands into the appropriately lined up piloting handles along the sides, the thick lines of electronic pitched blue soon lighting up throughout the breadth of his arms in response, "naming a planet after yourself and all. Are you the designated leader or just the driver? Either way, you're piloting skills leave much to be desired."

'I'm sorry, I'm afraid I do not understand your meaning," Ozyron puzzled.

"Ozyron…Planet Ozyron, no?" Nightwing questioned in jest.

'Oh, I'm afraid you have me misunderstood, the people of my planet all herald under the name Ozyron.'

"Really?" Nightwing's face scrunched up in surprise, "how is it that you…you guys…don't mix one another up?" He started to stumbled and strain through his word choices, but was all in all, concise and serious in his questioning. "Have you all got some kind of identity chip implanted your head?"

'In a manner of speaking,' Ozyron softly closed his eyes thus surrendering his face to the fullness of white fur, 'we are all intimately aware of one another, at all times, confusion, at least in my experience, has never occurred for I am aware of all just as they are aware of me…names hold no meaning save to outsiders whom are not familiar with our ways, hence we are all named so when we travel abroad."

"So basically, if I had to level that down to something I would understand…you're all telepathic, right?" Nightwing zealously questioned.

'Yes,' Ozyron remained straight to his casual self in response despite the boy's prodding excitement.

"Are you reading my mind now then?" Nightwing rang off with more intrigue than concern, "is that how you're communicating with me? How you understand me?"

"I'm afraid that interspecies mental connections are an arduous task for my kind," Ozyron knelt his head, seemingly in shame, "I do not possess such an ability and am unwilling to do so as I am uncertain as what would happen to myself or the others whom I am attempting to connect with…" he seemed to gulp, "it frightens me."

"Alright, fair enough," Nightwing nodded as he turned his focus from his passenger and on to the small piloting screen enfranchised within the dashboard ahead. He promptly pulled back on the piloting handles and instantaneously, the Blue Bird seamlessly lifted up from the pavement it was rested upon. The electronic hum of the vehicle's engine followed suit, its low level pulsating beat soon coming to dominate the occupants' ears.

'This is the way in which I communicate with others as it is for all my kind,' Ozyron continued along with the reopening of his eyes, 'in your understanding as you have judged…I am implanting thoughts. I suppose it is necessarily a far easier a task than the process of extracting them.'

"There's something that I don't quite understand though, uh, one thing really; I've noticed that you have a mouth…" Nightwing hummed off on his final word, the question seemingly implicit.

'There are some on my planet whom have learnt how to utilize their mouths as a form of communication, it is a talent of the poets whom have taken the most meaningful parts of our culture to create harmonies to which all of us, my kind, are especially connected in; we can sing, that is a gift to all,' Ozyron dutifully explained, 'the harmonies of our poets, the praises that we sing, it is the very reason to which the gods above us have taken such a notice in us. I had hoped that one day I would commit myself to the poetics more fully, perhaps then I would have learnt to use my voice for more than just singing.'

Nightwing shook his head back to wakefulness, "Hmm, interesting," he commented in a daze.

'Other than that, eating is a priority of my species,' Ozyron shrugged.

"Oh," Nightwing gasped, "are you hungry?"

'My hunger is satisfied. I departed from my world with three weeks' worth of nutrition stored within my stomachs. Besides, eating on my world is a communal activity amongst my kind and here I am, alone of my species. If it is helpful for your understanding in regards to future concerns, there still remains eight days before my hunger must be satisfied again.'

"Oh, you got me hooked at multiple stomachs. I'd love to say I've got something of that design within myself, multiple stomachs and whatever, but as it is, I'm already beginning to feel a little something at the base of my lone one," Nightwing chuckled.

'Should we first stop then, so that you may acquire a suitable source of nutrition?' Ozyron questioned in earnest, taking the boy's words as being descriptive of a dire situation.

"No, no," Nightwing shook his head, "I've sort of acquired this taste for fine dining and, well, the food in this part of town, it's been terribly tainted recently, so no, I'll be fine for the next few hours."

"Then we are on our way to meet Donna Troy?" Ozyron queried with the suspicion of an obvious answer.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Nightwing dryly responded as he slumped lowly in his chair.

"Nightwing, I've lost connection with the Blue Bird but I'm reading it as active, what's your situation?" The unseen voice echoed throughout the interior.

"I appear to have several connectivity issues," Nightwing responded in haste, "but it's all under control. I'm bringing it back in for a diagnostic now."

"Did you find anything?"

"Nothing worth the effort of our investigative skills," Nightwing sharply replied with his chipper tone now becoming mired in befuddlement, "it was just some broken spacecraft, a type C if I'm not mistaken according to the Batcomputer database…must of fallen out from a larger carrier and accidently wandered into the planet's gravitational pull. It looks more civilian than military however."

"Are you sure? I've been analysing the data on the objects trajectory and it seems to suggest to me that it was being piloted up until about four hundred fifty thousand kilometres outwards from where it crashed."

"Sorry, nothing to report," Nightwing continued to hurry the discussion to a hopeful and sudden conclusion. "Get a hold of the Justice League; see if they can send out a cleanup crew to collect it up."

"But…hold on, my tracking systems on the Blue Bird indicate that you're travelling west, that's the complete opposite of the parking bay…where are you going?"

Nightwing shook his head in frustration, "Fine," he coughed once, "I'm going to go see my mother…."

"Can this not wait? There is something about this ship that you're missing, that we're not seeing."

"No, nothing to report on my end," Nightwing quickly retracted his right hand from the handle and proceeded to mash his index and middle finger against the touch screen of the navigational computer where a thick horizontally lain neon blue bar stood out from the darker shade of the screens whole. His touching fingers proceeded to downwards, taking down with them the bar piece, the results of which being the dimming of the voice he was conversing with.

"Nightwing…."

When the bar hit its end, the communication feed was instantly filled with static which was inevitably brought to a silent ending seconds later; the signal was lost. "And that was the day that I defeated the invisible woman…" Nightwing complimented himself in good cheer, "have to admit, I didn't think that would work, though, it shouldn't take her long to figure out the encryption codes I implanted in the Blue Bird's core systems. She'll probably want to shut us down just to spite me, but maybe by then she'll have put it together that we don't want to be disturbed right now, right?"

Ozyron, however, was quite intrigued by the voice rather than overjoyed with its removal, 'Who was this woman to whom you spoke to?'

"Proxy?" Nightwing popped up a brow while his free right hand wavered up to his chin, "well, I don't really have an answer for that," he squinted, "I've never actual met her, or even seen her really. She's just some super computer genius person that my, uh, boss hooked me up with when I first got started playing superhero," he gave himself into a tight shoulder shrug as his hand slipped back down to the side where it promptly reached and gathered hold of the handle bar.

'Perhaps it would be wise to let her know of your current situation, lest she be determined to put a stop to your current activities,' Ozyron sought to caution.

"No," Nightwing shook his head, a gestured response in the resounding negative, "If I tell her that I've got the pilot of a downed spaceship onboard then there are going to be a lot of questions that I don't think either you or me want to be taking, it's her fault for assigning you to me in the first place. You don't seem very threatening to me, in fact, I'd go so far to say that you're genuinely kind and compassionate, you've certainly got the smile for that kind of character."

'Thank you,' Ozyron nodded.

"No, when it comes to my mother, it all sort of becomes this kind of a personal matter," Nightwing sighed, "as much as I hate it, I know it's something that I've got to be dealing with on my own, so to speak."

'I'd hate to inconvenience you on your personal quests, especially ones involving family; perhaps there is another whom is willing and able to take me to meet Donna Troy."

"Yeah, me," Nightwing sarcastically replied with profuse nodding, "I'm heading over to her place right now. She's got an apartment downtown. Though, I can't guarantee she'll be there. It seems to me that she's always out doing whatever it is that she does. At least, that's how it is every time I try to phone her," He rolled his eyes. His tongue suddenly turned to a serious edge: "you've probably already worked it out, so I'll try to be as blunt and honest as possible…basically, although I know it's just a coincidence that you're here at this time, but you're sort of my ticket in. She can turn me down cold, but not someone as prestigious as yourself, especially since you've come to deliver a message to her. And now, if I happen to be with you at the time, I might get something I want from her."

'I believe I have failed to correctly ascertain the meaning behind your words," Ozyron further humbled himself, "but may I be so bold to ask without any intention to offend, what does this personal quest of yours have to do with Donna Troy?"

Nightwing head bobbled from side to side in disbelief, more of a jitter than a shake, "she's my mother."

'Oh,' Ozyron seemed to gasp, drawing a tight bundle of air into his large fluffy cheeks, "most excellent," he expulsed with a smile that doubled upon his original, "I was most unaware that she had a child."

"You alongside everyone else," Nightwing grudgingly contended as he once against slumped lower in his chair, focussing ever so hard upon the blue sheen of the navigation screen.

A time of silence followed quite shortly in which Ozyron's delicate smile gave way into a frown, 'forgive me once more if I offend by fulfilling my curiosity, but it seems to me that you are not enthused by her mentioning, am I wrong in asserting such?'

Nightwing gulp, "no, not at all."

'May I then proceed to inquire as to the reason behind your distress about her?'

"It's a real story, at least, that's what I've been told all this time…look, it's all kind of complicated," Nightwing held himself up proper, his final line seemingly being his final say on the subject, "hmm, what is it that you see in her?" he piqued up, "what good is she to your people?"

'It is not my people alone to whom she serves wholesomely, not that we are not fond of her for what she has done and has yet to do, but rather she has been preordained to save all, those whom have lived, and those whom have yet to be, that is the destiny the elders have revealed to me as it applies to her, as I must tell her,' Ozyron detailed sufficiently.

"Save the universe," Nightwing commented almost mockingly, "I believe that's how you said it."

'Quite so,' Ozyron nodded in earnest but, as opposed to empowering feelings generated by this monumental moment, that being the delivery of the message to Troy, he found himself dismayed over the fact that her son was less than enamoured by her than he was, 'I cannot help but feel great cynicism in your words, the effect of which has left me distraught. Does it not inspire you, or at the very least, bring you kind feelings to know that you're mother is heralded as a great hero throughout the known universes, that many a people, mine included, sing praises of her most frequently? Does it not affect you, your heart, in the most pleasing of ways?'

"Oh yes, sure it does," Nightwing flippantly responded, "she's simply the greatest person that has ever lived," he clutched a hand to his chest, squarely placed atop his heart, "sorry, the greatest person that has ever lived and is ever to live," he concluded in a pompous character accent.

'Have I done so well to convince you of her greatness amongst the heavens, or have I made a misunderstanding of your words once more?' Ozyron puzzled.

"The latter," Nightwing returned sharply to a serious edge.

'What is it that she has done that you be left so bitter of her?'

"You really want to know?" Nightwing sneered.

Ozyron nodded, 'most certainly so.'

"I do not know if I should," Nightwing slipped into a casual, if not contemplative voice.

'Is it concerns for one's personal life that prevent you from divulging in details?' Ozyron queried.

Nightwing took in a deep breath followed by a coarse ejection of air, "no," he mumbled softly. "She abandoned me as a child, alright," his voice cleared with a gruff cough and subsequent gulp, "I was little more than ten years old when she left me on my own, and made it worse by promising she'd come back, but she never did. It was a long time ago," Ozyron's squinted in befuddlement with the boy's words sinking into him instantly, "I'm not trying to shatter you're world or anything, I totally respect that she's loved by millions…maybe even billions of people across the universe, but it's all different for me, I see, no, I saw her differently because she was my mother…and you know what? It hurt and it goes on hurting every time she climbs back into my life," he shook his head of the matter, "not that I haven't tried to make amends…whatever that means."

'On my planet, it is somewhat traditional that one be most close to their biological families,' Ozyron took in a deep breath before continuing to his question, 'is there not the same tradition on your planet?"

"There is," the young hero felt his head drop, "I had a family once, here I mean. It was adopted, but it felt like a family, my family, the kind of family you see on those old television shows that they don't air anymore." Ozyron calmly and quietly slid forward to the front edge of his seat from which point he proceeded to lift his chin up to one of the shoulder sides of Nightwing's chair. He was very intrigued by the boy's evolving sincerity but was disappointed by the lack of facial responses accounted to his full mask, "I had people around me who actually cared. A mother, a real loving mother, a sister I could do everything with, and a father…I'd never had a father before," he retracted a hand to plant upon his forehead, "this all sounds so stupid when I say it out loud, I never really cared about it all till recently, until it was gone," the hand slipped away from its point of touch, tumbling back down to its corresponding side with a slap against his thigh.

'I'm sorry that I cannot relate,' chimed in Ozyron, 'I have never been without my family. This is…is most startling to hear that Troy, whom her teammates championed as the 'den mother,' did not serve as so for her own offspring.'

"I didn't fit in, or couldn't fit in with her life," Nightwing glanced away from his navigation screen to the outdoors, admiring the architecture of the complex buildings passing by at unspeakable speeds, "those were formative years in my development and she wasn't around to….She just doesn't think of me as her son."

'But perhaps, you could be of great assistance in her in the coming trials, would it not please her to see her own son involving himself in such a grievous matter that she may be so enchanted as to call you her child once more?

"I could care less what she was doing, trouncing the villain as he or she goes to rob their eightieth bank, preventing the invasion of an otherwise peaceful planet with her admirable diplomatic skills, or, as you say, preventing the destruction of the universe by vengeful gods, all those plans of hers, they didn't include me. So why then should I be expected to include her in my life when she needs me? Let her do what she will but I want nothing to do with it. I stopped thinking of her as my mother a long time ago, the very day I realized she had left my life."

'And yet, it would seem, we are venturing to see her in part for your personal fulfillment," Ozyron shyly commented as he slid back into the bulk of his seat, noticeably overcome with grief.

"This is different, it's not about her it's about me, it's what I need," Nightwing coarsely spat back, restraining the rising anger at the base of his gut, "I have questions that need answering," he slowed himself down, "and only she can give them."

'What do you seek ask her, if I may be so bold?' Ozyron calmly asked.

Nightwing took a quick look over his shoulder, catching eye with his passenger for a brief moment before returning slowly to navigation screen, shaking slightly all the way in order to get the pleasantness of the alien's furry face out from his head. He took in a deep breath, "stuff you wouldn't get…like where did I come from, what is this place…those kinds of questions."

'Are you not interested in why it is that she abandoned you when you were so young?'

"Yes," Nightwing grudgingly replied in honesty. "But the answer would fundamentally involve her wouldn't it? And I don't want that," he coughed, "besides, she won't answer anyway."

Ozyron arched his head to a side, 'how can you be sure if you do not ask?'

"Because, I just do," Nightwing responded with a commanding voice but upon realizing so, stifled himself when he spoke again, attempting to return to his more casual voice, "we should be there in the next ten minutes."

'That time is most sufficient,' Ozyron smile widened.

"Time?" Nightwing's head suddenly shot up, "your space ship was a type C," he started to look around the cockpit, not look for anything that had been lost, rather cycling through the database of his mind, more specifically, the images from his recent memories, "propulsion on your ship, it is a perpetual motion machine. The saucer section, its constant turning produces the energy that fuels the propulsion system…there's no way you could have lost power," he hastily looked back over his shoulder, "you were attacked weren't you?"

'You're deduction is most accurate,' Ozyron applauded.

"By what?" Nightwing gasped as he once again returned his attention to the front.

'The Yorg,' Ozyron seemed to cower in his seat.

"The Yorg? Who are they?" Nightwing queried.

'Shadow beings from another dimension,' Ozyron began in his calm, informative manner, 'the surface of planet is unlivable for most, its desert like conditions is acidic to the touch and the winds are ever so relentless, but it is all a necessity for life for the sand and the acid storms form a layer of heat for my people whom have made their living in the catacombs beneath the surface. But the Yorg, they feast off of the acid. They are stripping our home world of its most bountiful resource and have through their might enslaved us. They have long since feared that should one of us manage to escape the surface, than we may return with help…I was one of five others dispatched with the message for Troy,' he lowered his head in grief, 'I am the only one who has survived.'

"And one of these things, a Yorg, it's followed you to Earth?"

'Yes,' Ozyron abruptly raised his head, 'I used all the energy that was available within the ship's fuel cells to stun it.'

"And how long is it stunned for exactly?" Nightwing held his breath.

'One hour,' Ozyron responded in kind, 'enough time it would seem to deliver my message to Troy.'

"Agh, forget the message," Nightwing barked. "How did it find you? Does it track you somehow?"

'The Yorg are telepathically endowed as my kind is, though much stronger. They have managed to stop many of our poets from spreading their music across the planet, but have yet to restrict the elder's connection to the heavens.' Ozyron took in a deep breath, 'I'm afraid that it will not be long after it regains consciousness. It will find me and come after me at which point I expect to die; therefore, it is very important that I see Troy as soon as possible.'

"Die?" Nightwing gasped.

'It is the only way in which to stop the Yorg," Ozyron remained true unto himself in his calmness, 'I shall release my consciousness into it and overload its mental synapses. It is the one weakness of their biology which can be exploited.'

"Yeah, and you're people are enslaved by them," Nightwing cried with strange, if not moody, sarcasm.

'The intentional taking of one's own life in my culture is not looked upon as well as it is in other cultures,' Ozyron dutifully explained, 'even in times of duress and struggle…I do not wish to see that my sisters and brothers give away their lives so that I may live free of oppression. Our society is docile, and as such, very communal. We are one, one song. I would be most lonely without their harmonies.'

"Well, what is that you think you're doing?"

'This is a matter of extreme importance, not to us alone, but to the whole of the universe,' Ozyron seemed to puff out his chest, 'my death is an extreme honour if it means the universe is saved.'

"This is ridiculous," Nightwing coldly stated. "I can find a way to stop it, believe me. And then maybe I can help you take the battle back to your home world…you're here now, you've escaped them. Now let's get some help."

'I am pleased by your gesture,' Ozyron bowed his head, 'but there are more pressing matters at hand.'

"You're right," Nightwing sniffed, "no one dies…I don't care what it's for. No dies while they're with me." His right hand clutched harder upon the handle bar from which he began to pull as hard as he could resulting the Blue Bird shifting gears into a wide swooping turn, "no one."

Ozyron instantly fell into a worrisome when the sharp turn tossed his body across to the outer side, 'are we departing from our intended course?'

"It's fortunate that I'm the one who's picked you up," Nightwing grinned, "there's a place, a safe house, that can dim you're, uh," he shook up a hand wildly, "telepathic stuff. Let's see if we can't give us more time before we have to deal with this Yorg friend of yours. Tell me all that you know about it, maybe we can find another, more humane way of exploiting that synapse, nerve, or whatever…."

'It is the only way which I know.'

"Yeah, well," Nightwing stomped his foot down, "you haven't had me in the trenches. I'm a problem solver. It's how I got this job. I can think of something."

'I believe it would be more prudent that we proceed to Troy so that the message from the elders may be delivered to her,' Ozyron seemed to plead.

Nightwing sniffed, "no. Don't give up…you'll still have plenty of time to study your poetics."

'Even if you were to learn of a way in which I would survive my encounter with the Yorg, it is not as though I can return home. It was a one way trip. I have made my farewells to those I love at home," Ozyron concluded, his heart surprisingly strong.

"I can get us there in twelve…maybe ten minutes if I really punch it," Nightwing pulled hard on both piloting handles at the precise moment that the wing tips aimed straight in the direction he intended to go. "I'll hook up with the safe house's computer," his right hand reached for the navigation screen, index finger once more extended and touching, "I'll have the shield in operation the moment we arrive…" his last word dribbled coldly, a spot of fact that the furry alien could not ignore.

'Is there something wrong?' Ozyron eyes scrunched up the fur above into rolls.

Nightwing let out a heavy sigh, "The safe house's system has been compromised."

'Is that bad?'

"No and…yes," Nightwing fumbled to respond, "the shield may still be operable, but the building itself is occupied. I'm searching through the code used to unlock the system, checking it with all personnel codes on file. Maybe we can figure out whom if we get a match and…." His shoulders slumped but his speech continued at a speed that nearly blurred the articulation of his syllables, "it's been jammed. They must have forced their way inside. I'm switching to the security camera feeds, getting a visual now."

'It appears to me that you are distressed over you're findings, is there not something wrong?'

"Agh," Nightwing's head fell towards his lap like a limp noodle, "it's the Ts," he looked back up to the dashboard screen, a suspicious look in his eye as the several dark trench coat wearing figures passed right on by the camera's eye, "perfect," he concluded in cold sarcasm.

'The Ts' Ozyron became puzzled, 'who are they?'

"They're a street gang, the second largest in all of Gotham City," Nightwing contended, "remember when I said that stuff about tainted food? Well, you can thank their leader for that. He and his goons doped all the city's imports with this heinous steroid drug that the street dealers call slappers. Batman took him down, but not before the F.D.A. found over a fourth of a quart of the drug in basically every canned food in the city. Kids got sick, some almost died in the first few weeks. The people are still waiting for clean shipments."

'Why would someone do such a thing?'

"The same reason they do everything else: competition," Nightwing sounded off with scorn, "their biggest rival in the area is another gang that calls themselves the Jokerz. They've been cutting into the Ts territory ever since Batman took down their leader several months before he got to the T's, some sort of reprisal thing for providing Batman with information about their leaders whereabouts and activities, but," he shook his head, "to the best of my knowledge, that never happened, they're just looking for a reason to start a fight. Both gangs are now without a clear command structure and now their starving due to their own stupid actions. They've fomented their own world of anarchy and their suffering because of it."

'This is a very unfortunate situation,' Ozyron commented,

"Yeah, well, it's not my city. I just use it from time to time," Nightwing smirked.

'I must admit that I have heard of others tales much like it.' Ozyron arched his head as he queried to his nature, 'is their not someone whom can stand between them, not as foe but as their so called shepherd, perhaps to draw them to a better way of life?'

"It's only a matter of time, but for which purpose they get led to…I don't know. Either way, it just restarts itself into another cycle. Batman will take down the new person, and then someone else will step up and we'll be doing it all over again once that person goes sour. And maybe that time round, it'll be something more than food poisoning," Nightwing took in a large gulp of air, "I'll swing in around back. Wait in the Blue Bird till I've taken care of the Ts inside. I'll notify you then…we still have some time don't we?"

* * *

There was a sharp pain at the back of this gang member's head, a pain that forthrightly dulled all of his senses, exploiting a vestige of tiredness and thus, defeating his will to survive. The more he reached to cradle the pain at the top of his skull, the more he felt its swelling, the seeming growth of skin that would inevitably become an unsightly dome like bubble on his bald scalp. Every touch of his fingertips exacerbated the pain but he could not stop analyzing its structure; its continued infliction and fascinating feature unintentional benefit of allowing him to power on forward towards his destination, deterring his decline into the malaise of sleep. Down the dark corridor he went, with that brightly lit opening just up ahead alongside the wall he used to support himself.

He was a rather lanky individual, certainly muscled but lacking in overall fortitude. Whatever more he may have had in physical impressions was well hidden behind a large grey trench coat noted for its multitude of straps along the front of his chest, though, only a handful of them were actually fastened. Pitch black military apparel made up the rest of his wear: thick soled, steel toed boots, sleeveless Kevlar like vest, coarse multi-layered pants. Evident enough, the most peculiar feature of this gang member was the blood red 'T' painted at the forefront of his face, the top bar of the letter running across the broad length of his eyes. To further clarify the image of the single letter, his skin was stained chalk white; he was a member of the T gang, and this full body design was the way in which they went about in public. "Batman!" he screamed, the last syllable being gurgled in a vacuum of saliva but nonetheless comprehensible. He reached a hand up for the steel lined door frame, the door itself absent, and leaned upon it in hopes that he would not collapse as his body ever so desired.

The room that led in from the door frame the despondent thug pressured himself up against was quite small or, at the very least, considerably narrow from his perspective, with just over fifteen paces from one broad wall to the other, his left to right. The first section inward, for it was divided nearly evenly into two parts, was the kitchenette, the noted divide being shown through its use of flooring materials, in this case comprised of foot by foot steel faced tiles as opposed to the carpet of the later section. The tiles were noticeably thick to the stepping of feet, absolutely solid through and through to the base of the earth. The stomach high counter creeping out from and surrounding the wall to the thug's immediate left followed in fashion with the floor, being an uncompromised steel finish. With a blue laser sealed refrigerator and attached freezer, a high filtered oven with near body long depth, and a pop up toaster to top it off, along with the usual expected kitchen furnishings, this kitchenette was certainly on the high end of its kind, luxurious in all areas. The second section could perhaps be best described as an entertainment room, the furniture local to this area being a three person black leather like couch lined up against one side, the thug's right, and a wall sized wide angled television screen no more than an inch thick on the opposing wall, the thug's left. The carpeted floor was noticeably thin and as such every bit as solid as the steel tiles; its colours comprised coarse purple and blue blends of threads. Of what both sections shared in full was the low tempo blue colour that spanned the walls and ceiling.

Enfranchised within the wall opposite the kitchenette's counter set up were two steel faced doors. The first of these in line to the front entrance appeared to have been frequently used for its lock box, the formerly square cut object sprouting from the wall with a number of buttons, had been berated with a few hit from a blunt object and thus was in a bit of a tattered state; needless to say, the door had been opened, indeed, even currently, it was no perfectly closed, surviving an opening less than a fraction of an inch. The lock box for the second door had faired a similar treatment to the first, but its door appeared quite sound, the vandals seemingly resorting to thrashing their blunt item against the door itself which certainly showed a number of denting wounds but not a single puncture. Of special note to this room was that there were no windows, no way in which the outside world could be viewed, and thus relied upon the day light inspired fixtures overhead that ran the breadth of the ceiling in thin bars, crossing from side to side, for its lighting.

Of what else could be said of this small living space was not a permanent fixture but rather something devoted to purposes of satisfying hunger, food, that the shelves appeared to have once carried in abundance. There were plenty of grease stains about the area along with cumbersome amount of manufactured, multi-coloured plastic and wax wrappers conglomerated upon the countertop and strewn across the floor of the entertainment section; it was a mess in need of some hard effort to clean, something these inhabiting gang members would be more than willing to put on hold for other, more meaningful activities.

There were five persons within the room aside from the middling entry of the dazed thug, two of which were noticeably younger than the others, kids to be precise, a boy no older than twelve and a girl not that much older, both of which were sitting comfortably on opposing ends of the lone couch. For the longest while, their young eyes were fixed upon the nightmarish cold white glare of the massive screen ahead, but when the beaten gang member exclaimed the name of that all too notable hero, well, they couldn't help but glare in his direction, jaws frozen dropped and eyelids unable to blink.

"Jake? Are you sure?" questioned a fellow gang member whom promptly rushed up to his comrades side to support him, his first act being the forcing of his strong arm around the poor thug's backside from which point he applied a stiff lift to get the man back on his feet. The assisting gang member was a tad bit taller and more so filled out than his colleague, though this would be saying of him that he was a man of average build. As a fellow gang member, his face was just as painted up in white and blood red and similar military styled accruements, though his jacket was noticeably shorter and lacked any proper body wrapping straps.

"Do you know anyone else with bat ears Fitz?" cried Jake in pitiful sarcasm as he hobbled inward of the room with Fitz's support.

"Dylan, Audrey, pull the couch out from the wall and get behind it," Fitz hastily commanded as he tossed out his free hand towards the seated, gawking children on the couch. "Zapista? Can you help them?" he called out to a fellow gang member whom stood nearby, throwing his arm across from the scouring children to the position he wanted to couch to be dragged to. Now a significant distance inside the room, he carefully knelt down to the ground in order to provide for Jake a smooth transition to the floor, sitting him up against the wall between the two steel faced doors he and his colleagues had attempted to breakthrough earlier in the day, however, succeeding only on the one.

The young woman whom had nodded in response to and dutifully followed Fitz's command was Zapista, a lanky individual much like that of her fellow teammate Jake though faired considerably better in height, standing nearly two heads taller than he. Like the others, she wore the thickly sewn pants and steel toed boots, however, her shirt was noticeably single in layering, worn impeccably tight to her torso, sleeveless, and thin strapped, thereby leaving a significant amount of space of showing skin beneath her head; it was simply not as protective of her persons compared to the uniform worn by the others. While her letter was painted in the boldness of red, par in line with the gang, the chalk white glaze over her bald scalp made her face look of stone; never smiling, never ceasing to deprive joy of all those whom looked upon her.

"Man Fitz, I told you we shouldn't have broken into this rich man's hiding hole…they're all friends with Batman, he's everywhere." This squealing voice arose from a rather heavy set individual, noted for his bulky limbs and round fitting head to an impressive herculean shoulder span. Like the others, he was within uniform for the gang but without trench coat or sleeves; his shirt, more of a vest, could be passed off as Kevlar. He shook his massive hands out towards Fitz, watching him with his small beady eyes as the claimant leader ensured that their helpless colleague on the floor was comfortable, a part of which included the ejecting of a black painted box like hand gun from a pocket on the interior side of his jacket and handing it over to the dazed Jake with a simple directive to shoot when deemed necessary.

"Frog," Fitz snapped as he returned to an upright, standing position. He sharply turned around to the large sized member of their group and stared him down with a dishevelled crinkling snarl upon his face, "I'm hungry," he shook his head ever so slightly in a negative fashion, "you starving too?" he suddenly turned towards the entrance way, its lack of a door certainly representing a security issue, "you want to blame someone for this? Blame Tyler for poisoning everything and forcing all our kids back onto the streets scavenging for scraps."

"Tyler?" Frog shook his shoulders in disgust as he took some steps forward and leaned in hard upon the Fitz's side. Despite the impressing of his weight, the lower standing teammate ignored him wholesomely, keeping his keen eyes upon the dark corridor, "why you got to be turning on our friends man? Remember why Tyler did for us, what he's made us up to be."

"Shut it Frog," Zapista scoffed. The tall girl had barricaded herself and the two children behind the bulk of the turned couch, keeping its tall backside, the makeshift wall, facing the room's entranceway just a couple feet back of the steel tiled floor. One of her knees was planted on the couch's centre cushion while her hands cupped and pushed the heads of the kids' whom were knelt down at either side of her.

"Yeah, shut up Frog," Jake spat.

"Would you just block the door?" Fitz shook a hand towards the open entranceway, taking a quick peak over his shoulder to the grimace expression on Frog's face.

The floor maintained its strength under the thunderous weight of the resentful, foot stomping Frog, whom shook his head in disapproval as he made his way into the thin steel lined door frame, his disparaging colleagues looking upon him all the while. "Blaming Tyler just ain't right Fitz," he continued his stream of outrage in his screeching voice. He pressed a hand up to their corresponding sides on the door frame, using the strength acquired by their pressure to lean forward, "you know who we should be really blaming for this?" he lifted his chin up as he immersed his head in the darkness of the corridor, "Batman."

"Batman?" A chipper unknown voice broke in, "really? Where?" Following the sound of those puzzling questions posed, Frog arched his expanse of vision downward, ramming his chin into the plump of his chest, to which he found, to great astonishment, a small character of sorts, dressed in black much like the man he and his colleague feared greatly, but different, and thereby distinct, in a variety of aspects. The height, the silver shine of his gauntlets and boots, and the most striking visual of all, the blue falcon emblazoned upon his chest; this was certainly not Batman.

"Huh?" Frog's browse popped up in puzzlement.

Exploiting the lumbering thug's slow movements of the lumbering thug, Nightwing prepped his legs for a sprint; however, the distance between him and the wall forming thug was short, allotting only two hurdles of steps, the conclusion of which saw him dropping to the ground, sliding with his dominant leg forward beneath and in between the thug's legs.

Rather than dropping the top of his head to the ground so that his eyes could follow the young hero as he slid beneath him, for his chin had reached the solidity of his chest, Frog opted to turn around, pivoting on the flat face of his right foot and swinging around his left to get an even standing facing inside the room. He had only a few seconds time to stabilizing himself properly, and too much dismay, he was once again greeted with another startling sight regarding the young hero whom had, rather than gone into the depth of the room, stayed within close proximity of him, laying on his back with both legs in the air, arched the knee, the bottom side of feet aimed for his knees. "Agh!" He let out a blood curdling scream the moment Nightwing's legs unleashed like springs, deflecting off the sides of his knees but nonetheless inflicting enough devastating damage to drop him to the floor, cradling his legs in pain.

Emulating the squirming of a common worm, Nightwing arched and flattened his back repeatedly at an impeccable rate, doing so that, at the moment of breaking free of Frog's bodily orbit, he could successfully, as he did, perform a backwards, twirling flip onto the flat of his feet, landing in such a manner that he would face the occupants of the room. "You're not Batman," his voice rung out with disappointment, as though he had half-heartedly expected the elder hero of his clan, of who defined it, to actually be present at this gathering. The first of the gang members he was to notice following entry, for he was quickly deemed to be the most threatening, was the moaning, string limbed thug that he had fought with moments earlier, seated on the floor with pistol in hand, its end aimed upon him. In response, he swiftly slid out a standard bat shaped disc, a wingding, from the chamber straddling the inside of his right forearm into his corresponding palm. With a split second pull and release, the wingding twisted on a near perfect curvature towards the thug, the rounded edge of one of its wings coming to slap against the thug's gun totting hand, instantaneously gaining from him a high pitched gurgling scream as the laser spewing weapon promptly dropped from his control.

Moving forward towards his next target, Nightwing made the decision to drop the tethered, steel shined batons, his escrima sticks, from the bulkier outer parts of the compartment, grabbing hold of their tubular form with practiced precision. With a swing of his left arm, he pushed aside the punch that flowed from the group's apparent leader, Fitz. He followed this manoeuver through with the circular end point of the escrima stick in his right hand smashing into the dead centre of the man's forehead. With his current fighting partner dazed, he dropped down on his left knee and laid on a punch from the near flat back side of his left hand into the man's gut, drawing him to lean over and clutch himself in pain. Swiftly straightening up, he proceeded to finish off his opponent, planting a foot upon Fitz's lowered head and sending him sprawling towards the backside of the couch, groaning in wraths of pain as his attempts to stabilize himself only furthered his toppling over.

There was but one gang member left to be dealt with, Zapista, and she was perhaps the most smartest of all her colleagues, for her attack was worked and timed on the angle of surprise in the sense that in the concluding moments of the hero's fight with Fitz, she lunged at him from atop the couch, gliding over Fitz with both hands ready to clutch his torso, doing so with admirable success. Shocked as he fell backwards under her pushing weight, he was nonetheless prepared through his training for such occurrences. In the midst of their falling, his arms swung out to their farthest reaches before inevitably swinging inward with a hefty spark of strength enacted upon them. The broad length of both escrima sticks crushed Zapista's head in between them, like cymbals meant to be clapped. On the floor however, he came to realize that the strength of Zapista, more specifically, her head, was poorly judged on his part, and rather than be knocked out or at the very least, stunned, she was quickly scrambling forward upon him so that her hands could clutch his throat. Within her eyes, he could see that she was now running upon pure instinct. Hard as she may try however, the strength of many would not be capable of breaking through the shielding provided by his costume, let alone her alone. Dropping the escrima sticks, he grabbed hold of her hands and pulled them away from his throat with the expected, albeit supremely weak, resistance she held against him. Slowly, he made his way back onto his feet, his hands sliding upwards of her arms to plant themselves on her shoulders when he came to stand upright. There were signs of duress in her face; the gnashing of teeth, the crinkling of skin around her nose, the blood shot eyes. She had been forced down with nowhere to go and as such, Nightwing pulled away his left hand, twitched it so that the tether cord would bring back the attached escrima stick to hand, and prepared to hammer it across the left side of her face. He was all ready to go when an unexpected plea for mercy crossed and sparkled in his ears.

"Strop!" Fitz cried. The beaten thug reached out a humble hand towards the hero, all fingers distanced and inarticulate to one another.

This outburst certainly had an effect on the young hero; fear, he had encountered before and had long since learnt to use its presence to his advantage in combat, but the sincerity in that cry was something different, far off from the usual cries that street gangs such as the Ts employed.

"Please," Fitz concluded through heavy panting, his arm dropping lifelessly to his lap with a slap when its weight grew to be too much.

The desperation heard in Fitz's voice saw Nightwing's hand slip from Zapista's shoulder. "Kids," he uttered under his breath in confusion. Slowly popping up from behind the couch top were the two frightened kids, Audrey and Dylan, whom were pleasantly plain in their persons as opposed to the uniforms exclusively worn by the gang members. Audrey's face was clean of any paint and sported long strawberry red hair that had been tied into two tails that graced along the sides of her neck in clumps before circling down her backside. Her plain, short sleeved shirt matched her eyes: emerald green. Dylan was perhaps the closest in emulation to the gang members, in that he wore a thick grey jacket like theirs, but, as opposed to the stylized black vests, wore a handsomely fitting light blue shirt. His hair was short and fair, his eyes however, just as green as his sisters. They appeared to be in shock, the beats of their young hearts racing against one another with little to no hope for control, making the common, instinctual act of breathing difficult. "Does someone want to explain the kids to me?"

"They're my siblings. I'm the one responsible for them now since my old man dropped," Fitz groaned as he pressured his back against the couch, using its support to get up onto his feet. He placed a delicate hand upon Audrey's shoulder, shaking her out into a wakeful state before returning his attention to the hero. Proving unable to straighten his back all the way and finding it difficult to muster a lung full of air, he was in evident pain as he spoke, "I had nothing to feed them…" he placed his nearest hand upon Dylan's shoulder next, calming the boy down at a near instant, "we had nothing…but I wasn't going to let them starve, not me. That's why it's me in charge," he shook his head.

After spitting to a floor one foot ahead of where Nightwing stood, Zapista wiped her mouth and began the slow trudge to the television side of the room, mumbling crude expletives as she did so.

A quick flexing of his hands and the tether cords on his escrima stick began to rotate inwards, the sticks themselves shooting back and locking into their corresponding compartments at the speed of a fired bullet. "So you disregarded private property rights and broke into several apartments with your fellow deadbeats until you found something that could be swallowed."

"The well-off man, they've got all that they need. We ain't taking from those like us," Fitz was quick to argue in favour of a perceived collective soul, "all they've ever done is exploit us, leave us broken and homeless, hungry while they continue to stuff themselves in their happy homes. It's about time they gave us some shelter, some place safe from wack jobs-like the Jokerz…is it too hard to ask for a meal?"

"And what are you looking for? Sympathy? From me?" Nightwing scoffed.

"I told you fool, he's a friend of all these rich people, that's why he's here. He's their tool, a soldier armed with their weapons," Frog shouted with a hefty dose of scorn, instantly drawing Nightwing to look back to him. Too much surprise, the heavy set thug had managed to move his broken body away from the door and sit up his backside against the inner side of the door opposite the kitchenette.

"We were just looking for something to eat," Fitz claimed in his battered tone.

"You, you're the ones who caused this, what's going on in the city…and now you're looking some lee-way because you're hungry and scared? And you thought everyone else was just going to put up with it? Sympathy, especially now that you're a guardian of someone else than yourself?" Nightwing abruptly turned around to face Fitz, pressing towards him a menacing finger. "You want to know who's starving your brother and sister, look no further than the company you're keeping. All of you," he briefly looked to all the gang members he had ruthlessly beaten on, "you've all brought yourselves to this."

"This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out."

"There are decent people out there, working hard every day so that they can feed their families," Nightwing rammed up closely to the cowering Fitz, "good, honest people who are now starving because of your stupidity. Dregs like you just can't stand it…it sickens me to think you're the one responsible for your siblings. They look barely older than thirteen."

"This is all Batman's fault," Frog chimed in once more with distaste, "this wouldn't have happened if he didn't put away Tyler for good…we wouldn't be here now, out of your hair as they used to say," his blubbery lips caused him to mumble off his final words.

"Batman?" Nightwing cried in prompt sarcasm before returning to his despondent yet half-angelic character and the voice that rose above it, "don't you see what's going on?" he shrugged his shoulders, "what you dregs are doing? The violence, your stupidity, it's always escalating. You were a common street gang before this all started, a group of rebels with no other goal than thrills, but then you gave yourself away into this blind belief that you were superior to the other gangs like the Jokerz who wanted nothing more than what you wanted. You just had to compete with them. So then you involve yourself in petty thievery, then armed robbery, then organized crime, then drug trafficking, then stolen weapons trafficking, and now this…You're hurting yourselves, a slow senseless death of your own making. We have to overreact, but the people still suffer because it never ends. You dregs just can't help yourselves. It never ends and it just keeps getting worse." He took in a deep breath, "how long will it be before your brother and sister are out there slaughtering kids on the streets?"

"And what makes you so righteous?" Jake spat out.

Nightwing kept a straight face as he looked down to Jake, "this is my place, that's why." He began to stomp his way over to the battered, though unopened door Jake sat next to, "and I'm getting tired of it."

"What is that?" Zapista, with the most disturbed look on her face, pointed towards the entrance way where a pleasantly smiling, white furred creature in a copper coloured pilot's suit was standing. Ozyron, as Nightwing knew him to be, arched his head to a shoulder as his eyes widened in wonder.

Nightwing looked over to him, "that's a friend of mine…be nice now. He also needs a place to stay, thankfully though; he's not stealing food from those who really need it." He slammed his right hand into the broken lock box at the side of the door and frantically began to shake it around. Inevitably, the entirety of his hand managed to slide inward, albeit quite awkwardly, soon becoming fully engulfed by the mixed jagged piece of hammered metals and cumbersome amounts of electrically zapping cut wires, none of which had an adverse effect due to the protective layers of his costume.

"But what is he?" Zapista continued to question as she moved to the centre of the room. The disturbed look that had once dominated her face turned into a puzzled grin as she made the bold decision to approach the smallish alien, only to be beaten there by Fitz's young brother Dylan, whom pattered up on ahead with a quite a large dose of wonderment on his face. All the others, Frog, Jake, Fitz, the young girl Audrey; they were frozen in their positions, simply gawking at the presence of this strange invader.

"He's Ozyron of the planet Ozyron," Nightwing shook his hand out of the remnants of the lockbox in disgust, his attempt at dispelling the lock having failed. As this was, he promptly placed the full flat face of both his hands upon the face of the door, feeling them over the large, robust dents, "what did you people attack this door with?"

"A sledge hammer," Zapista commented with great zeal, "the other one broke open easy, but that one…it gave us too much trouble, more than it was probably worth anyway. Right?" She popped up an eyebrow, "there's not like a pantry in there or something?"

"No," Nightwing spat back, his patience understandably running thin on her intrigue. In order to get the door open, he planted a foot upon the largest dent he could locate on its face and pressed upon it with the strength of several sledgehammers as provided in ample doses by the technology of his suit. The pushing inward eventually revealed on his left hand side the door's edge, its thin, interior siding, which he proceeded to grip onto with both hands. Dropping his foot, he pulled away the door like it was cardboard before harmlessly tossing away to the spot that originally held the couch. He knew he had to be careful with the pressure he had applied, that's why he aimed so low; nevertheless, it appeared that his care was for a loss. "No!" he shouted, this time in disappointment over his ill discovery. Behind this door was essentially another door, a large, dark monolith like object less than a foot inward of the door's frame. The object was for the most part a pure shade of black, but as to what had caught the attention of the young hero were the straight edged, crimson red veins that symmetrically rode throughout its visible face, their multitude occasionally crossing amongst one another and forming standard hubcap sized circles that more or less lined up on top of one another down the centre of it. It was the lowest most three circles which had alarmed him so for they had been crushed, seemingly so by the blunt force trauma of a pounding sledgehammer as it had been described to him.

Nightwing fell into a deep pattern of heavy breaths, the kind that could only arise from sheer disbelief, as he stepped away from the large dark object. "Stupid," he groaned as he spontaneously lurched forward towards the monolith, leaning into a solid kick that completely destroyed the lowest most red circular cap. "Agh," he groaned once more in anguish, this time clenching both fists and hammering them up against it. Additional words of disappointment and disillusionment spewed from his mouth, one to many obviously being far outside his zone of comfort but reasonably fitting giving the situation; for the most part, however, what he said was inaudible for he never rose much higher than muttering. When his hammering fists had given their final blow, the top of his head slowly planted itself against the monolith in shame, his arms dropping and subsequently hanging lifelessly off to his sides.

'Hello,' Ozyron fell down to a knee as he greeted the small boy less than a step away from him. His head began to sway from side to side as he analyzed the bright, innocent eyes of the child, his smile ever so prominent to his snowball like face.

Dylan appeared to be alarmed at first for the method of greeting as espoused by the alien was not one he had expected. But with a reassuring nod, he understood the peace of Ozyron and humbly acknowledged him, "hello." He kindly reached a hand for Ozyron's face, gently touching the fur which laced his jaw, "you're not…from here, right? From earth?" He gingerly asked as the ticklish fur fell in between the scissor like shape of his fingers. "Yes, I understand you," Dylan blinked as he turned away for a brief moment, "I've always wanted to meet someone other…other than from here." He could not help but smile once he noticed that the pleasant alien enjoyed the free flowing movements of his hand along the curvature of his plush, furry cheek.

"What is that thing?" Zapista asked as she approached the young hero.

"It's was a shield generator," Nightwing calmly acknowledged. He raised his head up momentarily for a sigh and then it crash straight on back into the wall like object, "it's broken now."

"Whoa, what is this place?" Zapista continued her line of inquiry.

"Never mind that now," Nightwing's head suddenly lifted from the shield generator, "wait," he suddenly looked over to the solidity of the room's back wall and steadily marched towards it, "do you hear that?" he sharply turned to the clueless eyes of those whom had been paying him some attention, the most notable exceptions being Dylan and Ozyron whom had begun a seemingly one sided conversation.

"How is it that they're communicating," Fitz pointed towards his brother all while keeping a steady eye upon Nightwing, "what's going on there? Why can't I hear what that thing is saying?"

"He's a telepathic, but forget that for right now," Nightwing shook out an open hand to Fitz, a symbolic gesture meaning that his concerns were unfounded, "just listen to that. Can you hear it?"

"Hear what?" Jake grunted as he rose to his feet, spare hand still clutching the bulb at the top of his head.

"Sorry, yeah, my suit's sensors are more acute than the standard human feeds," Nightwing slammed his hands to his head from which they proceeded to pull downwards so that his chin was just barely scraping his chest, "motor bike tire scrapes, broken glass…heinous laughter…" he suddenly popped right back up, a small hop ensuing in excitement just before his face turned terribly sour with the realization of just what it was he was hearing….

Fitz took in a deep, disgruntled breath, one with quite the menacing touch, "Jokerz."

* * *

The large grouping of silent, cold coloured townhouse complexes had recently been invaded by five colourful, however garishly dressed, group of characters whose laugh alone caused people to flee into their homes or to the bypassing alleyways to avoid whatever carnage they may bring with every step. They were well known in these parts, the Jokerz, preying on whomever dare remain on the scene at the time of their arrival, be it the weakest of the weak, the strongest of the strong, and whoever lay in between; their strength was in numbers and an unhinged conception of morals. At first, they had been coasting along the clean asphalt of the in-way streets surrounding the townhouse complexes on their robust motorcycle units, but when they encountered a set of tightly spaced bollards, stomach high cylindrical steel flavoured pillars enfranchised in the ground, laid out in a straight line along the gaping entrance way into an interior walkway, they parked their bikes just outside the barrier and departed on foot. They entered this once pleasant, quiet abode with either a menacing grin or uncouth laughter; it was evidently clear that they had a destination in mind, a place where they had to be.

To either side of them was the revisionist classic architecture that had long since come to dominate the city; plastic overlays overtop of steel beams and mixed concrete foundations. These six to seven stories high townhouses were notorious for their perfect brick like faces, rectangular block hard plastic overlays with just the right amount of space in between them to be seen as indistinguishable from one another. Even the floor which separated them was noted for such a form, its intricate design consisting of sandstone coloured blocks that turned on one another in a twister like format, forming large spiralling circles up the entire strip of walking pass. It was all inhumanely perfect, and yet something was wrong. Each window was dark, dimmed by their built in electronic devices. Each Door was locked, secured by a laser lined finish. Only the approaching gang of thugs and bandits in the middle hours of the day could be blamed for such occurrences and yet, for them, the Jokerz, this it was the perfect scenery, the perfect neighbourhood, for their rambunctious activities, and thus it fell under their territory claims.

Trudging his way several strides ahead of everyone else was the largest, most muscle bound character of the encroaching gang. His costume consisted of a colour divided long sleeved shirt, one side devoted to the colour red, the other green. The full view of his shirt however was supplanted by black body suit that covered both legs and just about the entirety of his torso, missing out on the circular top below his chin where it was plainly clear that the red and green fabric of his shirt underneath was cleanly cut down the centre. The full of his face, much like that of a T gang member, was painted over in a chalk white but rather than the letter to identify his allegiance, he had painted on two black triangles, one to each eye. His cheeks were large and bubbly just as his chin was; their bulging presence growing with the increasing openness of his tooth filled smile. The most striking feature of his costume was perhaps the hat, which modelled itself after a court jester's with two long tails, one red the other green, just as it was with his shirt.

There were two other boys in this grouping of Jokerz, both nearly matching to one another in stature but nonetheless dressed in their own unique garish, clown fitting outfits. One of these boys was particularly noteworthy for his long running slick deep green hair that flowed over cleanly shaved sides, the face paint he wore was certainly fitting, with a poorly applied chalk white base and chiselled clean green circles, one covering the fullness of his lips, and one surrounding each eye. His smile was cartoonish but his teeth were stained yellow and engrossed in a thick layer of saliva. He wore a pitch black suit like that of his leading colleague but wore overtop a bright, lime green jacket that was certainly more than three times his fitting size and was notable for a cumbersome amount of pockets. The other boy was almost an inversion of the aforementioned, with red as his dominant colour. With the exception of face busting out through a decently sized circle, his head was covered in a full crimson red cowl that connected seamlessly with the body suit that traversed all the way down to his knees before mixing with horizontal lines of white that turned out rather candy cane like in fruition. His face paint lacked the traditional base layer of white, opting instead for the simplicity of two rosy red circles on the bubble of his cheek bones and a deep purple circling around the interior of each eye. The immensely dark jacket he wore was long, nearly reaching his shins, and despite the multitude of straps that ran down his front side, not a single one was fastened, thereby leaving metal lockboxes roaming free, clanging into one another with low pitched dings as he walked.

The other two of this odd ensemble were two girls whose collective looks passed, with great reason, as twins. Their dark, raven coloured hair was tied up into a bun that sat nicely at the back of their respective heads, while their long fabric, though only thigh high reaching, dresses were coloured the most unusual bright pink with the oddest shades of yellow for trimming. Their faces were pristinely symmetrical, with large bright blue eyes and a razor point chin. Of what could be said to separate them was the face paint they wore; over the standard white cover up, one had red triangle surrounding her eyes, the other, squares.

It wasn't long before the rowdy group of clowns encountered the exiting Ts from their supposed basement dwelling, tapping up the short stepped, tiled stairwell to the swirling patterned brick floor they waited upon. Fitz was the first to exit, followed quickly by their large gun, Frog, then Jake and Zapista rounding out the last. When they had all gotten on level with their rivals, they slowly spaced out to match them, their eyes swiftly caught in the huff of scorn when they locked onto one another. With the clouds blotting the sky in darkness, this was a true standoff, but the Ts, as it happened to be, were short a member, a fact they were very well aware of.

"Heard there was a hotspot here that you and your buddies were exploiting. You're in Jokerz territory," the large, muscled leader stepped towards to Fitz, stopping when they were within arm's reach at which point he puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. His voice was like a coarse whisper that had its decibel level turned up past eleven, "do you know what that means for you and your pals?" He raised a menacing finger and pointed towards Fitz's chest, "do you?" he smirked.

"After a good day of tumbling with the wise guys of Gotham, the Jokerz always break through on their protection of the local neighbourhood," the slick green haired Jokerz member chimed in with his terribly off pitched voice. He tossed his hands out far to his sides, his open palms just a tad bit higher than the level of his head, "we always make good, always, always, always, always," he took several steps forward to get to his brutish leader's side before his arms dropped back to their appropriate sides with a shrug and a slap.

At that moment, Nightwing, with his blue, triangular pointed wings retracted beneath his arms, rocketed from the basement dwelling hole, bypassing the stairwell by turning on a sharp curve up into the sky. Needless to say, the show he put on, in addition to the twirls of cougher's grey smoke left in his wake, caught the attention the Jokerz. Fearful of what time they possessed for brawling while lost in the young hero's image, they were quick to make a poor deduction of his identity.

"Batman!" the Jokerz leader shouted, his following crew just about ready to scatter at the mere mention of the name, but when the young hero made a clean landing just ahead of Fitz - his arms spread out wide, his legs locked together to the base of his feet - their identification of him was appropriately reassessed.

"That ain't Batman," the square eyed girl scream with a finger pointed upon him.

"That's batboy," her sister stepped in, an insinuating finger following suit.

"Batboy?" Nightwing scoffed as he retracted his wings, "do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"

"Could it feel any worse than the pummelling of my fists?" Now, the leader of this Jokerz grouping was certainly taller than much more robust in stature than Nightwing, but to say this fight was to be in his favour would be to make a grave misjudgement. When the first punch flew the hero's way, he nimbly dodged his head around by moving to its outside before springing into a leap that took his soon to be crunched up, shin grabbing body to his foe's head level. He swiftly moved his outside hand across his body towards the thug's shoulder, planting it there and utilizing it as a pivoting point to bring the full of his body around to the thug's backside, knocking into one another back-to-back. In the process of doing so, he fired off the tethered escrima stick from the compartment around the forearm backwards extension of his shoulder planted hand, the speed at which he moved allowing for his other hand to grab hold of the stick just as it past the deranged clown's broad shoulder span. As a result, the Jokerz leader found his neck to be trapped behind a near unbreakable cord. Landing both feet solidly to the ground, Nightwing simply flipped the brute over his own back to the ground, forcing him onto his stomach. At the conclusion of this unfathomably short scuffle, he rammed his knee into his downed foe's spine as he tossed the stick over to his other hand, thereby fulfilling the loop around the gang member's neck.

The startled Jokerz were all but ready to move in when Nightwing clenched tighter on the cord, furthering the struggle of their leader to a clean rush of air, "Stand down," the hero commanded, "or I'll snap him!"

"The Bat don't kill," the leader mustered strength to claim in his already breaking voice, "kick his head in!"

"I'm not Batman," Nightwing remained stern.

"Bunch of wimps need a Batty to protect them," the slick green haired Jokerz member giggled as he pulled out a switch blade from one of the multitude of pockets on his jacket and hastily approached his pinned leader.

"Are you guys hungry?" Nightwing questioned, the understanding of which seemingly reaching the oncoming gang member whom stumbled into a stop, his eyes wide with strange affection for the black clad figure. He promptly let his grip loosen as he slowly rose back to full standing, allowing more cord to flow as was needed. "Anyone?" he looked across the line of Jokerz, "yeah, you," he signalled out the knife wielding joker whose smile had conspicuously disappeared, "is that why you're here now? Because you're hungry? That's why they're here," he waved a hand out over the line of Ts.

"And you're protecting them? The Ts?" the Jokerz leader continued his distaste from the ground though, in feeling the grip lessen around his throat, attempted to get his chest up from the hard ground so that he could speak more properly, "after what they've done? They should be out here and suffering…they're here, in our place, taking our food."

"You're food?" Nightwing stomped his foot down on the leader's back at the exact moment he decided to rise up on the strength of his hands, "how many people did you terrorize today? How many stores did you vandalize so that you could get what you thought rightfully belonged to you?" his hand abruptly let go of the stick, a quick flex and like a bullet, it recoiled back into its forearm encompassing compartment, "owned by you?" he rhetorically questioned, "you're no different from them. Just another war over something that could have been easily shared." He looked over the line of Jokerz once more, "there's plenty of supply inside, it's all mine, but I'll give it to you," he looked over his shoulder, "to the both of you. For once, drop what you're always trying to do to one another and just think, at least do so with your stomachs before you start fighting."

"I hate the Ts," the green haired boy exclaimed under a cold breath.

"Well then you don't have to have anything," Nightwing snapped back, "stay out here and starve. No one gets in there unless their willing to put aside the competition, give it a rest. I don't care, do whatever you have to do to make it work without resorting to stupidity or I'll be back around to cut off the tap and play the drums on your heads."

"You're not staying?" Fitz rushed over to Nightwing, clutching his shoulder with a concerned hand and pulled him inwards of himself to greet him face to face.

"I really don't have time to argue all the semantics," Nightwing sniffed as he caught eye with the open eyed, fuzzy faced Ozyron whom had stepped his way out of the basement dwelling and arched his head in intrigue of the battle lines drawn between gangs and the boy who stood between them, "I've got something else I've promised myself to before this day's over…."

* * *

"There's another safe house that possesses a psychic dampening shield. If I drive at top speed and increase the Blue Bird's rate of flow between energy capacitors, we could be there in under a hour, fifty minutes maybe, barring that the ship doesn't explode from gross energy overflow," Nightwing spearheaded his hands through the opening of the piloting handles from which point he clutched them down hard into his palms, the connecting cylinder piece of the handle becoming firmly entrenched in the first joint of his attaching fingers. His voice had become fierce, the results of which being sharp changes tempo and fits of displaced anger. The Blue Bird swiftly rose from the ground under his given command, taking to the skies like a scorching bullet, the air in its wake left blurred in an exorbitant amount of heat.

'Before we are to reach the location you have set, I feel it necessary to state that what I have just witnessed of you…it was truly admirable,' Ozyron applauded. The furry white haired alien had once again taken his seat in the passenger position of the Blue Bird, acting as he always was: humble.

"Really?" Nightwing popped up a brow, evidently stunned by the compliment given.

'Most definitely,' Ozyron nodded in approval, 'you have calmed the storm between two warring people. Your time was short among them and thus you choose to appeal to the base of their nature, from which you utilized as a way to teach an enlightening moral. What prospects for the future they must all now face. What you have done, it was so right and …' he paused, dumfounded for a word but inevitably came to something encompassing, 'heroic.'

"Basest of natures?" Nightwing hummed, "isn't that some old proverb, like food first, morals later? I don't think I've taught them anything at all, nothing that will stick anyway. I just reminded them of their hunger, how much control it has over us."

'Food, then morals…' Ozyron pawed his face with a furry palm, mindfully contemplating the combination of words, 'I must wonder…what morals have you been taught by Donna Troy when she, as you say, abandoned you? So young, did you not go hungry?'

"Yeah," Nightwing responded under his breath.

'With but one stomach to your body, I must further wonder how long it was you went before you realized she was not intending to return to you, when you're hunger was fully realized?'

"Three days," Nightwing bowed his head for a moment, "and I didn't realize it…someone had to remind me. I've never forgotten that, no," he paused for but a few flittering seconds, "I was so hungry…never again," he nodded profusely, "I was going to make sure of that."

'Perhaps, these Ts and these Jokerz will be reminded of your brief appearance among them every time they feel the pains of hunger.'

Nightwing shook his head, "you don't know them like I do, haven't experienced them like I have. They'll be at each other's throats now that I've gone."

'You should not sell yourself so short, son of Troy'

"Son of…?" Nightwing giggled uncomfortably, "is that what you're going to be calling me now?"

'Even the gods hunger and fight amongst one another for whatever they can gasp,' Ozyron kindly related, ignoring the slight interruption.

"Yeah, well, they're the ones judging themselves, so, they should do fine when the dusts settles. They're immortal, they'll just move on to the next thing and fight over that," Nightwing sniffed as he clenched his teeth down, "here though, this mortal plain as the gods are sure to call it, well, we're very much like them as far as the endless fighting goes but you, well, we…we'll actually die. So, I guess, why bother trying to be an arbiter for peace? I have a life, right? One that's only going to exist for so long. I'm tired of wasting it on a goal that's impossible to fulfil without destroying everything and maybe that's not such a bad idea right now."

'I fear that my understanding of what you have said is flawed by my feelings. Could you explain more fully?' Ozyron questioned.

"Well, since I've already explained twice today, why not really nail down today's theme once and for all so that everyone gets it," Nightwing turned to sarcastic drawl before becoming harsh in his detailing, "I'm quitting Ozyron. I'm not doing this anymore. You're my last mission. Once I've found a way to save you, and I will, then Nightwing is finished. And don't go telling me that some kind of event will come along to change my mind because there's something stopping it, namely me…This is why I have to see Donna. She has the answers I need to learn about myself, to define myself outside of this world you just saw. She knows who I am, where I come from, what this place is, what I'm doing here, and I'll find her and force her to answer if I have to; I just have too," he gulped, "somehow."

'This is most troubling then. I must apologize then for the burden you must carry,' Ozyron stated rather erratically, different but still all the same.

"Apologize for carrying?" Nightwing squinted in befuddlement, "what do you mean? Like, saving you?"

'I really do appreciate your decision to do all that you can to salvage my existence,' Ozyron bowed his head.

Nightwing let out a relieving breath, "don't mention it. It's nice to know that my last mission will actually mean something to someone," he smirked. "In the meantime, could you tell me about the Yorg? I need some more facts before we get embroiled in it; you know what I'm saying? Ozyron?"

A period of silence ensued for just under half a minute, at the end of which, Ozyron closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, holding in the massive inflow of air for several seconds before responding, 'the Yorg…' his eyes opened as the deep breath was release, the smile soon returning to his face, 'it is upon us.'

"What?" No sooner had Nightwing exclaimed his surprise over Ozyron's words, he was exclaiming surprise for another reason completely: a pristine sheet of black had appeared overhead; moving, growing, spreading out its shroud of darkness on a collision course with the Blue Bird. It had no detail, no mixture of any individual particles or obscure shapes that would form a body; it simply was what it was: a shadow. He couldn't keep his eyes off it. His jaw dropped without any command given it. "That's alright. Alright," he nodded his head stiffly, "what if we were able to duplicate the same energy shock that you're craft emitted to stun it…I could fry the Blue Bird, heck, it's probably got better safety procedures than you're ship, we can actually eject before crashing," returning to proper order in light of a plausible idea, he sniffed once and refocused on the navigation screen, "we'd have to jettison at the right moment though otherwise we'll become some powerful electrical conductors if we survive." He pulled up hard on the piloting handles, the wing tips of the Blue Bird promptly taking their aim lower on a fast, yet solid, descent. "I mean what was the charge power of your ship? How much do I need to stun it?"

'On Earth? Approximately ninety-four exajoules,' Ozyron responded.

"Ninety-four, ninety-four," the young hero mumbled in a panic, "what's that? Ten, twelve nuclear power plants running at full strength?" He shuddered. Turning from screen to screen on his dashboard, he was made distraught when it was determined he would be unable to find anything worthwhile from within and outside his ship to support his plan, and as such, panting and stress tremors that shook all about and through his limbs overwhelmed him, "I can find that, they've got a plant in Jerhold. It's an hour and half from here. Maybe we can cause a meltdown or something. Heck, you know what? I bet they have better safety procedures than my ship when it spontaneously explodes from gross over consumption of power."

'My time draws near," Ozyron took in another deep breath.

"Please," Nightwing gulped, "just shut up."

The speed at which the Blue Bird moved was simply not enough. The minutes which Nightwing thought he had gained by lowering altitude shrivelled into seconds with the clean sheet of black that followed them seemingly teleporting directly above after just one miniscule blink of his eyes. The dark creature's large folds stretched outwards of the sky and subsequently blotted out all that was once so clearly seen through the thick blue tint of the cumbersome windshield. Throughout this confinement, the engulfment of the smallish Blue Bird vehicle, there were no outlandish shakes, nothing that rocked the craft off its directive course or really anything that would signify the presence of the Yorg save for its visual; what it had done was impeccably smooth, and as such, that much more frightening to the vehicle's pilot.

"I'm going to cycle up the charge into the energy plate covering the windshield," Nightwing hastily pulled his hands out from the piloting handles and set to work on the various touch screens enfranchised in the dashboard, throwing down bars with a slide and pressing brightly lit keys. "Hopefully, ejecting it will give us some sort of gap to escape through, if not," he coughed, "we'll probably burn within the ship…thankfully, we'll be dead before it probably explodes. Heh, that's a relieving thought, isn't it?" he suddenly, and quite violently, shook his head with the stress tremors and fear leaving him at an instance, "no!" he shouted as he suddenly became stern, "we're going to make it. No one dies today." His hands dropped from their position on the screens, their work seemingly done, "are you ready," he turned chin to shoulder, catching eye with that pleasant smiling, white haired face of Ozyron, "hold on," he reached a hand out and with one last bow of his head, Ozyron grabbed hold of the extended limb with both of his snowman like hands. "Emergency windshield discharge!" he cried and almost to the word, the thick blue glass plate broke off like it had been chewed and churned in a powerful tornado, on the plus side, however, in its wake, a short distance, jagged cut tunnel was formed through the impossibly dense darkness, all the way up to the uniform grey clouds that covered the world in its warmth. This interior of the pure black beast was so impossibly silent, adding just that bit more to its frightening image, "come on," he beckoned his comrade to follow suit with him as he rose to his feet, placing his strongest foot forward on the craft's outer railing from which point he planned to jump. He was startled however when he was unable to pull his body all the way up to strength, the tether of Ozyron keeping his back from straightening. "What's wrong? We're running out of time," he turned back.

Ozyron gently pulled the young hero down towards him with his smile becoming ever so weak, 'I'm so sorry, Troy.' And with that seeming finality, his face turned to a scowl and he immediately let go of the boy's arm only to return with fists, the right of which clipped Nightwing in the chin sending him sailing into the pathway the ejection of the Blue Bird's windshield had formed.

All he wanted to do was scream as he fell away from reaching out to Ozyron, but within the stomach of the Yorg, where silence eclipsed all, his vocal cords were unnaturally stiffened. Venturing into the tunnel legs first, the last thing he saw before the darkness took over was Ozyron's smiling face, the timid, docile creature returning to the comfort of his seat completely relaxed. Clearing the darkness, his blue wings pulled out from beneath his arms, immediately getting caught up in the cold air of the low rise sky, leaving him afloat just above several dark tar roof tops of the surrounding townhouse buildings. From up here, the sudden rush of air was unbearable, the sound it made biting his ears with such ferocity that his other senses were left dazed all except, it would seem, his vision which was transfixed upon the enveloping of the Blue Bird by the full darkness that was the Yorg. Despite the focus he kept, the pressure of his descent caused him to blink quite sporadically, taking away large gaps of the transition of the fused Yorg and Blue Bird as it descended to the ground, the most significant of which being its degradation, large chunks of its pristine self-turning into gunk and other blobs of dark slime that dissipated into air before they reached him. It wasn't long before the Yorg was gone, its death ringing off without so much as a shriek. All that remained was the tired husk of the Blue Bird, its named colour having dimmed into a deep, distasteful grey but all else left in generally good condition. Unfortunate as it came to be, there were less than three stories before the ship would connect with the ground, its aim in doing so taking a slight swivel to the side so that one of its wing was the first to smash against the clean asphalt of an in-way walking path, a wide alleyway, that divided two adjacent townhouses with the all too familiar cold coloured, brick lined features.

The crash and subsequent wreckage were similar in their destruction to the ill fortunes of Ozyron spacefaring craft albeit with greater damage to the vehicle itself and certainly a lot less steam and smoke permeating the alleyway as a result, indeed, barely any to mention of as emanating from the Blue Bird itself. Following the sound of crunching metal, snapping support wires, crumbling cement blocks, and various other disturbing violations of the ear, the core of the craft, its oval shaped cockpit, came to rest against a solid, back wall of yet a third townhouse building which ran horizontally across to the parallel two, just as had been seen before. Its wings had been snapped off, one of which having hit the resting wall first, the occurrence of which it broke off, and slipped underneath, resulting in the central piece of the vehicle leaning down on it at an angle. The other wing lay less than a foot away, a couple of the thick black wires having yet to be severed. As was to be expected, the scrapes suffered by the plastic brick overlay of the townhouse were superficial. Additionally, to great fortune, not a single civilian was present at the incident of the crash.

"Come on Ozyron, why would you do this to me?" Nightwing swung in softly towards the broken craft, eager to get to the ground but forced to glide in slowly at the behest of the dwindling current of air caught in his wings, "Why?" his voice was still stiff making each word a battle, nonetheless, he continued to mutter to himself. "Don't you know what I'm going through? Ozyron…." At the moment he landed, the wings retracted into their thin compartments beneath his arms and he was scurrying off to get to the exposed cockpit where the lifeless Ozyron sat in the back, passenger seat, his wide, snow white hair ridden face leaned back on an arch towards one shoulder. He stepped up onto the collapsed wing whose inner side had fallen upon the flat of the ground and leaped up to the cockpit in a single bound. "Well, don't you?" the crash had somehow managed to jostle free the interior softener ring of the cockpit that usually kept the windshield in position and sealed, its break immediately being attributed to the emergency ejection of the windshield. It was thick and somewhat heavy but not terribly strong; the young hero ripped it away like it was paper. "Ozyron?" he was soon engrossed in deep, shuddering breaths as he came to see what he thought to be the lost form of a friend he had made just over an hour ago. He was filled with anger, but not the kind that succeeded into rage, "Ozyron?" he slipped his hands beneath the docile creature's head, cradling it into the inner side of his elbow joint.

Ozyron's eyes began to open slowly before closing once again, but in time, they finally found the strength to open and stay so. 'I am so terribly sorry, Troy…" his telepathic prompts were less hammer like than they were before, weakly touching, but at the very least, still understandable. He raised his chin to catch eye with Nightwing once he came to respect the strength of the boy's arm beneath him.

"No, no, no, don't be," Nightwing shook his head, dropping down to a knee so that he could get an even better hold. When Ozyron's eyes shut again, the vice that was his elbow joint strengthened, "come on Ozyron, stay with me," he gulped, shaking his head a little till consciousness was notified with the reopening, "I can get some help…I'll contact proxy right now, she'll…she'll know someone who can help you," he stammered through, "just stay with me, please."

'My time,' Ozyron took in a deep breath, 'it is almost over. I can feel my essence leaving me now….'

"No, no," Nightwing reasserted his negative opinion on the matter, "you'll be fine, fight it and hold on to yourself. Come on, believe….come on," he shook the dying alien's head a little more ferociously, "no one dies on me, not again, not like this. This was going to be it, my last mission. It was going to mean something. OK?"

'The Yorg is no more, my essence must be let go….' It became evident that Ozyron was trying to muster up his usual smile, but the pain he so felt prevented his mouth from moving effectively thereby resulting in the strangest of scribbles scrawled along the lower half of his face, 'but there is a message I am still honour bound to give….'

"Forget the message!" Nightwing shouted. "Alright, I've got help coming…just hold on." He suddenly became quite eager in his concern, "is there anything that I can do for you? Just anything?" though only a short period of uncomfortable silence had passed, for him, it felt like eons; no answer would have satisfied him. Finally, he snapped, "tell me!"

'I shall, but there is so much you do not know, so young and uneducated in the matters of gods as Donna is,' Ozyron, showing tremendous signs of a weakening state, shifted himself back and upwards against the back rest of his seat so that his head may rest upon the neck rest, regardless, Nightwing's tight fitting arm remained as did the focus of his eyes upon him, 'though it is blasphemous of me to declare them wrong, the elders of my people…they thought it to be Donna Troy whom was feared, for it was the name given. Troy of Earth, a Titan of Myth…."

"Titan of Myth? I've heard someone say that line to me before [NW#9]," Nightwing revealed in haste as his curiosity piqued despite the situation that lay before him, "what does it mean?"

'You must know, perhaps from her you should learn, but from me, my time is short and a message still has to be given. It is him, the god who slayed his father, he is coming for this world first….'

"Ozyron," Nightwing shook his head, "what are you muttering about?"

Ozyron turned away from Nightwing with a slow, awkward lash of his neck so that he could look up to the heavens with wide open wonder, 'he ruled with his brothers and sisters, the Titans. But when his own children, whom had been ceded rule of your planet, rose against them, they lost and were imprisoned in stone, save for him. He was sentenced to wander forever in the desert of lost souls.' Ozyron suddenly planted the flat of his hand to Nightwing's chest as he returned the sight of his large, small dotted eyes, 'his siblings have escaped their prisons from time to time and Donna Troy and her allies have been there to meet them in battle, defeating them on all occasions. But she has never faced him it had never been recorded by the elders till now. He has grown tired of his wandering and he has returned to reclaim his domain. This I have come to warn."

"Who is he?" Nightwing grunted, understandably puzzled by the large dump of information.

'I have seen much of you in this brief time. You have tempered the hunger of a divided people just as the elders foretold Troy to do for the subjects of a divided pantheon.' He knelt his head in shame, 'This decision of mine is brash and runs against all which I hold dear, but at this moment it feels…right. They are never wrong, but on this matter of such importance, I do believe now that that the message the elders conjured was not for Donna,' Ozyron's eyes widened as he stared into the very core of Nightwing, 'but rather for you, the son of Troy.'

"What?" Nightwing fell back.

'You must promise me, son of Troy, that when the time is right, you will say it…' too much surprise, the mortally wounded alien showed great strength when his grip around his chest tightened, each puffy appendage working their way into the outer fabric layer.

"Say what?"

With a full fingered grasp of Nightwing's costume and with every ounce of strength available, Ozyron pulled the young hero down towards himself. There was no reluctance on the part of Nightwing, no counter argument against the sharp movement forced upon him. When the strength of the pull had come to pass, Nightwing's ear was above the alien's mouth who now spoke for the first time in a gruff whisper, a voice so filled with sorrow but as such, incredibly meaningful, "No." And with that single word spoken, his hand dropped from the hero's chest and his eyes closed for the last time. Soon, all that could be heard was the crinkling pops of hot metal as it cooled down. In that moment, Nightwing realized Ozyron to be no more.

"Todd?" a familiar voice crying his name throttled his unconscious mind free of the haunting image that lay before him. It was Cassie, the base of her usual sweetness buried somewhere at the lasting sound of his name for it was covered with something quite unbearable opposite: dread. "Nightwing?" the depressing tone the voice contained became ever more so strained and noticeable as it became apparent that she was hovering slightly above him, her long, curvaceous shadow delicately falling upon the snow white fur of Ozyron, turning him brown like the slush usually found at the side of road following rain on an otherwise complete winter day. "What happened here?" she questioned. She was evidently aware of what had been lost here but that, as it was soon to be revealed, was not the reason for which she sounded the way she did. In a bout of curiosity, he turned about face, letting his legs fully stretch down the side of his crumpled craft before looking up to his designated caretaker, the first thing he noticed being the redness that engrossed her eye sockets and the pockets of warm moisture that ran along the smooth lower curves of her beautiful, crystal blue eyes that glistened in spite of the dark, cloudy sky. In contrast however, her clean blond, often curled and closely cut hair was a mess, unkempt so to speak, and in absence of its usual bright splendor. She had to have been crying for some time and had clearly not taken much care in how she looked. "Todd?" she gulped. Her voice was rather brittle and emotionless, "I've been looking for you everywhere…your friend," she shied away from him for a second, "Wayne…he said you had turned off your vehicles communication, but they were still able to track you."

In addition to the features of sadness represented in Cassie's face at this moment, another peculiar aspect was the clothes she wore, that being her ruby red costume she was known to wear when flying about as she was doing now. It was a full body suit, sleeveless with thin, shoulder straddling straps. Around her waist was a silver belt, one that appeared seamless and perhaps even solid. Her boots were shin high and a black shade that faired admirably close to a deep brown. The most crucial part of her costume was perhaps her emblem; like that of Wonder Woman herself, a gold coloured falcon with the stylized multiple 'Ws' was fitted to her chest. She simply hovered there, two feet above the Blue Bird's highest point, looking down upon Nightwing whom simply returned to her a blank stare, a gesture she took to mean that he was driven speechless, and given what she was seeing below her, it was not difficult to deduce why.

"It's Donna," she began once more with a concluding gulp stronger than the lost. She continued to fight her fear of breaking down in front of him for she knew this information must be passed at once, that despite the obvious emotional pain he carried at the moment over this docile white haired creature, he just had to know, "she's dying."


End file.
